Seulgi's signature orange lip balm is hard to miss.

 

Irene doesn't need a sensitive nose to recognize that distinct scent; Seulgi was notorious for breaking personal space, after all. Irene would find herself during their coffee-talks in the taller girl's suffocating embrace – Seulgi's peculiar way of showing friendly affection whenever they find something in common.

 

Irene has learned that Seulgi likes to swallow people in her hugs when she was happy; she has an inkling feeling working as a mascot has plenty to do with it. Seulgi didn't look the type to be overtly affectionate.

 

“You don't wear much lipstick do you, unnie?”

 

Seulgi had asked her one Friday afternoon; a week since Seungwan had slept over at the taller girl's house.

 

Irene remembers having shrugged at her question, twirling a spoon in her cup of hot coffee. She didn't really feel the need to drink it lately; it didn't feel like she was looking for Yerim in it anymore. The thought was terrifying.

 

“No, I prefer lip balm.”

 

She watched Seulgi perk up, her hands already digging into her bag that Irene found herself curious enough to ditch the coffee – at least, for now.

 

“Same!” Seulgi had looked excited at finding another common ground with her, the first having been their shared love for dancing (to which they had both admitted to having dropped at the end of high school). “I love this orange one the best. It lasts the whole day so my lips stay moisturized and it even tastes great too.”

 

Irene had taken the tube to get a whiff of its scent: its familiar, sharp, fruity, smell the same as the one on Seulgi's lips whenever the girl hugged her too tight that she'd feel her back cracking most times.

 

“It does smell nice,”

 

Irene had visited too many stores to try on shades of lipstick that when Yerim decided to play with lip gloss instead, she never complained; the scent was often pleasant to her nose.

 

She thought that she had tried on every lip balm out there considering Yerim's fascination with painting every possible product on her. She had never smelled an orange as pungent as Seulgi's.

 

“Here, I'll put it on for you, unnie.”

 

Irene had let her, leaning over so she'd be easier for the taller girl to reach. Irene had busied herself from the silence, rubbing her thumb across the cold surface of her coffee cup as she waited for Seulgi to finish applying orange along her lips.

 

“Do you...ever miss your ex, unnie?”

 

Irene's eyes had snapped up to discern the frown on Seulgi's face. The taller girl hadn't looked at her, her focus steadied on for a canvas.

 

She hadn't known what to say, especially since Seulgi still had her lips under her care, so she only hummed.

 

“I can't tell what that means, unnie.” Seulgi had giggled, before shifting back, as if to admire her work. “How is it, unnie? Do you like it?”

 

Irene pursed her lips, tasting specks of orange, distinctly as strong to taste as it was to smell. It felt like Seulgi even – mutely present, yet loudly noticeable.

 

“It's fruity. Orange fits you more.”

 

“What's yours?”

 

“Vanilla.”

 

Seulgi had nodded, humming cheerily as she stuffed the tube back in her bag.

 

“Yeah, that's how I imagine you'd taste, unnie.”

 

Irene had choked on air at Seulgi's poor excuse of a wink, covering to muffle her surprise as Seulgi chortled, slapping her own stomach.

 

“You're as bad as Sooyoung.”

 

“Joy? What's her flavor?”

 

Irene had taken a second to recall the deep red Joy would normally wear. It was certainly a different shade from Yerim's signature color.

 

“She prefers bright red lipstick. She said it makes a point to show she's not someone you'd ignore.”

 

Seulgi had nodded along like she understood completely, a wistful smile having tugged her lips.

 

“She's hard to miss.”

 

Irene was tempted to pursue that line of topic, especially with how Seulgi had agreed so readily. She didn't think Seulgi would notice Sooyoung as well as she did – not when the giant made it explicitly clear that Seulgi would never be interested in her.

 

“How do you do it, unnie?”

 

Irene remembers having glanced up to see curiosity paint a broken smile on Seulgi's face.

 

“Do what?”

 

“Work, go to school – do everyday things knowing the one you used to love is as close as a five-minute walk?”

 

Irene hums, staring at her cup of cold coffee.

 

“Keywords are 'used to'.”

 

“So what if you still do?”

 

“Then I'd take that five-minute walk and visit every day.”

 

“Do you?”

 

Irene knew Seulgi was referring to her ex. They had never explicitly talked about her, though Irene wasn't at all surprised considering she had let her feelings show back at the restaurant like an announcement on a radio.

 

“...No.”

 

One thing was clear throughout that silent gap that Seulgi's question left in its wake: it didn't sound like she loved Yerim enough to take that five-minute walk every day.

 

“Anyways, that wasn't what I called you here for.”

 

Irene kept mum under the girl's twinkling eyes that suddenly filled up with mischief, vaguely aware because it must be a mistake – how could she not love Yerim that much?

 

Seulgi had a grin so wide that Irene had briefly wondered (amidst the storm in her own head of red lipstick and coffee kisses) if she had just signed up for something regrettable.

 

“Wen's birthday is coming up soon and I was wondering if you knew what she'd like.”

 

It had triggered memories of conversations she's had with Seungwan, paving way through phantom nails of Yerim’s touches along her skin to whisk in Seungwan’s thoughtful expression instead; a light hue of pink pursed lips and crinkled fuzzy eyebrows.

 

Seungwan had been shy over discussing birthday presents (though understandably they were still getting to know each other at the time). Irene wasn’t surprised at all considering it was a topic about what a person would want and Seungwan was the type to think about others over herself.

 

“Are you sure you don’t need a hat, Joohyun? It’ll be chillier later today,”

 

Irene hadn’t been ready for Seungwan’s close proximity. They were getting better in terms of intruding one’s personal space, but Irene still needed time to get accustomed to the fact that Seungwan initiated everything that had to do with taking care of one’s well-being.

 

She wasn’t used to being fussed over so carefully.

 

“No, I’m sure.” Irene had been quick to dismiss the concern clearly etched over worried eyes, “I have a scarf anyway,” she had raised an end then, attempting to tickle Seungwan in an effort to stave off the wrinkles on her forehead. “And you still haven’t answered my question about birthday presents.”

 

When Seungwan didn’t budge, Irene figured she’d have to turn it over, gesturing to the shorter woman instead.

 

“What about you? You need to cover yourself up too, Seungwan.”

 

Seungwan had pouted then, dangling a beanie between her fingers, tugging at Irene’s hand to take it; she had completely ignored the words that left .

 

“Bring it with you just in case, okay?”

 

Needless to say, Irene couldn’t win over curved lips and vibrant eyes that colored worry with every batting eyelash.

 

“Why don't you come over? Have a sleepover with Seungwan?”

 

“…Wait, really? I can?”

 

Irene had hummed then, playing with the rim of her cup, dancing a finger along its porcelain skin.

 

“I don't see why not. Besides, it’ll be my birthday present for you too, since you never told me yours was on the same month.” Irene nudged Seulgi’s leg beneath the table, grinning at the taller girl’s tongue sticking out. “It'll be fun.”

 

Seulgi had laughed before taking another sip of her coffee.

 

On the nights where Seungwan and her had laid in bed together (which was every night that Seungwan wasn’t over at Seulgi’s), waiting for sleep to draw curtains over tired eyes, they would talk about whatever came to mind.

 

They had discussions about the weather, school, and work. Most were mundane things really, but on special nights when the room is just a tad colder and they can’t help but hold on just a little closer, Irene would learn specks of Seungwan that hid under a rigid shell.

 

Irene had stumbled on a pavement Seungwan hardly mentions during the day, having talked about holding sleepovers prior to moving in to their shared apartment; that most days, Seungwan didn’t want to feel alone and had invited Seulgi over for company.

 

She figured that Seungwan would want that for her birthday; besides, who wouldn’t want their best friend over?

 

Before she could brace herself, Irene choked from Seulgi's bear hug, wincing at the taller girl's squeaky squealing.

 

“Thanks Joohyun unnie!”

 

Irene had laughed under that signature warmth of coconut and orange, happy to have another friend worth cherishing.

 

-

 

Irene hadn't known what to get Seungwan for her birthday.

 

She had wanted to give Seungwan something special (sleepovers seemed more like Seulgi's thing).

 

But what?

 

Irene had considered asking for Sooyoung's advice, though she immediately refrained as soon as Sooyoung began sending smooching sounds over the phone.

 

Yerim was an option but the younger girl wasn't picking up her calls. When she had asked Sooyoung about it, the taller woman had said she was busy studying.

 

“I think you've been replaced by her textbooks, unnie.”

 

Irene hadn't minded; it was great that Yerim was studious – her future had always been bright.

 

Her idea of a perfect present came when she played with the clinking sound of her metal lighter.

 

Irene hadn't been looking for comfort in puffs of smoke. Her lungs hadn't inhaled a cigarette in a while, having stashed the box in a drawer in the kitchen, her lighter a keepsake that Seungwan now owned.

 

Irene remembers stumbling for words with Seungwan looking so lost at her, clearly confused as to why she had called her into her room that one evening on the shorter woman's birthday.

 

When she had finally found her tongue, Irene was proud it didn't reflect the nervous waves in her chest.

 

“When I get hurt, I smoke to forget.” Irene had tapped gently on the top of the metal casing, her lighter a comfortable presence in her hand. “But with you, I've forgotten what it's like to get hurt.”

 

Surprise was written so deeply in her roommate's face that Irene had momentarily wondered if it'd stick permanently on her skin.

 

She remembers passing Seungwan her lighter, not forgetting to help close the shorter girl's mouth with a finger beneath her chin.

 

“So happy birthday, Seungwan. Thanks for being my cigarette.”

 

Irene hadn't meant to be thinking about that moment (she hadn’t meant to be thinking so much about everything, really) they shared in her bedroom when her roommate was currently staring at her like she was looking for a kiss.

 

“Coffee again, Hyun? I bet you taste like it now too, what with your obsession every morning.”

 

Her bluntness startles her, but it doesn't stop Irene from speaking out on it.  

 

“I think I'm getting over it, but besides that, wouldn't you like to know?”

 

“I would, actually.”

 

Irene begins to see red lights blaring in her mind's eye, a cluster of signs that scream for her to stop everything; especially when Seungwan has eyes that appear to reflect what she wants, buried deep in her chest, waiting to come out.

 

Irene had been touchier with Seungwan in the past few weeks for two reasons: one, because she wanted to and two, because she could smell someone else on her skin and Irene couldn't fathom it to be true.

 

So she held Seungwan whenever she could: on the couch, in bed, in the kitchen – Irene hadn't felt ashamed for it; she was glad Seungwan hadn't been either. It had told her that Seungwan didn't mind being close to her and usually that would've calmed her anxious thoughts, but every time Seungwan was wrapped in her arms Irene knew she had already been held even closer by someone who wasn't her.

 

Irene made sure she wasn't just imagining it; again and again, attempting to take whiffs of familiar peach shampoo that they both shared (because Seungwan loved hers for how silky it made her hair) and only recognizing orange that had always been for Seulgi instead.

 

Irene had figured that it wasn't much to think about. Seulgi was a hugger and she was often a victim to her arms too.

 

But when she held Seungwan behind the kitchen counter, watching her chop vegetables and humming to a song she didn't recognize, Irene spotted litters of swollen circles splotched near the back of her neck, hidden right behind her shoulder (her shirt was drooping to the side; a sliver of skin that exposed so much).

 

Irene knew what a hickey looked like. After all, she had sketched plenty over Yerim's skin, colored in various shades of red, remembering how much Yerim had whined over them but never complained in bed.

 

Irene had known then that Seungwan was Seulgi's to touch and it finally gave herself reasons not to try and kiss her anymore.

 

She had wished it wasn't true.

 

Every time she held Seungwan close, Irene had wished that it was all a lie – that Seungwan didn't smell like Seulgi had meshed their skins together. It was hard though.

 

It was hard not to imagine them in bed together, shredding their clothes apart and etching “I love you” in every kiss they'd share, “I want you” in every scraping fingernail, and “I need you” in every sound that would leave their lips for the walls to hear.

 

Because how could she want someone this much if Seungwan was already with another?

 

“You can't do this to me,” Irene mumbles, attempting to get away from Seungwan as fast as she can. “You shouldn't be doing this to me...” Irene is already on her feet to run, anywhere, until Seungwan is gripping her arm, forcing her eyes back on savory pink lips. “Please don't do this to me, Seungwan...”

 

Irene couldn't remember a time she had begged this much. She hadn’t even begged for Yerim.

 

“Don't make me come up with reasons not to kiss you if you're just going to turn them all into a giant excuse.”

 

She had held back for so long; there was no way she would let Seungwan ruin it for her. Not a chance.

 

But then suddenly Seungwan tugs her back a little too hard and Irene can't help but be weak under her voice.

 

“Then stop making up reasons for your excuses and kiss me.”

 

And she does.

 

When Irene kisses her – finally, finally kisses her, she is looking for Seungwan underneath that fruity orange that reminds her of someone else.

 

Irene attempts to scrape the orange off, erase the smell of someone that shouldn't be so embedded into Seungwan's skin, the taste that shouldn't be written on Seungwan's lips.

 

When the orange wouldn't leave Seungwan's mouth, Irene moves lower, hopes that her body wouldn't have traces of Seulgi marred over them too.

 

“This is wrong. This is so wrong.”

 

Irene tries to convince herself not because she was thinking of Yerim (though she should be – she is her first love after all), but because Seulgi was everywhere in every shred of skin Irene could taste – could smell.

 

Coconut floats through her nose even when she buries her face into Seungwan's neck, faint peach that they both shared a fleeting cloud under Seulgi's distinct scent. Irene attempts to scratch it off, biting on flesh that makes Seungwan whimper – a sound that makes Irene's chest tremor, her stomach shaking of butterflies bouncing against its walls.

 

Seungwan gives her chaos in the way she'd moan against Irene's mouth, tangle her fingers in Irene's hair, yanking at Irene's heart with every call of her name spilling like sin from her lips—

 

“Hyun...”

 

Irene is relieved that Seulgi isn't in Seungwan's voice, too.

 

It makes Irene's bones shiver, how Seungwan’s tongue folds over her name, her fingers hungry for the heat on Seungwan's skin, crawling nails under her shirt so Seungwan would pull her closer – mewl under her touch.

 

Irene’s charting her like a new world, keeping track of lines that contour along Seungwan’s hips, to the soft surface of her belly. Her lips map the edges of Seungwan’s collarbones, to the arched skin of her neck.

 

Irene focuses on the sound of Seungwan's voice, calling for her, groaning against her – tugging at her heart to kiss her deeper. It masks the coconut and orange that still lingers across Seungwan’s skin, or at least, just enough for Irene to pretend that Seulgi hadn't already left love marks on her first.

 

Seungwan’s eyelashes dances along her cheek when Seungwan brings back their lips for a searing kiss, painfully slower than the rest, as if she wants to taste her heart through it too. Irene returns her fever want with her own, looking for Seungwan under deep orange – much like how she'd attempt to find Yerim in every coffee she’d drink.

 

But just like Yerim, Irene can't find Seungwan when Seulgi is all she could taste.

 

Irene can feel crushing disappointment cripple her lungs, much like the first time she realized Yerim wasn't coming back.

 

As much as she doesn't want to stop feeling for Seungwan's hot skin, delightfully burning under her palm, Seungwan's bra strap teasingly stuck between her eager fingers, Irene needs to breathe.

 

She forces her other hand to search for an anchor to her want, to help quiet the desire piling up in her chest at every panting breath Seungwan is pressing against her lips; she’s slowly kissing away what little logic Irene has left.

 

Her fingers tremble over the door lock.

 

Click. Click. Click.

 

“Three...”

 

She breathes out, attempts to clear her head even when Seungwan’s mouth is still fluttering against hers.

 

(“Hyun...”)

 

To think even her mind is beginning to play games in her head, reeling back pictures and sounds that she'd like to take and hear over and over again.

 

(“Hyun...”)

 

Irene needs to hear the lock again.

 

Click. Click. Click.

 

Six, Irene counts to herself, watching how Seungwan's eyes have cleared.

 

The short moment they share gives Irene time to both memorize the red flush on Seungwan's cheeks (how she’s breathing lungfuls of air), and remind herself of why she stopped in the first place.

 

Seulgi was tattooed into her skin; no tight hugs were capable of marring someone else's scent so deeply. There was no way she would play homewrecker to an established relationship – no matter how much Seungwan may try to deny it.

 

So Irene shifts back, just enough so Seungwan's lips don't bump against her own with every shaking breath and forces out an assumption that she wishes to not be true.

 

“Why do you taste like the same orange lip balm Seulgi always wears?”

 

The silence that follows is eating her up.

 

Irene watches Seungwan's lips quiver, sees how swallows nervous fear; Seungwan is suddenly anxious and it gets Irene to feel it too.

 

She repeats it again for the both of them.

 

“Why do you taste like the same orange lip balm Seulgi always wears?”

 

The repetition must’ve startled the gears in the shorter girl's limbs because now she's inching closer and Irene can't help but step back.

 

Irene doesn't miss how panic colors Seungwan's eyes, catching her roommate's gaze fluttering to her feet that keeps their distance the same.

 

Seungwan sounds frantic.

 

“I-I – It's nothing like that! She just— she leant it to me because she said my lips get chapped easily so...”

 

Irene would've believed her. Really, it wouldn't have been much of a surprise considering that Seulgi had gotten her to try it on too.

 

But that wouldn't explain the hickeys she'd find on Seungwan's skin.

 

Seungwan's grip is suddenly latching onto the end of her sleeve.

 

“Joohyun, really. It's nothing—”

 

“Am I not worth the truth?”

 

Irene's not sure how to feel.

 

Should she be angry? Sad? It wasn't like she didn't know. Deep down, Irene knew there was something between Seulgi and Seungwan (all that orange and coconut on Seungwan's skin were blaring red lights) – she just couldn’t believe it.

 

If anything, she wanted to blame them both for not telling her.

 

How could Seulgi call her over for coffee talks to talk about anything and everything without telling her this? How could Seungwan spend every single day with her (especially when Irene would hold her close) and never once bring it up?

 

Or did they know she was feeling something for Seungwan and were waiting for her to screw up?

 

No, they weren't the type to do that. They wouldn't do that. They would never.

 

“No – Joohyun, of course you are!”

 

Seungwan's grip only tightens against her sleeve, even bringing another hand to latch onto her forearm.

 

Irene wants her to let go already.

 

“Then why are you lying to me?”

 

Her voice doesn't tremble; she's glad. She might not be able to take her heart being so open as it was already.

 

Irene watches how Seungwan's eyes widen in fractions. She watches how desperation drapes over pools of brown, spotting Seungwan's mouth tremor for words.

 

“It's – it's not that simple,”

 

Sometimes, Irene thinks that Yerim would say the same thing if she ever asked her why she left, or at least, give her some other variation of it (it'd explain why she's so afraid of asking).

 

Irene prides herself in her stubborn patience though; that maybe if she waits long enough, they'd volunteer to share their perspective on things.

 

Then again, it's not like anyone is obligated to tell her things, much like how she doesn't have to say anything herself either.

 

Seungwan is biting her lip, wandering eyes flicking everywhere else but at her. She's well aware of how Seungwan's fingers still grip her sleeves, watching them shake under their chokehold.

 

Seungwan’s tremor limbs mirror the struggle her lips have with words, how it mouths syllables yet not a sound would come out. When she starts to resort to her ticking finger against her sleeve, Irene knows that the truth can wait.

 

A small smile breaks along Irene’s lips, cradling Seungwan's hands into her own, attempting to stop the trembling along Seungwan's skin.

 

“Joohyun...?”

 

She laughs a little at Seungwan's bewildered look, mouth agape with eyes so wide that Irene swears she could count the specks of surprise coloring them. 

 

If Seungwan doesn't want to tell her, then it's fine. She might not be able to handle the truth out loud, anyway. At least, not when she still wants to kiss Seungwan.

 

“When did you go from being my roommate to replacing the person behind every coffee I'd drink?”

 

“Joohyun...”

 

Irene still feels baffled even when she's already said it out loud. To think she tolerated a drink she hated so much to look for someone who would never be there, only to be swiped off already by someone else – it was terrifying.

 

But despite all the garbled mess tearing up inside her chest of words that want to be said, Irene can't arrange them enough to be coherent.

 

Not when she's feeling herself fall back in, leaning closer so their lips breathe air between them again.

 

She sees how Seungwan's eyes have fluttered to , half-lidded as if to close and Irene wants nothing more than to seal them up for another bruising kiss.

 

But orange still floats into her lungs and it's more than enough for Irene to remember Seungwan is already Seulgi's.

 

“…We still have shopping to do.”

 

She mutters instead, blinking her want away.

 

Irene's about to move until Seungwan is gripping her sweater, eyes back to their color of fear.

 

“Seulgi's not...”

 

Irene waits for Seungwan to finish it – have her gather even just a little bit of courage that had been with her for the past few days. When it doesn't come, Irene hopes to ease the frustration she sees in Seungwan's crinkled brows with another small laugh.

 

Just so she could prove to Seungwan that there was nothing to worry about, she settles for the skin just below Seungwan's lips, kissing gently.

 

“Come on, maybe they have that purple roommate sweater I've been wanting for so long.”

 

Irene watches Seungwan blink turmoil away, much like how Irene seals their conversation into a box to leave untouched for the remainder of the day in the way she fixes Seungwan's hair and clothes.

 

Seungwan joins in on their muted treaty, mumbling softly. But Irene can feel Seungwan's fingers tremble against her sleeve.

 

“…Okay,”

 

Irene wonders if it's alright to hold her hand when the meaning has changed.

 

She tries not to reach out for Seungwan's fingers, nodding to herself, muttering just as quietly.

 

“Okay.”

 

She ushers Seungwan out of the apartment, guiding her with extravagant wave gestures and a grin that Irene expects Seungwan to take for humor instead of an excuse to not hold her hand.

 

Irene doesn't miss how Seungwan's fingers tremble to tug her close, as if to bring back the lack of gap between their skin. She ignores the hesitant curl around her pinky finger.

 

Irene's relieved when they make it to her car, breaking the weak latch of Seungwan's skin tied around her finger with the convenient excuse of getting to the driver's seat.

 

Now if only she could just keep her hand from Seungwan's reach when she switches gears.

 

-

 

Click.

 

Joy mutters a curse under her breath, clicking her tongue at the image of a blurry blob at the center of an orange sundown.

 

The darn bird flew away.

 

Combing a hand through her hair, Joy supposes it's not that bad; it adds some mystery to the picture, though a smarter photographer might know that it was a silly mistake instead (some beauty came about from mistakes so it shouldn't be so bad).

 

She'll just find something else to take a picture of.

 

“Joy!”

 

The sound of her name makes her freeze near the railing, her ears quick to pick up a voice she doesn’t want to hear any time soon.

 

Wha— no. It can't be.

 

She doesn't dare turn around, not when her legs have stilled like her feet have melted on snowy pavement.

 

“Hey! Are you on your way home?”

 

Crap. It sounds like her. It can't be.

 

It's as if her limbs have gotten startled at how fast that voice was closing in on her, jolting her feet off the ground to whisk herself away from someone who very much should stay out of her life forever.

 

“Are you in a hurry? Hey!” Joy goes rigid at a grip on her elbow, clenching her teeth at the foreign warmth. “Joy, are you ignoring me?”

 

Joy can't help but breathe in a tank of air, immediately holding her breath once Seulgi enters her peripheral, finding herself twisting around at Seulgi's hold.

 

Stupid monolid-smiling-moon eyes and her stupid bear face with her stupid bun hair.

 

“Aren't you going to say hi?”

 

Joy wants to slap that annoying grin off her face, scoffing as she whips her arm back, wrenching it away so she can't feel Seulgi's touch any longer than necessary.

 

“Can you go pollute the air someplace else? It's getting harder to breathe now that you're here.”

 

She knows Seulgi's as dense as a rock so it doesn't surprise her when the shorter girl laughs like she had just told the funniest joke. It probably is though, now that she thinks about it. Joy wants to laugh with her.

 

“Am I that breathtaking, Joy? Come on, you can be honest with me.”

 

Joy hardly finds it easy to pretend butterflies aren't flapping their stupid wings in her stomach when Seulgi is wiggling a playful eyebrow at her, leaning in closer as if she isn't making Joy go red both inside and out.

 

“Don't flatter yourself. It doesn't suit you.” Joy tucks her camera back in her bag, sparing herself a few precious seconds to cool off her cheeks. “Just leave that to me.”

 

She means it as 'I'm better at self-flattery so don't even try' but Joy doesn't consider it a mistake until Seulgi is cooing at her, tapping a finger against her nose like they're suddenly best friends for life.

 

“Aww that's so sweet of you! I'll be looking forward to hearing them from you then.”

 

Joy's never felt her eyes widen this much – she feels like they'll pop right out of their sockets. Seulgi's misinterpretation has her heart stuttering at the bulls-eye implication and it's making her brain scramble for words to scratch that off clean.

 

“I-I – no! That's not what I—”

 

“Joy – stuttering? That's new, but cute.”

 

Joy swears that someone's been writing letters to Satan on how to torture her. How cruel. She wants to murder someone for how red her ears feel now too (surely her face was more than enough of a victim already).

 

She snorts, turning on her heel to stalk off because sticking around any longer would only bring her to her grave.

 

Joy hates hearing how Seulgi is trailing after her, the sounds of her footsteps eerily echoing after hers, crunching against the snow – a crashing reminder that Seulgi isn’t leaving her alone.

 

She’s about to look her way to tell her off when Seulgi taps her arm.

 

“Why didn't you say hi? When you took that picture...”

 

Joy doesn’t register that she had stopped moving until Seulgi abruptly pauses near her, standing rigid with flailing arms and wobbling on her toes to keep from ramming into her.

 

Joy pretends she doesn’t feel her hand motion to reach out and help Seulgi stay steady, keeping it shoved deep into the wedge of her jacket pocket.

 

It takes a few seconds to realize that Seulgi’s referring to the candid photo of her by the restaurant’s window.

 

“Now why would I do that?”

 

When Seulgi finally catches herself, her arms lowering by her sides, Joy is slightly disappointed at the opportunity she had forced herself to ignore.

 

Seulgi is shuffling her feet, scratching her cheek that Joy has to look away because she shouldn't be this cute.

 

“Well, we might've been friends sooner, right?”

 

Hell no. That would've been worse.

 

“Not a chance,” Joy quips, her boots cracking snow again.

 

She hears Seulgi jog to keep up with her pace, inwardly groaning at her pestering.

 

“How would you know? We're friends now aren't we? Why would then be any different?”

 

“Because.” 

 

“Because...?”

 

Joy shrugs. She needs to find another distraction – anything.

 

Seulgi sighs beside her.

 

“Why are you being so difficult, Joy?”

 

She scoffs, rolling her eyes at the irony. Maybe she should take her phone out and pretend someone called her – or she should just call up someone. Anyone.

 

“Why are you bothering me?”

 

“I bother you?” Seulgi mumbles beside her, sounding delicate that it strikes a sensitive nerve in Joy’s chest.

 

Joy keeps mum, playing with the edges of her cellphone in her pocket and bouncing around a list of pros and cons of calling for help.

 

“Why does it feel like you'd rather be anywhere else but here, talking to me?”

 

She pauses briefly just so she could face Seulgi and be done with it.

 

“Because that's exactly how I feel.”

 

Joy doesn’t want anything to do with Seulgi anymore. She thought it was clear enough already with the picture she had given: an act of companionship to encourage Seulgi to be happy again. There was nothing more to be said and Joy was certainly not looking for some long-term commitment under the so-called label of ‘friends’.

 

Joy likes her small comfy triangle consisting of just Joohyun and Yeri. She doesn’t need more.

 

“Why? Aren't we friends?”

 

Joy searches for some sort of ulterior motive under Seulgi’s expression; a picture containing only a nervous smile and curious eyes.

 

“Why does this even matter to you? What do you want?”

 

“I want to know why you're acting like you hate me when you gave me that picture like you care.”

 

Joy snorts. She’s better off walking away.

 

Seulgi is persistent though.

 

“Why do you look like you want to run away from me?”

 

“Because I do.” Joy stops just so she could glare down at the shorter woman, make her message as clear as the ice on a sunny day. “Can I go now?”

 

Joy spins around to walk off, go anywhere else but here – far, far, away from Seulgi; her rib cage can't take the marathon in her heart.

 

But Seulgi grips at her wrist like a cage and forces her to look at her, to see the desperation lining pools of brown.

 

“I'm sorry if I did something wrong. Whatever it is, I'll fix it – just tell me, please?”

 

Joy wonders how Seulgi could do this to her – how a girl who didn't seem like she could hurt an ant was torturing her with shards between her ribs to stab at her feelings that have welled up in her lungs.

 

Joy hates how she's losing precious air because Seulgi's looking at her like she's someone she cares about.

 

“Just stop crying.” Joy curls her fingers beneath Seulgi's titan grip. “You're ugly when you cry.”

 

Seulgi blinks, confusion welling up in her eyes that Joy laughs it off, waving a hand.

 

“Or keep crying, it doesn't really matter to me. I don't care.”

 

Joy peels off Seulgi's weakening grip, feeling oxygen gradually return to her lungs as she steps back to twist around. She doesn't want to look at her – doesn't want to see her anymore.

 

Joy has already shown Seulgi everything she could do to help her with that simple picture of her by the window; what else was there to say? If she sticks around any longer, spend more time with her than absolutely necessary, Joy knows she'll be voluntarily putting herself into a deep dark pit and she is not dumb enough to do that.

 

She hears Seulgi scoff and when she thinks about it, it's the first time Joy has heard her voice without a plastic smile painted in it.

 

“Why can't you just say 'I don't like seeing you cry'?”

 

The gears must've shut off in her chest because Joy can't feel herself breathe, the thoughts in her head crackling out to nothing.

 

What did she just say?

 

Joy spins around once she's got her legs to finally cooperate, catching Seulgi grin at her before shooting off towards her. The taller girl barely manages to react, eyes widening every fraction before choking at the pressure of Seulgi's arm around her shoulders.

 

She's finding herself twisting around at the impact, stumbling on patches of snow as Seulgi cackles beside her, hugging her close.

 

“Let's go eat out. My treat, okay?”

 

She dodges Seulgi's smiling eyes that attempt to catch her gaze, not liking the warmth on her side mixing to fill in against her jacket and into her skin.

 

Joy's about to sputter her protest, scrambling to unlatch the grip around her until Seulgi is mumbling like she's whispering a secret only the two of them would understand.

 

“I'll try not to cry. I promise.”

 

Joy only rolls her eyes.

 

Happiness rarely comes. So when it does, Joy can't help but attempt to find fault in it.

 

-

 

Irene's lungs choke with want.

 

It's as if her chest had been wrapped around in chains of Seungwan's gaze, her lungs barely able to squeeze and pull in enough air that she's finding herself coping through instead.

 

(“Hyun...”)

 

It's back again, as if to haunt her; a constant reminder that won't leave her alone ever since she's tasted Seungwan.

 

She had been fine at the beginning (thankfully not when she was driving), but as soon as they stepped out of her car, with Seungwan attempting to touch her fingers again, her skin lit the images in her head like a trigger.

 

Irene’s hand quickly works the clasp around her neck, unlatching the button of her jacket so she could loosen her collar, yanking at the shirt to at least not coil around her skin so closely.

 

Irene can feel how dry is, swallowing desperately to moisten the walls as she strides through the revolving doors of the mall, keenly aware that her roommate could probably see her discomfort (it's hard not to; she's been fiddling with her collar for a while now).

 

She can hear Seungwan trail behind her, the clacking of her boots a signature tune amidst the clattering steps of strangers flitting by. As much as the open space of the building's interior is far from the tight spaces of the elevator just a few moments ago, Irene's still feeling like the walls are closing in on her.

 

(“Hyun...”)

 

It comes along with every motion Seungwan makes to link their hands together, tightening up again at the timid touch of her roommate's fingers.

 

“Oh, m-maybe this store has it?”

 

Irene stammers, hastening in pace, retracting her free hand to find solace in her coat pocket, far away from Seungwan's probing reach.

 

But the grazed heat along her skin is still warm, a burning reminder that it's the twenty-second time Irene has rejected her (she keeps count even when she doesn't want to; a masochistic timetable to etch guilt deeper with each increase in number).

 

(“Hyun...”)

 

Desperate for a distraction, anything really, to keep her mind off the fact that Seungwan's still trying to hold on to her, feeling warmth melt into her forearm, Irene staggers for the clothing section. Maybe seeing her favorite color will help ease the chaos (of wanting Seungwan – so much) in her head.

 

“Four weeks,” Irene pauses beside a pile of colorful sweaters, ears perking up at Seungwan's wavering voice. “…It's been four weeks since I started dating Seulgi.”

 

Irene almost laughs. She was right.

 

She watches Seungwan's face through the mirror on her left, not wanting to turn around in fear that she'd crumble; but those lips—

 

(“Hyun…”)

 

She wonders if she could handle hearing this.

 

Seungwan's heeled boots clack a step closer behind her, signaling Irene to take a step forward, pretending she's flitting through the sizes of a red sweater.

 

“Four weeks since I first started trying not to count thoughts of her away.” Irene barely registers the soft cotton under her fingers, “But it's been months since I first started kissing you – when you're asleep! Y-You wouldn't know, of course...” She buries the surprise beneath pursed lips, attentive to hear more. “...and sometimes, I would wonder when you'd wake up to one.”

 

She watches Seungwan fidget with the ends of her jacket sleeves, her shoulders clenched together near her neck, her expression hiding behind curtains of auburn.

 

“I-It would usually be a kiss on the cheek, sometimes forehead, and when you didn't wake up the first time, I...thought that it'd be okay – to kiss you for every morning I woke up with you still there next to me.” Irene pretends she doesn't feel her heart rattling in her chest. “You always looked so cute when you were asleep...I'm sorry I couldn't resist.”

 

She can't handle hearing this; is closing up again.

 

Irene wrenches her collar, feeling a button pop open – but it still feels so tight. 

 

“I understand if you find it creepy. I'd be creeped out too and that's why sometimes...sometimes, I wished you'd wake up to catch me so you could scold me for it.”

 

Irene grits her teeth at the claws Seungwan continues to scrape along ; it worsens when Seungwan's pressing against her back, feeling her roommate’s forehead rest between her shoulder blades.

 

“...So you could make me stop and I wouldn't have to spend each morning wondering if it was what a roommate would do and convincing myself that it was.”

 

Irene hates how she could see Seungwan so broken through the mirror.

 

Customers barely register their presence, being conveniently hidden at a corner of the store, the tall shelves of various sizes of jeans playing as a curtain to their intimacy.

 

Irene attempts to walk away, pretend that Seungwan isn't begging for her to stay, until hesitant arms wrap around her stomach, Seungwan's fingers torturously latching on.

 

How cruel.

 

“Seungwan—” Irene starts, gulping a lard of emotions that have nestled in .

 

“I thought you told me to get used to it,” Seungwan is curling fists against her, watching how her jacket is coiled between her fingers. “You told me to not let go – that you won't be complaining about it.” Irene inhales sharply at Seungwan's mouth drawing against her back, muffled words that still manages to be clear in her ears. “...A-Are you taking them back?”

 

(“Get used to it, and don't let go. It's not like I'll be complaining anyway.”)

 

It's amazing how they're re-enacting a moment in time where they barely knew each other. Now here they were, where Irene's confident enough to know what food Seungwan likes, to the way she'd snatch all the blankets in her sleep, leaving Irene to cuddle tighter for the heat Seungwan kept to herself.

 

“...Don't be like this to me, please...”

 

Seungwan's whimper has Irene tugging at her collar again, biting her lip at the fact that even when she's already heard that line once before, it still manages to reel her back in like a bird to a snare.

 

But even when she's trying to convince herself that she shouldn't be this soft anymore, it takes a quick glance at Seungwan's whitening fists at her stomach to stop the charade.

 

At least, for a little bit.

 

Irene pretends she doesn't hear Seungwan sniff like she's been crying, placing a hand over titan fingers. She hopes her voice doesn't come out as scratchy as the walls she feels in every swallow she takes.

 

“...I'll try.”

 

For now, as she uncurls Seungwan around her, swiping off tear tracks staining her roommate's face and pretending it's not fueling an inferno in her chest, Irene tries not to kiss her again.

 

-

 

Joy's been trying to relax for the past fifteen minutes since they've arrived.

 

She wasn't this twitchy during their group date, though perhaps it helped that there were two other members contributing to diminish any awkward silences that attempted to creep in.

 

Sure, Joy tends to bask in tensions that had people fidgeting in their seats, squirming for ways to undo the chokehold air that tightens their throats, but not when she was part of the equation. She'd rather be the audience to every single clumsy-stumbling mess than be a part of one.

 

She thought Seulgi would be the type to break these silences though. But here she was, twiddling with her fork and poking at her napkin.

 

Joy would rather suffocate under Seulgi's curious stares than be stuck in a claustrophobic box filled with overwhelming awkward.

 

“What do you do? Your job, I mean.”

 

Joy stops tapping on her leg with a fidgeting finger, looking up to see Seulgi boredly rub at the corner of her beige napkin.

 

How basic (it’s terrifying; she shouldn’t even be here). Joy supposes it was a start though – anything was better than having nothing to talk about.

 

“I'm a photographer.”

 

“So you have models?”

 

Joy grins at the opportunity, a teasing smile creeping along her lips at the thought of Seulgi fidgeting in her seat. She might as well make her stay worthwhile.

 

“You can be one, you know.”

 

Seulgi reacts as expected, with flailing hands and a shaking head.

 

“N-No it’s okay! I’m short anyway,”

 

“Taller than Joohyun unnie,” Joy snorts at Seulgi’s instant laughter. “You’re already doing better. Though unnie does have a prettier face...”

 

Seulgi slapping a napkin against her arm has Joy grinning up to her cheeks.

 

“You're so mean.”

 

Not as mean as you,

 

Joy keeps shut even when it can't help but smile at Seulgi's pouting.

 

When their food comes, the time they spend together is more pleasant than Joy expects. They share light chatter over typical things, learning more about each other than they ever did on their silly double date.

 

She learns how much Seulgi loves working as a mascot, and even if it's usually with rowdy kids, she's never felt happier.

 

Joy can feel herself relate; taking pictures have always been her favorite thing to do; she can't imagine ever leaving it for something else.

 

They really do talk like they're the best of friends; their chemistry startles Joy more than the time she found out Seulgi was in love with Joohyun's roommate.

 

It makes Joy want to run away.

 

“You know how you have certain friends who you can talk to about certain things, and another set of friends for those other set of things?”

 

Seulgi asks amidst the various escape routes that Joy is currently wracking up inside her brain. She can't stay much longer – she'll get attached and when she gets attached—

 

“Like how you talk to Joohyun unnie for a ‘set of things’ and me for a different set of things?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

—Joy won't be able to let go.

 

“Sounds exhausting.” Joy eyes the way Seulgi is spinning her spoon in her cup of coffee. “So what can you tell me that you can't tell Joohyun unnie?”

 

“Are you sure? Because I’ll probably end up talking too much.”

 

Joy scoffs, brushing her hair back over her shoulder, before leaning against the table, chin in hand.

 

“It’s not like you haven’t already.”

 

Maybe she was as much of a masochist as Yeri says she is.

 

Seulgi is taking a deep breath and Joy can’t help but follow along.

 

“Every morning I'd look for her, expecting that tomorrow she'd be there to wake up right next to me. Sometimes it happens though, at sleepovers, and I'd try not to fall asleep because I want it to last longer.” Seulgi is fidgeting with her napkin again, a nervous tick that Joy’s already grown accustomed to. “Sometimes I wonder if I should stay with someone who wakes up with me today only to wake up to someone else tomorrow.”

 

Joy hums, listening to the tears left unshed in Seulgi's voice; so full that Joy wonders how she hasn't drown in them yet. It was sort of amazing; she'd like to think that Seulgi had enough buckets to fill with tears for the both of them.

 

Joy replies in a voice she herself hardly recognizes. It's too soft. Too warm. Too caring. She hopes it doesn't show.

 

“Then can I be your tomorrow, just for today?”

 

One, two, three beats of silence.

 

“What?”

 

It takes a few beats more – four, five, six, before Joy finally realizes how her heart had just peeked out for Seulgi to hear.

 

Joy recovers from her momentary slip with ease of a practiced tongue.

 

“It was just something I've been meaning to say but will never tell to someone who looks just like you. Except you know, prettier.”

 

Seulgi's widened eyes curve into those signature crescent moons; it makes Joy want to tell her that she really meant it for her to hear, instead.

 

“Why can't you just say 'I did it to make you feel better'? For someone who’s so straight-forward, you talk in circles a lot.”

 

Joy chuckles at Seulgi’s precision, right dead-center into a bulls-eye of a description that colors her whole. She’s never heard anyone describe her more accurately than that.

 

“I’m charming, aren’t I?”

 

Seulgi only laughs and Joy watches with an expression she knows the shorter girl can’t read.

 

It was never about making Seulgi feel better; Joy had done it for herself (much like all the other things she’s done in life).

 

So when anyone else bothers to tell her to confess (usually Yeri), Joy can finally say that she did; and that it never worked out.

 

This way, they won’t ever have to end when they never get to start in the first place.

 

-

 

They come home together like nothing has changed.

 

The images of Seungwan have disappeared – it's a relief Irene treasures for every moment she has with her roommate, not needing a picture of a panting Seungwan when she's making simple conversation.

 

Irene shuffles through, groceries in hand, flicking her shoes to settle in a line near the door. She laughs at Seungwan bumping her elbow against her guitar, a loud twang echoing in her ears along with Seungwan's whining “Ow,” as she stumbles past to settle her own luggage of bags onto the countertop.

 

They sift through them together without qualms, easing into the motions of replacing food cans and stuffing ingredients into the refrigerator, small chatter covering up a growing wall – almost like it wasn’t there.

 

The evening passes just like any other night – it’s almost reassuring how normal they still are.

 

Irene manages to keep her composure; it’s not that hard as long as Seungwan keeps herself away from her. She’s been able to dodge every chance Seungwan takes to get close to her: shifting away when Seungwan attempts to take her hand, training her gaze elsewhere whenever Seungwan starts to talk to her – it’s maddening though, how alert she is for every one of Seungwan’s movements.

 

“Are you...”

 

Irene looks up from her document filled with gibberish words at Seungwan's timid voice – something that has become prevalent again compared to her farce confidence she had adopted before.

 

Seungwan is standing by the door to her room, already dressed in her PJ’s compiled of a sweater and sweatpants, her hands hiding under the cuffs that extend past her fingers.

 

She watches Seungwan swallow like there's a lard of words stuck in ; it's not supposed to be attractive but here Irene is, wishing that the simple action doesn't make her gulp too (it does, of course).

 

Irene can't hold their gaze any longer when Seungwan is shuffling closer, keenly aware of the oversized blue roommate sweater Seungwan currently wears.

 

She remembers all too well the time she's teased Seungwan for their 'couple-shirt'.

 

“You should be sleeping Wan. It's late already.”

 

She wants Seungwan to stop trekking towards her, just so that she won't see the open Word document for what it currently is: a convenient excuse.

 

Seungwan's voice is raspy with exhaustion, hesitation lining each syllable that Irene hates how it's already making her crumble.

 

“...Are you not coming to bed yet?”

 

The question is simple enough – it shouldn't be making her think of kissing Seungwan again, holding her close, touching her, listening to how she gasps out her name—

 

(“Hyun...”)

 

But it does and Irene can't help but clench her teeth under sealed lips, grit out a reply that she hopes doesn't show she's imagining their bodies pressed tightly together under blue sheets.

 

It's back – again.

 

“No.” Irene begins to type so she can't hear imaginary Seungwan in her head (the one in front of her is already more than enough). “I've still got a lab report to do.”

 

(“Hyun...”)

 

She tries not to shut her eyes when Seungwan's still watching her; Irene hates how it's a panting, sweaty, groaning, Seungwan she's seeing in her screen and not the paragraphs she's typing up.

 

Stupid imagination.

 

“...Then I'll just wait for you.”

 

Irene's eyes snap up to see Seungwan send her a small smile before stalking towards her guitar by the door.

 

This isn't how it's supposed to go.

 

Seungwan isn't supposed to be waiting for her; they each have their own rooms anyway (Irene's suddenly aware of just how 'normal' it was to be sleeping together – Seungwan's nonchalance about it makes her heart drum louder); they should be using both rooms when they've been paying for two to begin with.

 

Suddenly Irene’s desperate to dismiss her.

 

“N-No, don't bother. I'll be up all night anyway so just—”

 

(“Hyun...”)

 

Irene presses shaking fingers against her eyes, breathing deeply, ignoring how is so tight. She hopes Seungwan can't hear her swallow.

 

“— G-Go sleep.”

 

Irene is attempting to shoo her away, waving a hand to usher Seungwan out of the living room, hoping that distance will make the images – especially the sounds, disappear.

 

“Then come with me. It's late,”

 

But the girl isn't listening and Irene has to even squeeze a fist against her thigh, keeping a free hand to clench her eyes shut.

 

Irene's too busy focusing on her breathing – inhale, exhale – before realizing the warmth that curls behind her ears, soothing circles drawing along her temples.

 

She feels Seungwan's breath dance against her hand, forcing Irene to peek between hesitant fingers at the sudden lack of distance that keeps them apart.

 

“Hyun...” It's automatic when Irene feels herself relax at Seungwan's touch, “...Come on, you look tired.”

 

The words barely register in her head; it's taking all her willpower not to yank Seungwan by the back of her head to kiss her again.

 

Seungwan is beautiful.

 

Her smile is glowing even when it's tiny. Her fringe is charmingly in disarray, scrambled against her forehead and eyebrows, almost draping like gentle curtains over eyes that pulls every burning thought Irene had at that moment away.

 

Seungwan's massages above her ears help ease the nerves; Irene can feel it in the way her fingers no longer tremble, the fist on her thigh uncurling.

 

It almost makes her forget why she's so desperate to get away.

 

Almost.

 

Irene prays her voice won't crack under Seungwan's eyes.

 

“I can't keep waking up to you if you're supposed to be waking up to someone else instead.”

 

The syllables come out more hoarse than she'd like, a strained whisper that had clawed at for every word, but it's more than enough.

 

“W-What?”

 

Irene pretends she doesn't hear Seungwan's heart stuttering out, twisting away so she can't see how tears are welling up in Seungwan's eyes.

 

The act of sleeping together is innocent enough; Irene knows that. But it's different when she's no longer ignorant – Irene knows she wouldn't be getting any shut-eye if Seungwan's breathing next to her, arms wrapped around each other.

 

Irene doesn't trust herself enough to not touch her like that again.

 

She can feel Seungwan's fingers attempt to latch onto her sleeve when she stands, Seungwan's hand grazing weakly against the material. The timid touch has Irene second guessing herself, almost gets her to turn around, but when she spots the blue-dressed teddy bear on the sofa, Irene reminds her legs to walk away from her.

 

“Where are you going...?”

 

The anxiety in Seungwan’s voice returns; it reflects on how Irene's feet feel sluggish with each deliberate step she takes.

 

For now, she'll hide every mistake she's made and fix them later.

 

“You were right. The bear is really cuddly.”

 

Irene can feel her back burn under her gaze, but she can't tell if Seungwan's angry or happy about her peeking heart poking out of each syllable.

 

Irene plucks the bear off the couch, a smile curling against her lips at the softness of it. She appreciated its silent company – it was rather formidable against her love for laundry and fabric softener (though those will always be her number one).

 

“Joohyun?”

 

Irene strides back to her roommate, taking Seungwan's hands and having them wrap around the bear. Seungwan looking as lost as she felt at that moment would’ve made Irene laugh if it weren't for the fact that it was going to replace her.

 

“It's really soft to sleep with – even when I was on Sooyoung's couch. What more with an actual bed, right?”

 

She makes sure Seungwan’s fingers curl against its fur, ignoring the way their hands melt heat so quickly that Irene’s already feeling it crawling along her neck.

 

Seungwan sounds baffled, her whisper almost mute that Irene can’t help but lean just a little closer before catching herself.

 

“What are you trying to say…?”

 

She swallows so isn’t so dry with the plea along her roommate’s eyes.

 

“It'll keep you company. It's soft to hug and it'll keep you warm – just like you said,” Irene pats the bear’s head for good measure, a distraction from Seungwan’s trembling lips. “I promise.”

 

Irene doesn't have to see the panic in her roommate's limbs, how Seungwan shifts closer to her; she can hear it bleed off Seungwan's voice from how her tongue wraps around her name like it's trying to hold her and never let go.

 

“Joohyun – no, what are you saying?”

 

Irene looks away when Seungwan's grips her arm, how her fingers dig a little into her sweater, her warmth melding with her own.

 

It'd be so easy – to pin Seungwan again, trace a kiss along the skin where dips into collarbone.

 

She could do it.

 

“...Joohyun?”

 

Seungwan's desperately trying to climb over a growing wall that Irene is building again – one Irene hadn't ever imagined to break when Yerim had built it for her in the first place.

 

She bites her lip when Seungwan's closing in on her, ditching the teddy bear to wrap her arms around Irene's shoulders instead.

 

Seungwan is quaking against her, as if she were drenched with a winter’s cold.

 

“I'm saying,” Irene pats her back gently once, then twice. “Seulgi deserves better. So be better.”

 

Had it been anyone else Irene would never have given them the light of day; Seulgi is just as important as any of her closest friends. But Seungwan wasn't just 'anyone else' and Irene took pride in her own stubborn patience.

 

“I'll apologize to her when I have the chance,” Irene combs through her hair, an attempt at nonchalance (but all she wants to do is hold her close). “You should, too.”

 

Seungwan is taking a deep breath, squeezing harder, and it makes Irene breathe in so she'd ready herself too.

 

“I-I will. But, what would you be apologizing for?”

 

Irene feels her lips curl up at the corners, before listing her mistakes; one by one.

 

“For kissing you,” Irene pulls away, just enough so she could let herself breathe. “For touching you,” Irene curls a loose strand of auburn behind Seungwan's ear (she can’t resist her). “For wanting you,” her finger traces a line along the shorter girl's jaw, keenly aware of Seungwan's nervous swallow. “...And for thinking about how much I want to do it all over again.”

 

Irene bites at her lip, forcing her tongue to keep silent (she has already said too much), her eyes trailing the specks of curiosity in Seungwan's irises.

 

She takes Seungwan's stunned silence as an opportunity to finally get away.

 

Irene nudges Seungwan's forehead, poking gently, amused at the shorter girl attempting to blink confusion off her eyes.

 

“Goodnight, Wan.”

 

Once she's sure the bear is snuggled safely in Seungwan's arms, hoping it'll bring her roommate as much comfort as it did for her, Irene doesn't wait for Seungwan's goodnight.

 

Irene doesn't know when Yerim had given back her heart so that she could feel this way again for someone else. She doesn't want it – she doesn't know how to hold onto it again.

 

She wants to give it back to Yerim – to let her keep it. She was fine without it.

 

So until she finds Yerim, Irene makes sure Seungwan doesn’t take what’s left of it.

 

-

 

She's been mustering up the right words to say to Seulgi.

 

For the past few days, Irene has been dodging breakfast with Seungwan to spend her mornings at the café with a coffee she no longer needs to drink, wracking her brain for an apology.

 

Irene won't deny that she's been avoiding Seungwan; she's been trying to keep them exactly the way they should be: roommates.

 

She's aware Seungwan hasn't been sleeping well since, from the way she'd catch snippets of a groggy Seungwan, dark bags beneath her eyes, to the nights she'd hear Seungwan twisting the door lock open and close at 4 AM.

 

Irene's been tempted to help her out, offer to be at her bedside (because she knows Seungwan hates the cold), but whenever she's about to tell her that she'd be her support—

 

(“Hyun...”)

 

It would always come back.

 

So Irene makes breakfast for her before she leaves instead, knowing Seungwan's been waking up later and later (no doubt catching up on much needed rest).

 

Irene's used to functioning without sleep anyway.

 

She never forgets to leave a short note for her roommate; it'd be thoughtless of her to not greet her in the mornings, even if it's on paper.

 

Irene scribbles the words she's thought up for Seungwan today with a purple pen, leaving it beside a plate filled with eggs and bacon before slipping through the door, coat in hand. 

 

It’s time to meet Seulgi.

 

-

 

“Ah, Joohyun unnie!”

 

Irene passes Seulgi a wave as the door chimes her presence. She shuffles through an aisle filled with clothes, the all-too-familiar blue dress a tattoo in her head.

 

Before Irene could say anything, she's swallowed up in a hug softer than anything she's ever felt, a bundle of furry brown blocking her eyesight.

 

“H-Hi, Seulgi...”

 

Irene manages to choke out, not quite complaining for the lack of oxygen in her lungs – it's a sweet gesture, albeit a little deadly.

 

When Seulgi finally lets go, Irene is gasping for air, remembering how Seungwan had been like this too at Sooyoung's double date. She was quite the hugger.

 

Seulgi is slapping her back.

 

“So what's up unnie? I was surprised you called to meet up with me so early in the morning.”

 

Irene coughs, attempting to regain her composure as Seulgi twists around to rearrange a pile of boxes. She's amazed at the taller woman's dexterity despite her costume's large fluffy hands.

 

“It's...” Irene swallows a lard of nerves in . “...It's about Seungwan.”

 

“Wen-Wen?”

 

Irene hates how Seulgi's face is hidden under a bear mask. It's difficult to discern emotions out of a voice alone, especially when it's the eyes that tell the most. She's used to watching stiff expressions (Sooyoung is notorious for blank faces), but not one where there's nothing to see.

 

“What about Wendy?”

 

Irene will just have to rely on her ears; hopefully she's as good of a listener as Sooyoung's been saying.

 

“I kissed her.”

 

The room has gone mute.

 

Irene can hear the collective sounds of their breathing – as if they're both waiting for a pin to drop or a mistake to cut the fragile tether of their friendship.

 

Irene's searching through black beady eyes of a mascot's head, knowing that with each passing second there's a story being told on a face she can't see.

 

It's the quietest Seulgi's ever been.

 

And then furry-padded feet begin to take its first steps away.

 

“I'm here to say sorry,” Irene finds her voice, trailing quickly behind an unnerving silence. “I'm sorry for liking her and—”

 

“I'm not forgiving you when there's nothing to forgive.”

 

Irene pauses behind her when Seulgi bends down to rearrange a pile of overalls.

 

“But...”

 

“Don't be sorry for liking someone.” Seulgi's muffled voice is clear despite the barricade. “If anything, it's Wen-Wen's fault for being so likable.”

 

Seulgi stands again to face her, but nothing spills except a voice that sounds like she's not even a bit surprised.

 

But Irene catches Seulgi's shoulders shake and even if it's minuscule, it's all Irene needs to take initiative.

 

She steps forward, curling fingers under the mask, and lifts Seulgi's only line of defense to see eyes already squeezed shut and tears marking streams down her face.

 

With how close she is, Irene can hear Seulgi's silent whimpering, her teeth clenched so tightly that it's scary how Seulgi's been hiding it all to herself.

 

Irene swallows so she won't cry with her, playing as her pillar as she wipes the lines of pain off pink skin.

 

Seulgi's choked sobs breaks Irene apart.

 

“Don't tell Wendy I cried because of her, okay?”

 

Irene's already wrapping arms around her as Seulgi crumbles to the floor, following along so they're a mess beside open boxes of hats and that signature blue dress.

 

Seulgi's muffled wailing tears across her shoulder and into her bones, rattling her limbs that Irene's surprised her arm has yet to break off.

 

Seulgi's gripping fists at her jacket and as Irene massages her back, she apologizes for every mistake she's made (even if Seulgi insists otherwise).

 

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry...”

 

-

 

Joohyun doesn't sleep with her anymore.

 

They stopped sharing the bed for the past few days (and possibly counting) since their talk.

 

Suddenly Joohyun had set boundaries that were taller, wider, and thicker in length.

 

They say their goodnights across the living room instead of whispering between a tiny space that keeps their lips apart. They don’t spend time eating meals together, with Joohyun always claiming that she has assignments to be done.

 

They have been separated by a distance larger than an arm's length and it terrifies Wendy because Joohyun's doing it to help her love Seulgi.

 

Seulgi’s become a slave to an image Wendy used to have.

 

When she thinks about it, she is just as much under its reign as Seulgi – the two of them chasing an afterimage, grasping at smoke and hoping there's something solid to hold on to.

 

She’s not surprised when she leaves her room to find the apartment quiet.

 

The lack of sound haunts her and even when she can’t hear anything in her head, Wendy’s already bounding for the door, twisting the lock open and close.

 

Click. Click. Click – three,

 

She hasn’t gotten used to sleeping without Joohyun.

 

Every night she’d sit on her bed, listening in to the clacking of Joohyun’s keyboard and wondering if the woman would ever come in (whether it’d be a mistake, or a reflex, or even a desire – Wendy doesn’t care which) and staying up for as long as she could to find that Joohyun never does.

 

The fact that she’d leave her room’s door unlocked is a struggle in itself; Wendy can’t help but turn the lock open and close out of the itching knowledge that it isn’t locked (because what if some stranger comes barging in?) and forcing herself to keep it unlatched because maybe – just maybe, Joohyun would come in.

 

Click. Click. Click – forty-three,

 

When she’s finally slithering away from the door, Wendy spots a plate filled with bacon and eggs, a tiny white sticky-note placed right beside it.

 

“I know my cooking will never be as great as yours, but hopefully it’s not as bad as Sooyoung’s. I think I’m getting better though. Nothing burned at least? Have a great day!

 

PS: I’ll lend you some of my purple pillows and blanket so you can keep warm and sleep better. They’re clean, I promise. Good morning, Wan.”

 

—Hyun

 

Wendy’s still not used to seeing purple ink as a replacement for Joohyun’s voice.

 

When she takes a bite, Wendy chokes out a laugh, squeezing her eyes shut and chewing out a taste that’s only tightening a chain still wrapped around her chest, pretending that there aren’t tears trickling past her eyelids – it’s way too early in the morning for that.

 

Joohyun’s cooking has gotten saltier.

 

-

 

Irene is watching the last batch of lab students file through the door before clicking answer to her phone (that’s been vibrating for the past ten minutes already).

 

She checks each fume hood to make sure there’s nothing left behind, giving her usual greeting over the receiver.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Joohyun unnie? Come over, I'm taking a bubble bath and I need someone to talk to other than my ugly tiled walls.”

 

Irene twists the cap of each chemical bottle, tightening loose latches before ripping off blue nitrile gloves into the proper bin.

 

“I didn't know you considered your walls as a 'someone'.”

 

“Would you rather I call you a 'something' instead?”

 

Irene scoffs, amusement lining the tips of her lips. She writes the instructions for the next lab on a whiteboard at the center of the room, loving the simple responsibility of overseeing experiments as a TA.

 

“Wouldn't that be 'something'.”

 

“...How very 'punny'. My stomach hurts from all this laughter. Can you hear it over my tears of joy? Ha. Ha. Ha.” Sooyoung deadpans before Irene hears something splash against the receiver. “Now hurry up or I'll get wrinkly and you know I don't like wrinkles.”

 

Before Irene gets to retort – call her a giant prune, Sooyoung has already hung up, leaving Irene to click her tongue before shoving her phone into her pocket at a student coming in.

 

“Unnie, um, I don’t get this question…”

 

Irene curls a loose strand from her ear, brain immediately switching gears to the task at hand.

 

-

 

“Tell me something I don’t know, Joohyun unnie. I’m bored.”

 

It’s the first thing Sooyoung says when she opens the bathroom door (it was nice that she was given a spare key to Sooyoung’s apartment; the giant was lazy most of the time).

 

Irene ponders a bit as she shuffles through, catching Sooyoung play with the bubbles in her tub. She wonders why the taller girl’s usual teasing lips have formed a frown instead.

 

“I kissed Seungwan.”

 

Plop.

 

Sooyoung just dropped a rubber ducky into her tub.

 

“I’m certainly not bored now,” Irene rolls her eyes at Sooyoung’s twinkling grin, the taller girl calling her over with enthusiastic waves of her hands. “Come on, spill it. Spill everything.”

 

Irene chuckles as she sits down on the floor next to the tub, Sooyoung leaning eagerly over the edge, trickles of water cascading over wet skin.

 

“And then I found out she was dating Seulgi.”

 

She sees the lack of surprise in Sooyoung’s eyes, only made more evident by the swooshing motion of her hand, bubbles floating in the air, her expression nonchalant.

 

“They didn’t tell you?”

 

Irene’s pursing her lips, bringing her knees to her chest.

 

“…No.”

 

“Some friends.”

 

Sooyoung’s tongue is scathing, and even if it wasn’t directed at her, it’s still puncturing enough to have Irene choke on the hostility.

 

Irene attempts to hush her (especially when she still remembers how Seulgi had cried in her arms; she should’ve told the younger girl after her shift).

 

“It’s okay. No one has to announce their relationship to anyone,” Sooyoung is rolling her eyes, leaning back to flick water against her tiled walls. “It’s my fault for not noticing it sooner.”

 

“Yeah, it is. I thought you were observant, unnie.” Sooyoung scowls, flicking another finger against a cluster of bubbles. “But it’s inconsiderate when you’re friends with both of them – that’s twice the number of opportunities to tell you.”

 

Irene lets Sooyoung release whatever bouts of frustration she has left, curious at the way Sooyoung’s reacting like a ticking time bomb; she’s normally not this easily riled up.

 

She watches Sooyoung breathe in, let out a long breath of air before twisting back towards her, teeth no longer biting down.

 

“It's not like it wasn't obvious, though.”

 

“What?”

 

“You liking Wendy unnie,”

 

Irene keeps shut, eyes following the way Sooyoung twirls a wet strand of black hair with a finger.

 

“Why do you think I kept teasing you about making out in the car with her and all that?”

 

She frowns, leaning back as Sooyoung teeters forward with a grin drawing against her lips.

 

“I thought you do that just for fun.”

 

“...That too, but it's also because yeah, I knew.”

 

Irene turns her gaze away to the tiny droplet of water crawling down the edge of the tub, sinking into the space between square tiles.

 

“...Does Yerim know?”

 

Sooyoung’s shrugging, tapping a finger against her chin.

 

“Who knows. It's not like I talk to her about you.”

 

Irene’s eyes swivel back up to meet Sooyoung’s scrutiny, the taller girl humming a tune to a song she doesn’t recognize.

 

“Then let me rephrase that. Does she talk to you about me?”

 

Sooyoung is grinning.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, she does.”

 

“Do you know why she left me?”

 

Sooyoung begins to stretch her arms out, the water splashing to cause riptides in a tub still filled with enough bubbles to keep Sooyoung modestly covered.

 

“Nope. And I'm glad I don't. That means you two will have to talk it out and I don't have to play as a messenger girl.”

 

Irene hums, nodding along as Sooyoung sighs once more, dipping deeper until is hidden under water. She spots the rubber ducky floating near Sooyoung’s ear.

 

“We wouldn't use you that way, you know.”

 

Irene blinks blearily at Sooyoung's soapy finger pressing playfully between her brows, feeling Sooyoung's breath tickle her nose.

 

“I know, unnie.”

 

She swipes at the wet patch of water and soap on her skin, scowling at Sooyoung's hearty laughter as the taller girl cradles more bubbles into her hands. Irene can't help but be amused at the way she blows at them, watching soap fly off from pale fingers.

 

They sit in silence together for a little longer, accustomed to the comfortable quiet they tend to share. Irene merely watches the way Sooyoung squeezes handfuls of soapy water between careful palms, forming little waves along the bathtub, before cradling another puddle to repeat.

 

Irene's used to Sooyoung's muted lips.

 

Contrary to what she initially thought when she had first met the taller woman (who looked like she could speak machine gun – she owes her knowledge of weaponry to Yerim), Sooyoung’s not much of a talker.

 

“I still can't believe you told me to come over before just to pick up a T-shirt I left behind when I slept over that one time.”

 

To think she made a trip to Sooyoung’s place with a teddy bear just for a piece of clothing – only Sooyoung could make it sound like a necessity.

 

Sooyoung’s laughter ripples along the water, the rubber duck floating off to bump the edge of the tub.

 

“So? It's not like I'm going to wear any of the rags you call 'clothes'.” Sooyoung pauses for a bit. “Then again, I did since you left an oversized shirt and as much as I had fun wearing yours out as a 'boyfriend shirt',” Irene rolls her eyes at Sooyoung's suggestive wink, “The color began to fade and I'm a nice person so I wasn't going to throw it away either.”

 

Irene shakes her head, unsurprised of Sooyoung's crass tongue; it was an appeal no one else had, lacking a filter that Irene's used to hearing from everyone else. Even from Seungwan.

 

She takes the rubber duck to play with, letting it switch directions so it’s swimming towards Sooyoung’s feet instead.

 

“I met Seulgi unnie yesterday.”

 

Irene hums, her only acknowledgement to show that she's heard. She'd rather have Sooyoung take reign of the conversation, shifting closer to the tub so it'd help her hear better.

 

Sooyoung circles a finger along the surface of the water, bubbles breaking away at her touch.

 

“I almost convinced myself it was a date even when all she could talk about was someone else.”

 

Irene watches Sooyoung blow at a handful of bubbles. She's slightly surprised Sooyoung didn't slap the water instead.

 

“I'm not delusional. I don't pine over someone I can't have. I don't waste time and energy keeping tabs on a silly crush that will go away eventually. I don't give the time of day to even bother thinking about them. So why am I doing all the things I don't with Seulgi?”

 

Irene knows that Sooyoung knows – it's a rhetorical question as bright as the taller girl’s favorite hue of deep lipstick.

 

But with the way Sooyoung keeps silent under a looming quiet with her question hanging over sagging shoulders, Irene mumbles the answer for her.

 

“Because to you, she's someone worth all that effort.”

 

Sooyoung's laugh sounds jagged, like the edges are broken and she's just trying to pretend it doesn't hurt.

 

“I'm tired, unnie.”

 

Irene doesn't hesitate to reach her arm over, long sleeve be damned, and curls it over Sooyoung's shoulders. It's a relief when Sooyoung nestles her head, wet hair and all, in the space between her jaw and collarbone.

 

She’s all too aware that she’s been lending her shoulder for people to cry on; but it’s something Irene knows she does best.

 

“You're always so quiet unnie. But I like it. You're such a vacuum, gobbling it all up. Not to mention a rock for dealing with all of my complaints. How do you do it?”

 

Irene feels herself grin, rubbing her cheek against Sooyoung's scalp, teasing, but nevertheless true.

 

“Because to me, you're someone worth all that effort.”

 

Irene lets Sooyoung slap her and splash her with bubbles and water (even with the rubber ducky), knowing that hearing Sooyoung laugh like her wings weren't just about to chip off at her own self-deprecation is worth every sticky clamp of drenched clothes on her skin.

 

Joy has always been a tactician who kept her cards close to her chest.

 

“I'd like to think you have an emotional range of a plastic bag,” Irene begins, pausing to let Sooyoung's lips twist in scorn. “But you do feel things and as much as you want to hide it, you can't.”

 

“Unnie—”

 

“So let me feel them with you because I know how it's like to hurt alone, okay?”

 

For the first time, Irene watches Sooyoung break down.

 

It's messy and snotty and so unlike her; how poise cracks her glass-shell to spill insecurities she's bottled up for no one else to see. Sooyoung's stumbling on broken syllables and Irene doesn't hesitate to catch her when she has finally chosen to let someone in.

 

With a bunch of garbled excuses for words like “Stupid unnie,” and “Stupid feelings,” and “I was doing so well in holding them in until you asked,” along with wet spots drenching her shoulder, Irene holds her tighter. She doesn't mind that Sooyoung is drenched in bubbles and water and staining her clothes; Irene's never been picky with her attire.

 

“L-Look at what you did, unnie. Now I'm a waterfall. If you wanted me to make you wet so badly you could've just let me come up with better ways than this...”

 

Irene laughs at Sooyoung's choked attempt at humor. She’s never been one to show how soft she is.

 

Sooyoung's come unhinged and Irene makes sure she's there for her.

 

She waits until Sooyoung’s no longer quaking against her, patting her back, before urging her to stand.

 

“Now come on. You're going to get wrinkly if you haven't already.”

 

Irene barely gets up before Sooyoung’s hand encircles her wrist.

 

When Sooyoung yanks her into the tub instead, water drenching all over her clothes (oh god even her hair is wet), Irene is too busy hitting the taller girl to care that Sooyoung is teasing her about having landed on her body.

 

Irene makes sure to take advantage of that, pinching repeatedly against wet skin of Sooyoung’s sides.

 

“Unnie – eek! Y-You’re, hahaha – s-such a ert!”

 

Irene doesn’t care much for the jab (they’re both women; there’s nothing she hasn’t already seen), letting her fingers tickle soft skin.

 

Sooyoung has always sounded better when she was laughing, anyway.

 

-

 

Wendy sighs as soon as she enters the music shop, vaguely hearing the sound of the door's bell chime as she slinks her bag behind the cash register.

 

She gives her routine greetings to her coworkers, moving deeper into the back to hang her coat in the stockroom.

 

Wendy glances at her wrist to check the time, a frown lining her lips at the memory of stashing her watch in a drawer in her room.

 

Right. So she can't count Seulgi away anymore.

 

(“What happened to lesson 1?”)

 

Her finger is already tapping away on her bare wrist, the lack of sound keeping her from easing the ache in her head.

 

Wendy's twisting away from the stockroom's door to look for something – anything, to get her mind off of pictures she doesn't recognize, to drown out the sounds she's never heard before except in her head.

 

(“Why look down on yourself when you could look up?”)

 

She staggers towards a pile of boxes, looking for leverage from wobbling legs that suddenly can’t hold her up.

 

Wendy knows she should get through this; it’s for Seulgi, after all. She should be able to handle whatever comes her way; that a pulsing pain in her head should be nothing compared to what Seulgi has been through – alone.

 

But knowing all of that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

 

(“When I get hurt, I smoke to forget.”)

 

Wendy stumbles for her coat on the rack, desperate for the lighter in its pocket. She yanks it out as soon as cold metal flutters against her skin, relieved at the flipping ‘clink’ of its cap.

 

Clink. Clink. Clink – three,

 

(“But with you, I've forgotten what it's like to get hurt.”)

 

Wendy’s still not used to the sound—

 

Clink. Clink. Clink – six,

 

—but it’ll have to do.

 

When she gets to her signature number forty-three, Wendy is relieved her head doesn’t hurt anymore. Foggy pictures of Seulgi and herself have gone away; two look-alikes that Wendy can’t recognize except for their voices and faces.

 

But she’s trying. It’ll just take time before it stops hurting.

 

Maybe.

 

She gets up on weak knees, making sure Joohyun's lighter is safe in her jean pocket (in case she needs it again) and steps out of the stockroom, thankful that no one had seen her.

 

Wendy barely makes it through the aisle of pianos before her feet stops at the sound of someone singing.

 

“Don’t push me away and leave – I only have you,”

 

Wendy recognizes that voice, sifting through the clusters of guitars to find Seulgi harmonizing with Taeyeon. They’re singing a song that Wendy’s been using for her students to practice to; she didn’t know Seulgi would know the lyrics to it.

 

“Don’t go, if you love me – don’t leave me,”

 

She’s tempted to sing along, but she takes this as an opportunity to listen to Taeyeon’s improvement (her tone has sharpened to gold). She has always been the top student – Taeyeon didn’t really need the lessons anymore.

 

“Forever be by my side, even tomorrow.”

 

Wendy watches the two share a smile like it was a secret, Seulgi’s eyes disappearing into crescents that it’s just as bright as the last time she’s seen it.

 

She claps her hands so they’re aware of her presence, a proud smile worming its way onto her lips at Taeyeon’s cheeky grin before the little girl is running towards her.

 

Wendy laughs as she picks her up, holding her close, giggling at the tiny hands squishing her cheeks and coos at Taeyeon’s instinctive greeting kiss.

 

“Good afternoon to you too, Tae-Tae.”

 

She never dares skip a day of work; especially not when Taeyeon’s always been that constant presence. Taeyeon had been the only familiar thing she knew at a time where nothing else was.

 

Wendy hadn’t known Taeyeon’s name of course; her family had to tell her – all jotted notes in a journal filled with descriptions she’s been to and the people she’s met but couldn’t place. All she could remember were pathways that only her feet recalled, but even when she had told Taeyeon the first time they met:

 

“I’m sorry I can’t remember – can we start again?”

 

Taeyeon never saw her any differently – not like how her family did (still does), and Seulgi.

 

They would never say it out loud but Wendy could tell; it was all she could see in the way they’d watch her, even when their lips mouthed words that told her the opposite, had reassured Wendy for every doubt that spilled .

 

They were waiting for someone else and it wasn’t her.

 

She’s not a looking glass.

 

“Hey, Wen.”

 

She hasn't seen the taller girl in a while, not since she had kissed Joohyun (because that was all she could think about; how to close the gap that was only growing wider). Guilt coils at the pit of her stomach, uncomfortable and thick – a probing reminder.

 

Wendy’s voice comes out as small as she feels.

 

“…Hi, Seul.”

 

She watches the taller woman pinch Taeyeon’s cheek, the little girl slapping long fingers away as Seulgi sidles up next to her, a hand curling around her waist; Wendy reminds herself that she’s allowed to touch her this close – they’re girlfriends, after all.

 

“Tae-Tae here has been giving me some vocal training – she even taught me a new song. Isn't that right, Tae?”

 

“Yup!”

 

Wendy’s heart fills up with affection at Taeyeon’s giggles, Seulgi’s hand ruffling the little girl’s blonde hair before the door chimes and Taeyeon’s hopping out of her arms to run into her parents’.

 

She doesn’t forget to remind Taeyeon about guitar lessons the next day, and when the child nods an ‘OK’, passing an additional wave to Seulgi, “Bye Beargi!” Wendy realizes she’s letting Seulgi touch her even when the door closes and the store goes quiet.

 

Wendy unhooks the arm looped around her, guilt only festering to nestle up ; Seulgi needs to know.

 

“What are you doing here, Seul? Are you not working today?”

 

She pretends she’s busying herself with the stack of vinyl records by the door, watching her coworker bid himself goodbye as Seulgi’s steps mirror her own.

 

“I took a morning shift – I'm off now.”

 

“Oh, okay.”

 

Wendy’s not used to the silence; it’s too similar to the one back at the apartment, where all Joohyun ever leaves is a note on a table and a plate filled with salt (speaking of which, she’s going to have to reprimand the woman; food shouldn’t be that salty).

 

She circles over to the cash register, fiddling with the machine in hopes that the noises play louder than the quiet over their heads.

 

“Joohyun unnie came to see me today.”

 

Wendy almost drops a stack of coins if not for Seulgi’s palm cradling her hand. She thanks her with a timid bow and a whispered “Thanks,” hoping that Seulgi can’t feel how her fingers shake.

 

But of course she does because Seulgi’s wrapping her hands around it and pressing a kiss to Wendy’s skin.  

 

Wendy knows what that means; Joohyun has never been one to lie (not like her).

 

(“I'll apologize to her when I have the chance. You should, too.”)

 

Wendy keeps mum, turning away because she can't bear to look at Seulgi – Joohyun was right. Seulgi deserves better.

 

“…I'm sorry,”

 

It comes out like a wisp of air, so silent except for the tremor in of syllables that Seulgi needs to hear.

 

Seulgi’s kissing the back of her hand again, pressing words into her skin, etching heat so comfortingly warm that Wendy hates how it’s not burning her instead; she deserves it.

 

“She said she was sorry for liking you,” Wendy holds her breath, hiding behind curtains of hair because Seulgi shouldn’t be so gentle with her. “Are you sorry for liking her too?”

 

Wendy doesn't know what to say. What can she say when they both knew it was true?

 

It’s a feeling she has for Joohyun that is completely and utterly her own – a feeling not described in a notebook her family had written contents into of what she was supposed to know.

 

Joohyun are the pages Wendy has written all on her own.

 

She’s mumbling under her breath, wary of the calm expression on Seulgi’s face.

 

She’s sorry for a lot of things.

 

“I-I’m sorry I’m not loving you the way I’m supposed to,” Wendy watches Seulgi’s lips twitch to smile. “…I’m sorry for kissing you and wishing you were Joohyun.” Wendy bites her lip, not willing to let tears slip past her eyelids. “I’m sorry for not being that beautiful girl you remember me to be.”

 

Seulgi is kissing her cheeks and it’s more than enough to let her tears fall – it’s suffocating how choked she feels for the guilt eating away at her chest, but it’s better than Seulgi’s misdirected mercy.

 

“I told you already didn’t I? If it helps to think about her, then that’s okay.”

 

Wendy’s broken sob crashes past gritted teeth.

 

“But Seulgi, that’s not—” Okay,

 

“I know it’s not, Wendy.” Seulgi is rubbing circles along her skin, a free hand brushing away the fringe from Wendy’s eyes. “It’s just – I've loved you for so long, that I don't know how to let you go.” Wendy grimaces under Seulgi’s feather touch. “You taught me how to love myself – and then you left me. How could you leave me and never teach me how to let go?”

 

Wendy’s spouting hasty syllables that spill in discord, much like the chaos she feels in her head.

 

“I-I don’t know, Seul! I can’t – I can’t remember! I’m – I’m trying…”

 

“I know,” Seulgi is wiping at her cheeks again, a fond smile curling along the taller girl’s lips. “The Wendy I knew was always so mean anyway, so don’t beat yourself up over it. One day maybe, I’ll be able to ask her something.”

 

Wendy sniffles, swiping the streaks with the corner of her sleeve; Seulgi has always been the stronger one; it’s no surprise how hope still lines the words from .

 

“W-What would you ask her?”

 

Seulgi is giving her this quiet smile, a smile Wendy has seen so often in the noises she’s still learning how to listen to.

 

“How could you leave me with just lesson 1?”

 

For that brief moment, Wendy feels like things aren’t so opaque anymore, like the dots have connected on a map she’s never been able to read. Maybe it’s in the way Seulgi had said it, how her tongue curls each syllable, that causes some sort of switch to flick on in her head.

 

 

Whatever it is, it’s turning the gears in her lips so the answer comes easily, almost like she understood what Seulgi meant.

 

Her hand is reaching for Seulgi’s face, cupping her cheek, running a thumb along the contours of her jaw like she’s seeing her for the first time. Wendy watches surprise drape over Seulgi’s eyes, how starts to hang open like she recognizes the way she’s touching her skin.

 

When Wendy speaks, her voice is still hers, yet isn’t.

 

“Because that’s all you need, Seul.”

 

And then it was gone.  

 

-

 

AN:

 

The song that Seulgi and Taeyeon sang together was “Don’t Push/Don’t Push Me” for Uncontrollably Fond OST as suggested by @SeulDy94 over on twitter (I admit the lyrics are eerily fitting for Seuldy/Wenseul here and it’s even better that they sang it together in RL). Also, happy birthday dongsaeng (@haileytotoro)! I’ve greeted you before but here it is again, as promised.

 

As always, I’m humbled by your responses for last chapter (and every chapter before and after). Thank you for all the upvotes/kudos and comments; I see and cherish every single one. I’ve tried to be as detailed as possible to my replies below. I will continue to work hard to be worthy of your patience.

 

Hope you all have enjoyed this update – until next time.