-

Wendy wakes up wearing happiness on her lips.

 

curls up at the corners, creasing curves as she takes in the scent of lavender and vanilla, eyes fluttering open at the warmth of Joohyun’s arms around her.

 

She recognizes the morning hue from the rays of sunlight pooling over the contours of Joohyun’s neck, coloring her in kisses of gold and yellow. The softness of Joohyun’s collarbone plays as a resting place for Wendy’s lips, pressing fleeting touches across the skin despite not meaning to.

 

Wendy should be startled by the want crawling up her chest, clawing in streaks of need and desire, leaving stripes in shades of Joohyun’s touch; the taller woman’s fingers curling gently against her back.

 

She should be ignoring this feeling – pretending it doesn’t unlatch a gate filled with pictures of Joohyun, clustering her mind in images of Cheshire smiles and tiny strong hands.

 

Wendy can’t stop the grin writing across her face at Joohyun’s instinctive urge to hold her tighter – can’t stop her own fingers from clutching at Joohyun’s back, the woman’s sweater filling the spaces between them.

 

There’s a lot of things she should and shouldn’t be doing – things she should and shouldn’t be feeling.

 

Wanting this – was she wanting Joohyun? – falls further than that; somewhere between the lyrics in her chest and the noises in her head. Wendy doesn’t remember feeling this way – doesn’t remember ever thinking this way.

 

Since when did she start craving for someone’s touch?

 

Wendy pulls away – far enough that she can unlatch her arms (but Joohyun won’t have to) yet still close so that she could tangle her fingers in Joohyun’s hair, playing with the strings of soft ebony.

 

She should ask Joohyun for her shampoo; it’s so silky that Wendy loses track of time flitting her hand between the tresses; letting them cascade across her skin in streaks, soft like clouds – almost fleeting.

 

Joohyun doesn’t stir from her sleep even when Wendy’s fingers leave her hair to draw gentle caresses over her face; her fingertips leaving invisible trails over Joohyun’s brows, the arch of her cheek, the contour of her jawline, to the lines of her lips.

 

Wendy forgets they’re merely roommates – that they haven’t even broken the walls that shield them both from a past looming over their shoulders like boulders; crushing their postures in weights of ghost words and phantom hands, as she glides her thumb above Joohyun’s bottom lip, tracing the outline in small circles.

 

It doesn’t take much effort for Wendy to notice that there are missing pieces to a puzzle in Joohyun – how her eyes color a darker shade of chestnut whenever she drinks coffee; far away like she’s lost in another world and Wendy can’t reach her, or when they spend time together, eating or folding laundry; her pools of brown clear and open, warm like sun kissed sand.

 

Wendy wonders if she’s just as transparent – maybe that’d be why Joohyun sometimes just looks at her, words silenced on Wendy’s lips from her stare. Almost like Joohyun was searching for something; maybe putting pieces to a puzzle? Maybe even reading the letter in her eyes.

 

Wendy finds herself drawn in Joohyun’s successive breaths, her breathing humming to the tune in her chest, puffs of life threading out in wisps between parted lips.

 

She stops as soon as their air begins to mingle together, mists of Joohyun’s beating heart teasing Wendy’s mouth, cradling her lips like a magician’s hands, hypnotizing.

 

Wendy wants to know how love tastes like.

 

… Love?

 

Wendy pulls away – frantic like electricity thrums through her veins, jolting her back far enough so Joohyun’s lips don’t bring her in again – so her breaths don’t taint her mind, cradle it like delicate porcelain. She feels Joohyun’s arms still looped around her hips, the tips of her roommate’s fingers lingering over her sides.

 

Is it love? Wendy doesn’t know much about it – doesn’t have much experience with feelings pertaining to faster heartbeats and fluttering wings in her stomach. But maybe Seulgi already gave her the answer, “Like a love letter,”

 

Whatever love she’s learned, it’s in the way Seulgi keeps her company, holds her hand when they hangout together, and laughs along to jokes Wendy attempts to make even if they both know it’s not that funny. “That’s why I laugh,” she remembers Seulgi say, how her friend’s eyes crinkle at the corners, curving into crescents. “… Because it’s not funny.”

 

Could she call this love too? How she craves to touch Joohyun, hold her hand, keep her close, kiss her lips, and put the puzzle in sad eyes back together again?

 

Wendy freezes up when Joohyun snuggles closer, pulling her back into her vortex of lavender and vanilla, Joohyun’s lips pressing against her collarbone, her breaths smothering her skin in red, making Wendy blush up to the tips of her ears.

 

Joohyun’s nose bumps gently against her neck and it makes the walls tighten in Wendy’s throat, closing up and drowning her in tremors of emotions she’s attempting to bury deep in her chest. Wendy can smell her shampoo – tantalizing peach and immediately thinks, this is dangerous.

 

But even when her mind tells her to stop – tell her it’s not okay, what are you doing, Wendy still can’t help but brush away stray strands of onyx, press a kiss to Joohyun’s forehead, and let her lips linger on sun casted skin. She has done it once before, anyway.

 

Joohyun merely hums and it makes Wendy pull away, a smile carving across as she curls ebony behind her ear.

 

Wendy’s not sure if it’s love – maybe it’s really just like, but she wouldn’t mind the noises anymore if it means all she’ll ever see in her head is Joohyun.

 

She unclasps Joohyun’s tender grip around her hips, settles her supple fingers gently on the bed as she untangles their legs beneath the sheets, easing herself on her feet and glancing at the clock on her nightstand – 10:26 AM.

 

Pretty late – Joohyun would already be up by 9. Does that mean she really doesn’t sleep?

 

Wendy pretends it doesn’t make her worry, pulling the blanket so it covers up to Joohyun’s neck, right below her chin, and heads for the kitchen. If she could manage to make Joohyun sleep again, it wouldn’t be a problem anymore. That’s a plan.

 

Brushing down on the creases of her large navy blue sweater, Wendy pulls out the utensils needed to make breakfast, cracking eggs and stirring in a bowl with deft fingers.

 

She reaches for her cellphone lying on the kitchen table and clicks it open after the third ring.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Wendy!”

 

The volume of her voice makes Wendy bump her arm against the handle of the pan, almost knocking the contents over and she fumbles to steady it, cursing at her reaction to Seulgi’s casual greeting.

 

“H-Hi Seul, sorry – just surprised me,”

 

“… You have such a weak heart, Wen.”

 

Wendy laughs, flipping the pancake over, and lets it sizzle beneath the heat. “What is it?”

 

Seulgi’s chuckles envelope her ear, “Your roommate treating you well in the cold, winter nights?”

 

Her cough must’ve given her away, attempting to muffle the noise behind a hand – her blush already burning between her fingers. Seulgi gasps, dramatic over the phone.

 

“Oh. My. God. Wen – you didn’t.” Wendy doesn’t even have time to intersect, stop Seulgi’s brain from picturing things as the other girl barrels on. “Scratch that – is your roommate keeping you super warm like hot chocolate in the cold winter nights?”

 

Wendy sputters broken syllables, nearly burning her eggs and she has to rush to splay it out on a plate – peel off the burns from its crispy yellow edges.

 

“N-No, Seul – you got it wrong, it’s, it’s not like that!”

 

Seulgi’s snort is loud on the other end, disbelieving. “Right. Then why does it sound like your eggs are cooking between your legs instead of on the pan?”

 

Wendy almost bangs her forehead against the countertop, her knees suddenly weak at the implication and growing smile she knows is crawling its way up Seulgi’s face.

 

She has to steady her weight on the table, already unable to keep herself upright. “I-I, what – just, I didn’t – I’m not, no, wait – eggs?” Wendy squeaks, her voice going an octave higher as the heat flares her cheeks in a darker shade of red.

 

Seulgi guffaws, attempting to ease her heart rate to a slower thrum, “Kidding, Wen. You’re just so easy to tease,”

 

Wendy sighs, a hand to her chest as she waits for the organ to stop pounding in her ears. She’s thankful Joohyun’s still sleeping or else she’d end up asking things like, What’s the matter, or Why do you look like a tomato?

 

“I can tell she’s treating you okay, so that’s good.” Seulgi says and Wendy wonders about the change in tone, almost wistful. “Um, have you talked to your parents yet?”

 

Oh. So that’s why.

 

Wendy pretends it doesn’t bother her, how Joohyun’s face disappears like smoke in her mind – already replaced with her parents’, all worried and calling out to her.

 

She mutters quietly, “… No,” Wendy pats down invisible crinkles on her sweater, tries not to think about them again.

 

Seulgi hums, careful in her tone. “… They miss you,”

 

Wendy knows they do. Of course they would – she’s their daughter. It’d be sad if they didn’t.

 

She goes back to scraping off the burnt edges of the scrambled egg, vaguely wondering if she should make another.

 

Wendy pulls out the carton and cracks more. “I know, Seul.”

 

Her friend’s hum is almost inaudible, playing as background noise to their shared silence. Wendy pretends it doesn’t bother her – how the quiet allows the noises to come back in gushes of grateful smiles and relieved embraces not belonging to Joohyun.

 

“Won’t you call them at least?” Seulgi asks after Wendy flips the scrambled egg, attempting to distract herself from the whispers of her mother and father’s concern. “Let them know you’re okay?”

 

“And tell them what? ‘Sorry but I still don’t remember how much I love you’?” Wendy quips, tinges of guilt and regret spilling from her lips like acid. “It’d break them,”

 

Seulgi’s sigh seeps through her ears as she dumps the newly scrambled egg next to the crispier counterpart.

 

“But at least it’d sound like you’re trying, Wen.”

 

Wendy flares up like a lit match – triggered by the reminder of her poor attempt at remembering things she should. “I’m not running away Seul!”

 

 

Seulgi’s retort is quick, “I didn’t say you were,” but it doesn’t calm the sudden nerves in Wendy’s fingers; how she’s struggling with keeping the phone against her ear.

 

Their voices grow louder in her head like pounding honks from cars impatiently stuck in traffic. They both know the truth – after all, why else would she move out of her parents’ house to live with a stranger? Take the risk of dealing with someone who wouldn’t be able to deal with her habits?

 

Wendy knows she got lucky with Joohyun.

 

“Just… give it some thought, okay?” Seulgi suggests, hints of empathy tainting the lilt in her tone and Wendy squeezes her eyes shut at the sounds getting louder, wracking her skull.

 

She gives them too much thought.

 

When Seulgi coughs, as if muffled by a hand, Wendy remembers breakfast.

 

“… Well, how about you wish me good luck for tonight?” Seulgi asks with a lilt curling at the end of her question, almost like it’s her way of apologizing for bringing up something she knew was like taboo.

 

Wendy perks up at the news.

 

“Good luck? What’s happening tonight?” She asks, plopping sets of bread into the toaster.

 

“I’m going on a blind date,” The sounds of chips cracking fill her ears again, flitting between the pauses of silence as Seulgi recounts things Wendy wasn’t aware of. “A classmate suggested I go out for once, you know, try the relationship thing again – have a love life.”

 

Wendy knows how much Seulgi doesn’t want one – remembers that Seulgi already has someone tucked away in her heart.

 

“… I’m sorry, Seul.” The words leave her lips in whispers, as if the gentle tilt of her voice would ease the hurt she hears still marring Seulgi's.

 

Seulgi crunches on her chips again. "... Thanks. It's just – it's getting easier. Sort of."

 

Wendy hums, knows her friend’s heart is still broken – even when Seulgi’s lover never actually left her in the first place. Seulgi’s girlfriend was still here, yet wasn’t.

 

"Reminds me of me," How I don’t remember loving mom or dad, or my friends. Wendy says absently, keeping her noises to herself.

 

Seulgi laughs, dry, almost wistful at the comparison.

 

"Yeah,” her friend says as Wendy begins to tap her finger on the kitchen table, attempting to silence the noises. “The only difference is that she was in love with me and you're not."

 

Wendy grins despite herself, hoping to pull her friend back up again, lighten the mood – try to forget that she’s not thinking about her parents; “Seungwan, come home.”

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – six.

 

"Don't worry Seul. She'll remember again,"

 

She could hear Seulgi smile through her phone.

 

"Thanks, Wen."

 

It ends there, with Seulgi's laughter carrying bits of sorrow despite the dissipating tension and Wendy's soft giggles of goodbye and good luck lined with hope for her friend's happiness.

 

“Please, come home.”

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – fifteen.

 

Wendy pulls the bread and eggs together onto one plate, momentarily contemplating whether she should set up the table before deciding it'd be nice to have breakfast in bed.

 

Wendy settles on the side, her mattress absorbing her weight, the tray safe atop her lap. A smile immediately etches the corners of her lips, curving into a tilt that’s becoming more familiar every second she spends with Joohyun.

 

Almost as if to prolong the inevitable, Wendy lets her fingers run over Joohyun's brow, her temple, over her cheek, and to her lips – attempt to memorize each touch of warm skin beneath her fingertips. Wendy’s not willing to whisk away this image of peace carved across Joohyun's face.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – twenty-two.

 

The longer she looks, the more she realizes she hasn’t seen Joohyun this comfortable – this relaxed (Wendy’s seen specks of them, from moments of Joohyun ironing and folding clothes on Sundays to quiet meals they share together, almost intimate), without stress lining the muscles of her expressions, drawing sharp edges like jagged glass, broken and uneven along the contours of her jaw and eyes.

 

Wendy glances at the clock, 11:13 AM, and resolves to make this a routine thing – make Joohyun sleep, force the dark circles pooling like drips of honey to fade back into pale white.

 

With a voice filled too much of warmth and letters of love beneath words barely masking her heart, Wendy rouses Joohyun from her slumber.

 

“… Joohyun, time to wake up…” Wendy whispers, cooing in wisps of the lyrics in her chest, her knuckles leaving fleeting caresses over Joohyun’s temple. “… Wakey wakey, Hyun…”

 

Wendy forgets when her finger stopped counting.

 

-

 

Irene doesn’t remember dreaming.

 

Her brows scrunch up, nose crinkling at smooth streaks of warmth like brushes, heat coming off in gentle tides, seeping to dance across her eyelids, urging them to open.

 

She doesn’t remember dreaming – Irene doesn’t remember them pretending to be anything else but nightmares of coffee kisses and silk touches and lingering ghost words of ‘I love you’ painting on blazing hot skin.

 

She doesn’t remember dreaming about her.

 

The warmth of gentle cotton shower over her brow, easing Irene of this cloudy haze curtaining over her eyes like blizzard rain. It’s drawing watercolors for an image Irene knows she’s familiar with, the voice clasping onto her earlobes and painting streaks across the fog in her mind.

 

“… Wake up…”

 

A groan escapes Irene’s lips, attempting to figure out the picture that’s sketching itself behind closed eyes, the voice dropping lines of ink as it carves through clouds.

 

“… Hyun…”

 

It’s not her. She knows by the way her chest doesn’t clench in pulsing pain from her voice, pumping agony through her veins and invading her mind like corroding toxin – waste her away on bleeding poison from memories of a fleeting forever.

 

This one – this feels softer, like it’s afraid of getting hurt, afraid of being broken, of being alone and –

 

Irene sees pools of brown dotted in tinges of words too scrambled for her head to put together at the moment.

 

Her voice croaks out from the blurs of morning, “… Wan…?”

 

She almost misses the way her roommate’s lips automatically widen, bearing pearly whites, beaming in sparks of glee Irene remembers seeing more often as she squints, urging the smudges of obscure colors to clear away behind groggy eyes.

 

Irene feels warmth massage her brow again, Wendy’s fingers lingering over her forehead, her roommate’s voice cradling laughter between her teeth.

 

“… I guess nicknames naturally come along when you spend a night together, hm?” Seungwan says, her giggles making Irene float above oceans of giant grins and coffee.

 

It takes four blinks before Irene registers Seungwan’s words, rubbing at her eyes as Seungwan continues to massage tender circles over her temple, help her rid the smoky haze still clouding her mind.

 

“… I fell asleep?” Irene muses amidst bleary colors, and Seungwan’s laughter is feather light.

 

Seungwan curls a strand of onyx behind Irene’s ear, “… Yeah, you did.”

 

Irene doesn’t think much of Seungwan’s lingering touches.

 

It’s only when Seungwan mentions food that Irene finally doesn’t have clouds barricading her sight like a steel fortress, getting up so she could rest her back against the headboard. She spots toast and scrambled eggs splayed on a plate and metal tray, settled comfortably on Seungwan’s lap.

 

“Here,” Seungwan cushions a portion of eggs between two toasts, mimicking a sandwich and passes it to Irene. “It’s too late to be considered breakfast, but a little bit early to be called lunch, so we’re having brunch.”

 

Irene recognizes this confident Seungwan from the lacking stutters and fidgety fingers, wandering eyes and overhanging fringe.

 

“… In bed?”

 

“Yup,”

 

Irene quirks a brow, gaze falling to stare at the blanket still looped over her legs.

 

“Won’t there be crumbs?”

 

The question jostles Seungwan back to cracked words and nervous fingers, “O-Oh, right. It’ll be really messy and –”

 

Irene hushes her, gestures Seungwan to sit next to her, pats the space beside her and feels a smile curl at the corner of her lips as Seungwan nods timidly, curiosity etching her eyes in question but keeping mute under her instructions.

 

“We’ll just use the tray as our table okay?” Irene says, tapping Seungwan’s brow.

 

Irene’s mouth breaks into a grin at Seungwan’s shy hum of approval, their shoulder and arm squished comfortably against each other, heat spilling across cotton and polyester into skin, caressing waves of gentle company between the spaces of their friendship.

 

Irene munches on the toast, thanking Seungwan for the meal with a delighted squeal between chews of “You’re always great with food – and you spoil me,” and pinching Seungwan’s cheek when she reddens at the compliment, mutters beneath her breath, “I-It’s nothing, really – I just, I want to anyway…”

 

It’s the first morning Irene has ever had that didn’t consist of haunting memories ghosting over her limbs.

 

When she spots Seungwan tapping on her wristwatch (she’s thinking again – but about what, Irene doesn’t know), Irene lends her hand, urges Seungwan with a nudge of her shoulder to tap on her palm instead.

 

It takes a lopsided smile and drowsy eyes from Irene before Seungwan gives in, her roommate’s finger counting thoughts away against her skin. Irene wants to be there for her just like how Seungwan’s been with her all this time.

 

Irene forgets her morning ritual of coffee and smoke.

 

-

 

“Is that everything?” Irene asks, flitting through the other half of grocery bags in her hand as Seungwan filters through her own.

 

They shuffle to the side so they won’t block the rest of the customers motioning to exit.

 

Seungwan hums, “Yeah, I think so.”

 

They have just finished getting enough supplies to last them for the next week or so, various assortments of foods and basic necessities like new toothbrushes bundled up together in plastic.

 

Irene particularly wants to replace the shower curtain in their bathroom; it was getting a little grungy and the patches of filth and specks of mold have been staring at her for far too long already.

 

She trails behind, vaguely hears Seungwan crossing off the checklist with every swipe of her pen, still digging through – making sure everything was accounted for, attempting to drown out the audio plaque of crowding customers flitting back and forth.

 

“Nice lipstick young lady; very bold and very red.”

 

“Thank you,”

 

Her steps falter, stopping at the familiar lilt of a voice, head already swinging to the side for the sound of that particular pitch, the tinges of mischief beneath that familiar tone.

 

Irene recognizes copper brown hair cascading over her back – recognizes the familiar checkered pattern of her scarf and the pair of purple mittens.

 

It's her.

 

Irene knows it's her.

 

It has to be. It can't be anyone else.

 

"J-Joohyun?!"

 

Irene barely hears Seungwan call after her, eyes so focused on the figure disappearing behind gaggles of customers that she forgets they're supposed to be going home together.

 

Her legs are already moving, pushing away at clusters of people stalling near the exit, muttering things about dinner and dates as she slithers past, already on the other side of the door.

 

She can't lose her again.

 

Irene shoves her way through, ignores their sharp tongues filled with curses, her frantic palms pressing hard against the door so it'd turn faster.

 

She stumbles outside, almost slipping on fractured ice, staggering against strangers managing to still get in her way even when she’s already pushed them aside to see fading streaks of copper among crystals sprinkling the air.

 

It has to be her.

 

Flakes of white flutter in petals amidst a dark navy sky, silvering down and coloring the world in hues of grey. The snow crunches beneath her black boots, cracking the bustling sounds of stumbling passerby’s as Irene forces her way through the crowd, swearing under her breath for the amount of people keeping her away from her.

 

Swaying strands of copper brown hair bounce among the cluster of yapping individuals playing as stalemates to Irene's aching chest, teasing her, keeping her from closing the distance between them – maintaining the gap that has always been there for the past year in coffee drinks and puffs of cigarettes.

 

It has to be her.

 

“Joohyu–!”

 

She stops when she hears a thud and a grunt, Seungwan's yelp striking through Irene's ears and into her chest, forcing her pulse to a pause. When she looks back she only sees gaggles of pedestrians – spotting the end of Seungwan’s signature navy blue scarf flickering in the air, her roommate lost inside the crowd.

 

Irene attempts to step forward but falters (remembers there’s still her) when she looks the other way – back to her, and sees she’s stuck at a stoplight; the countdown flaring orange-red; 29.

 

“Unnie, kiss me?”

 

The background falls into silence – Irene can’t hear the thrumming cars, the plaque of chatter of passerby’s – the only sounds haunting her head being ghost touches of her words and Seungwan’s.

 

“… You make the noises hurt less,”

 

Her eyes swivel nervously back to Seungwan, startled to find Seungwan on the ground, covered in mountains of white, attempting to pick up the pears and apples rolling away amidst the people flitting about everywhere and nowhere at once. How did she fall?

 

Irene knows she has a choice to make.

 

“Irene unnie…”

 

She glances back to her, spots the signature copper-brown clustered in the middle of the crowd – the only thing familiar to her. Irene watches the countdown of the stoplight, playing in beat with the pounding rhythm in her chest.

 

16,

 

“…I won’t be able to let you go if you’re going to be like this,”

 

Seungwan.

 

“…Don’t be like this to me, please…”

 

Irene memorizes her back one more time – engraves the color of red-brown and checkered pattern scarf, tattoos the color of purple mittens into her mind and turns around, hurries to Seungwan because she shouldn’t be chasing after phantom smiles when she already has someone who makes her feel like she’s home even when Irene’s convinced herself that home is where the heart is.

 

Irene pretends (tucks away the nerves in her fingers, swallows memories of ghost kisses) as she bends down to pick up the remaining lost fruits, that she didn’t just stop chasing after her heart.

 

"… I love you, unnie."

 

"J-Joohyun?" Seungwan squeaks amidst her hasty haze of fitting back the missing groceries.

 

Irene slinks some into her own bag and helps her up, dusting away patches of soot and muddy water from Seungwan's knees and hands. Irene pretends she doesn’t hear her voice stuck in her head, clawing and reminding her that she might never get another chance to see her again.

 

"… I thought you left me," 

 

Just think of Seungwan.

 

"Did someone push you?" Irene's surprised at the growl that escaped her lips (how quick she is to pretend like she didn’t just happen – guilt clawing at ) as she brushes Seungwan's bangs back, fixing stray strands, removing specks of snow dusting her cheeks.

 

Seungwan's voice comes out meek, "I, um – I don't think they mean it. Everyone's in a hurry so..."

 

Irene clucks her tongue, wills away the last remnants of her from her mind; "Don't make excuses for people who don't deserve it," she quips, clasping Seungwan's hand and glaring at the passerby’s idling beside them, "No one helped you,"

 

“Do you love me, unnie?”

 

"You did," Seungwan murmurs behind a small smile, shy for the confession and grateful for their laced fingers.

 

Irene forgets the flaring anger rising (forgets that she’s walking away – spotting the green light with a quick glance), forgets that the walls tremor in frustration for something as little as this (but it's not little - it's the amount of kindness that is) and stares at Seungwan, attempting to read the painting of a melody behind brown pools that she's starting to hear in her head (covering her voice).

 

Irene vaguely wonders if it’s okay for her chest to be this loud when she looks at Seungwan.

 

She flushes under Seungwan's wide curious scrutiny, how her roommate tilts her head ever so slightly so loose strands of auburn falls over one shoulder, specks of white clutching onto the material, sketching her as innocent as she truly is.

 

Guilt eats at her in large bites, chomping along the walls of her stomach, spilling acid that it makes Irene churn at the reminder of breaking a muted promise she couldn’t even keep in her own head.

 

"… I thought you left me,"

 

"Joohyun?"

 

I’m an idiot.

 

Irene turns away, gently tugging at Seungwan's hand and leads her out of the supermarket. She needs to cool off her face with the way her cheeks feel hot like heat is bleeding from it in smokes.

 

"I'm sorry, for – well," Irene pulls her closer, speaking smaller because she's stuttering and she doesn't want everyone else to hear it. "... I'm sorry for leaving you behind," Again.

 

Seungwan bumps her shoulder with her cheek, nudging her silently and it makes Irene look at her, suppress the blush attempting to rise past her neck.

 

"You came back,” Irene is puzzled at the blur of words in Seungwan’s eyes as the shorter girl tugs at her sleeve. “That’s all that matters.” … So optimistic.

 

Despite the reassurances: of Seungwan’s fingers, her smile, and her words, Irene doesn’t feel any better. How she had so easily forgotten her roommate for ghost memories long gone, driven by the image of a girl who resembled her. She might not have even been her.

 

Irene apologizes for every breath she took following a shadow of her, apologies writing across every gesture she makes; squeezing her hand, holding Seungwan closer when whistles of wind blow just a little harder, and whisper ‘Sorry, I’ll be better,’ into her ear in intervals between Seungwan’s stuttering syllables and the minute pauses in Irene’s chest.

 

She forgets on their way back to the apartment that she had just let her heart walk away.

 

-

 

One by one Irene unlatches the hooks from the old beige curtain, scowling at the grime clasping onto her fingers like dusty caramel, and rolls it up, hiding away the specks of greenish grey mold with folds of ash gold still barely crisp.

 

She dumps it with a flick of her wrist, relief washing over her in waves as she watches the lid of the trash can shut with a click, the sound playing as the tell tale song of an annoyance finally dealt and done with.

 

Ripping the plastic cover containing their brand new sleek curtain dashed in solid royal blue (which Seungwan loved in particular – the girl couldn’t stop gushing over the shade and Irene knew then that the curtain was the one), Irene loops the hooks one by one, keeping her balance atop the ledge of the bathtub.

 

She’s glad she’s not wearing her socks, or else she’d slip – and Irene’s rather sure her back wouldn’t appreciate being crushed again.

 

“Hyun, um – where did you put the flour?” Seungwan’s voice comes out muffled from the closed bathroom door, her yell coming out seemingly meek – almost like the girl was whispering instead (they’ve resorted to nicknames – it comes easier than Irene thought).

 

Irene grunts as she attempts to puncture through a covered point with a hook, “In the bottom right drawer – by the refrigerator!”

 

“Hyun…” Her roommate’s voice gets louder, as if it was looming closer, “… You know I prefer the bottom left because it’s closer to the oven!” Irene chuckles at Seungwan’s whine, a rare sound other than when she’d pester her about her preferences, preferring certain things placed in specific order – or in particular places.

 

“And you know I don’t like moving the flour bag so I could get my soy sauce, right?” Irene quips, finally looping half of the curtain.

 

The apartment falls to a quiet hum again, bouts of muffled tinkling aluminum and porcelain ringing past the wooden bathroom door – background noise that reminds Irene that her roommate’s about to make one of her many delicious meals and that she should at least help out with the process of it.

 

“But Hyun…” She yelps at the creaking door, Seungwan’s voice coming back frighteningly closer than she thought it’d be – her hands fumbling with the last loop. “H-Hyun!” Irene’s clutching at the curtain, attempting to keep herself steady from the ledge but the surprise still lining her limbs keeps her frantic.

 

Seungwan’s clutching hard onto her back, her sweater probably carrying a picture of her roommate’s fist for how her knuckles are pressing against her skin, but Seungwan’s attempt to help her from falling fails as Irene spins at her grip, her foot slipping off at the added weight.

 

Everything else goes too fast but Irene vaguely hears the sound of tearing plastic – her fists still clasped tightly around the curtain (the poor, poor, blue curtain, she thinks) piercing sounds akin to shredding paper as she turns around in time to see Seungwan’s wide eyes – filled with a fear she remembers seeing that night;

 

"… I thought you left me,"

 

Irene coughs out air as soon as her back slams against the bottom of the tub, her body slipping to fill the container, Seungwan’s weight pressing heavily above her, squeezing out extra oxygen from her lips – emptying her lungs like a choked balloon.

 

It doesn’t help that water is suddenly spraying against her face – her body; everything, making her gasp out as droplets of liquid pools past , clasping at the walls of , playing as roadblocks for her lungs clutching for air. Her foot must’ve stubbed the handle of the shower and flicked it on somewhere along her fall if her toe hurting was anything to come by.

 

Irene wasn’t planning to take a shower until after the curtain was put on. Oh god, the poor curtain.

 

“I’m so sorry! A-Are you okay, Hyun?” Seungwan’s weight on her stomach makes it tougher to reign herself in, groaning in response as Irene tries to discern the colors in her head, dizzy at the fall. “Joohyun?”

 

Irene’s thankful Seungwan’s hovering over her so the water stops splashing on her face, her eyes still shut as she swipes a hand to flick liquid off.

 

“… I’m fine,” she grunts, blearily blinking past wet curtains of auburn hair, feeling Seungwan’s hands wiping away at remnants of water from her forehead. “I just –” Irene coughs, sputters bits of liquid choking from her lips.

 

“Oh! Here, let me just –”

 

Seungwan attempts to get off, her palms settling on the floor of the tub but it must’ve been as slippery as Irene thought it’d be (the ledge wasn’t joking, Irene thinks bitterly), because in the next moment, Seungwan’s chin knocks hard against Irene’s forehead and they’re both groaning from the impact.

 

“Seungwan, just – just use my shoulders,” Irene says, exasperated at the tragedy of them being stuck in their own bathtub. She watches with a raised brow as her roommate attempts again, her hand easily teetering off from the tub. “… Wan, seriously.”

 

She sees Seungwan bite her lip, her fingers hesitantly curling around her shoulders and Irene wonders amidst the sudden silence (other than the continuous flush of running water still streaming against Seungwan, blocking Irene of the showerhead), if it’s okay for roommates to be this particularly close – lodged in the bathtub all wet and stuck together (at least none of them are wearing white). How intimate.

 

Irene rubs at her eyes, sees past bleary colors as Seungwan turns the knob so the water stops. It takes another groan to slip through her teeth before Irene manages to finally sit up, leaning her back against the end of the tub. She rests her head against the tile of the bathroom and settles there, shutting her eyes again, waiting for the pain to trickle away from her bones.

 

“… Hyun?”

 

“Hm?” Her brows furrow when she hears Seungwan tread back into the tub, still soaking wet from the water (Irene can feel her own clothes stick like glue to her skin) and peeks out behind half-lidded eyes.

 

“Tired?” Seungwan asks, sitting across from her and pulling her legs into her arms so she could cradle her head against her knees.

 

Irene feels the corners of her lips twitch upwards. She curls her legs up so Seungwan would have more room.

 

“Yeah,” she says, before rubbing at her shoulder, “… Just resting a bit – my back still hurts.”

 

“Want me to massage it?”

 

Irene laughs, “No it’s okay, Wan. Besides,” she says as she glances at the doorway, “Aren’t you going to bake?”

 

Seungwan’s finger is tapping on her knee, “W-Well, not until you’re really okay…” it falls into mere murmurs, but Irene’s close enough to hear it, smiling as Seungwan avoids her gaze, stares at a droplet cascading in pauses at the edge of the tub.

 

They fall into a calm quiet. Irene takes this time to watch Seungwan – watch how she’s still the same, hiding behind her fringe (it’s gotten longer), her finger still remembering its religious tapping, yet different; how comfortable Seungwan finally looks in her own skin, no longer doubting the things in her head; whatever they are.

 

It hits Irene like a freight train that they don’t know much about each other – even when they’ve lived together for a few months already. She knows the basics; that Seungwan likes the color blue, loves baking and cooking, has the habit of tapping things, preferring the noises of ‘ticks’ and ‘clicks’, and plays various musical instruments.

 

“… Um, Joohyun?”

 

Irene glances back from following the tiny droplet lingering at the edge of the tub. She sees how Seungwan’s fidgeting – almost like what she was about to say was a sin and Seungwan wasn’t sure if it was okay to allow such poison to spill from her lips. Irene’s brows crinkle at the way her roommate’s lip gets caught between her teeth, almost like she’s forcing herself to keep shut.

 

Irene urges her to continue with a nodding head, “Yeah?”

 

Seungwan looks guilty as soon as her words trickle out from , “… Why were you running?” She bows her head as soon as it floats in the air long enough for Irene to process what she’s asking.

 

Irene never realized her roommate has still been walking on glass since their introductions left their lips, “I’m Joohyun,” “People don’t really like the sound of ‘Seungwan’ so I go by ‘Wendy’ instead,”  – how they still have this invisible wall wedged between the distance that keeps them apart, too far to even know what the other prefers to eat.

 

Irene stares at the way Seungwan refuses to look up at her, as if fear is eating her up and swallowing her whole, her chin tucked right against her collarbone, auburn draping over her expression like it was a shield.

 

Irene wants to remove this cloud of terror that’s cocooning Seungwan like a blanket made of the distance that keeps them from being more than just roommates; she thinks it’s about time (four months and three days since they’ve exchanged each other’s names) that they got rid of this wall that keeps them from being comfortable enough to share stories that make them hurt.

 

“… I was looking for her,”

 

Seungwan’s nose scrunches up, her head rising a little from where it hid behind her knees. “’Her’?”

 

Irene nods, glancing at the broken blue curtain dangling precariously like a damaged toy, “My girlfriend,”

 

“’Girlfriend’?” Seungwan echoes, her eyes widening a fraction behind curtains of hair. “You have a girlfriend?”

 

Irene’s gaze swivels back to Seungwan, watches her jaw drop, gaping at her despite her stare.

 

She laughs, “Are you more surprised that she’s a girl or that I’m dating?” Irene asks, amusement spilling between the spaces of her teeth.

 

Seungwan’s stuttering, “R-Really? But – I-I haven’t seen her before, and –” she’s sputtering broken words like they’ve been hacked off into pieces just before they leave . “ – and I shouldn’t be surprised you’re dating, because, um, of course you’d be taken, being as pretty as you are…” Her words end in trailing murmurs, but it doesn’t escape Irene’s hearing.  

 

Irene nudges Seungwan with her foot, tapping lightly against Seungwan’s ankle, playful. “Thanks for calling me pretty, though I guess the more correct term would be ‘ex’ girlfriend.” Seungwan doesn’t care if she’s a girl.

 

“’Ex’?” Seungwan parrots again and Irene tries to pretend she doesn’t notice a drop of water trickle down her roommate’s cheek to linger on the line of her jaw, opting to stare at the tiny crack on the tiled wall just beside Seungwan instead.

 

Irene presses on the end of her sleeve, squeezing bits of water from it, steels each syllable with coats of armor Irene knows she doesn’t have much of left. She’s getting tired of being strong.

 

“… She just…” Maybe Seungwan has a knack for reading body language (Irene wouldn’t put it past her with her slight OCD-ness), because the girl slides closer, loops their feet so they’re tangled together, her warmth easing into her skin like a safety net. “… She just went away and I still don’t know why,” … she left me, was what Irene wanted to say but the words won’t let go of her lips, dangling out like a swaying tree branch on , teasing her of the cold truth she already knew of but can’t admit.

 

“… I’m sorry Joohyun,” Irene doesn’t know why she’s apologizing as Seungwan’s fingers twiddle gently with Irene’s toes, her expression masked by her hair again. “… I’m sorry I kept you from finding out why,” Irene takes note of her trembling shoulders – her trembling voice, how they quake beneath a drenched grey sweater and shaking lips.

 

Irene frowns, clicking her tongue in disapproval before she leans forward, tilts Seungwan’s head up with a finger beneath her chin because she shouldn’t be getting used to keeping it down.

 

Irene’s voice comes out too warm, too soft, too gentle, despite the growl thrumming – too akin to the whispers of ‘I love you’ that spilled from her lips countless times for her.

 

“Stop apologizing for things that are out of your control, Seungwan.” She clasps their hands together, feels Seungwan’s fingers tremor under her grip – Seungwan’s lips quivering from the chill clutching at their sticky clothes. “Don’t apologize for being my priority,” Irene says as she curls locks of auburn behind Seungwan’s ear, sees how the girl quakes under her touch.

 

Seungwan is freezing.

 

Of course, Irene thinks, they’re still soaking wet from head to toe.

 

Without a word, Irene ushers her up, guides Seungwan out of the tub before grabbing the blue towel hanging beside the sink her roommate loves so much to dangle it over Seungwan’s shoulders. Irene ignores the wounded curtain, torn into a heap of shredded plastic that Irene couldn’t care less about at the moment.

 

“J-Joohyun?” Her stuttered name only brings in more guilt to Irene as she leads her out of the bathroom, taking her own towel from the rack and urging her towards her respective room.

 

Irene smiles, “Go change, Wan.” Think of yourself for once, the rest of Irene’s words never leave her lips as she pushes Seungwan, her palm pressing gently against the small of her back, passing her a dismissive wave at Seungwan’s lost look.

 

When she hears Seungwan shut the door behind her several steps later, recognize the quiet clicks of her roommate’s lock ticking open and close until it reaches Seungwan’s favorite number – 33, Irene heads for her own room, rubbing the white towel against her hair.

 

Seungwan deserves a monument built in her name for her muted kindness – for her silent acts of comfort.

 

-

 

Irene’s flicking through the various colors of shower curtains, attempting to find the same shade of blue Seungwan loves so much (the same one Irene had unfortunately ripped due to her inability to not be afraid of even the slightest thing).

 

She had left the apartment with an overwhelming sense of curiosity – a giant question mark growing in the back of her mind that Irene wonders how it even got there in the first place.

 

Her thoughts go back to just moments before, when they had just come out of their respective bedrooms, still attempting to dry their hair from the unfortunate event, Irene settling down at the couch and Seungwan following suit.

 

Irene wanted to replace the curtain right away, “It’s bugging me like a mosquito bite,” She remembers saying as laughter lines drew over Seungwan’s face.

 

Seungwan had ushered her over and told her to settle in front of her, reaching out and unlooping the white towel around Irene’s neck,

 

“Come here, Hyun.”

 

Irene hadn’t thought much of it, crossing her legs so Seungwan could get closer, have better reach as Seungwan draped the towel over her head and began to dry her hair.

 

She had grasped at Seungwan’s wrist, “Oh, you don’t have to do that Wan, I can –”

 

Irene suddenly couldn’t see, the towel shielding her vision.

 

“Too late,” Irene had been surprised at Seungwan’s lighthearted laughter, sounding as smooth as a jazz chord progression, falling in rhythm to the somber quiet of the apartment. “And I want to, okay?”

 

She had no qualms about it. Though Irene knew Seungwan was spoiling her quite a bit – too much, even.

 

“We practically showered together, Wan.”

 

Seungwan’s laughter caressed the wounds of a past Irene wouldn’t mind forgetting if it meant she could hear such happiness again, streaking her memories like it made them lighter to carry.

 

Her fingers drew tender circles around Irene’s scalp, the towel cushioning the indents of her nails. Seungwan’s soft massages were lulling Irene to sleep, her hands dancing a soothing melody across her head like the keys to a piano.

 

Irene even felt wisps of air flutter against her lips, as if teasing her with the end of a kite that could carry her to slumber if she just moved closer. It didn’t help that the towel was still covering her line of sight, preventing her from seeing where the sky started and the darkness ended.

 

It took a few breaths ghosting over when Irene realized Seungwan had stopped drying her head.

 

Irene’s lips move to form her name, “Seungwan?”  feeling tendrils of feather touches before it went away as Irene lifted a portion of the cloth so she could finally see again.

 

She was startled to feel Seungwan jolt back, like electricity flowed through her veins, her eyes wide and filled with colors too full of everything for Irene to discern. She saw clouds of shock, pain, hesitation, and happiness, all at once – from the way Seungwan’s lips mouthed syllables, never once spilling a sound.

 

“What is it?”

 

Seungwan never really answered her. She just got up and muttered, “Bake,” and went right to it, pulling out assortments of bowls and flour, settling herself quickly into the automatic routines of the kitchen.

 

Irene had stayed on the couch, remained stunned as she watched her roommate tie the apron around her back, and wondered if something was wrong.

 

Irene grins at the sight of the familiar royal blue curtain, snatching the item between slim fingers and striding straight for the cashier. She can finally shower again without the lingering fear of grime sticking to her clean skin.

 

As she waits in line, two customers away from the till, Irene lets her mind wander back to her roommate, back to startled pools of brown that carried more life than an ocean.

 

Irene still wonders how Seungwan could look like she wanted to run away and stay right where she was at the same time.

 

“Joohyun unnie?”

 

She blinks at the giant column standing right in front of her, dressed in a red pea coat and black sleek pants, recognizing the long shade of ebony cascading over her shoulders.

 

“Sooyoung?” Irene says, startled to find her friend lined up for the same cashier, her eyes disappearing into crescent moons akin to that famous pop idol member.

 

“Hey,” Sooyoung greets, her grin beaming pearly whites as Irene blinks past the haze of bright light, “Just preparing for a date,” she says, lifting a teal dress, specks of striped white outlining the contours of the material. “What about you, unnie?”

 

Irene shows her the item, “Curtain,” she says simply, the two taking a step forward as the line shortens by one.

 

Sooyoung attempts to muffle her giggles with a hand, before nudging her with an elbow against her shoulder. “Hey, uh – this might sound weird… and out of the blue, I know…”

 

Irene’s brows furrow at the meek sound of Sooyoung’s voice as the other girl scratches her neck, as if sheepish at a request playing in the puddles of her mind.

 

“… What?”

 

“Will you go on a double date with me?”

 

Irene’s already spinning around before the question fully leaves Sooyoung’s lips, the younger girl’s grip clasping hard against her elbow, forcing her to still from where she stands.

 

“I’m not going to put myself in awkward situations Soo,” she huffs, crossing her arms as Sooyoung slaps her palms together, bowing her head, as if praying for her presence – begging.

 

“For me unnie? Please? I really like her, and well…” Irene raises a brow and nudges Sooyoung with her foot to her shin to take a step back as the line moves forward again, “… She said it’d be nice to get rid of the awkwardness because, you know, ‘the more the merrier’,”

 

Irene scowls, “… That sounds dumb,”

 

Sooyoung looks like she wants to disagree, but nods after a moment, “… Yeah, so, is that a yes?”

 

“No.”

 

“Unnie…” Irene pinches the bridge of her nose at Sooyoung’s whine, “… I know it’s last minute, but I was planning to ask you once I got home,”

 

“When’s the date?”

 

“Tonight,”

 

Irene clicks her tongue, already shaking her head, fervent repeats of ‘no’ escaping her lips in rapid succession as Sooyoung grabs at her cheeks, squeezing them tightly, forcing Irene to swat her hands away, slap the probing fingers from her face.

 

“I need to replace my curtain, Sooyoung.”

 

“That would only take at most ten minutes, unnie.”

 

“I’m a perfectionist,”

 

“And I’m a realist, unnie.”

 

Irene pushes Sooyoung towards the cashier when the final customer leaves, watches her friend filter through her bag, placing the exact change before clasping at the plastic bag.

 

When it’s her turn, Irene punches in her pin code before watching the receipt print off in stuttered pauses as the lady hands her the item. As soon as the receipt settles into her fingers, Irene’s stalking off towards the exit, Sooyoung trailing closely behind.

 

“… Please unnie?” Her friend begins again and Irene sighs as she dumps the paper into her plastic bag.

 

“I’m not going to partner myself up with some stranger –”

 

“Then bring your roommate,”

 

Irene almost trips on a tiny rock, stubbing her toe, before scowling at the little piece of gravel. “I’m not bringing Seungwan into this mess,”

 

“You two are going to settle the awkwardness by just being there, okay? Nothing fancy,”

 

Irene scoffs, “You’re right, it’s not fancy.” Sooyoung looks hopeful until she groans at the rest of Irene’s words, visibly deflating. “It’s called hard work.”

 

She admires Sooyoung’s resilience and fighting persistence, accepting her offer (her mind tells her it’s bribery but Irene can’t think past the memory of clean laundry) of buying Irene fabric softener for the rest of the year and a new steam iron as down payment.

 

Irene ignores Sooyoung’s gushing groan of an empty wallet and begins writing up a script of her lines in her head to convince Seungwan to come along.

 

-

 

It takes 63 clicks from the lock, 45 ticks of her watch, and 24 carrot muffins out of the oven, to finally settle the racing thrum in Wendy’s heart – to calm the rising tides barraging her chest and drowning it in memory of Joohyun’s lips grazing hers.

 

Wendy can’t forget the feeling of her name, “Seungwan?” slipping past Joohyun’s mouth, spilling between the spaces of her teeth as Joohyun’s lips caressed Wendy’s like a fleeting touch – teasing Wendy of what love could taste like; divine, their mouths leaving silk streaks of what could be.

 

Wendy hadn’t meant to move that close – hadn’t meant to move close enough so she could feel Joohyun’s breath play with hers, her lips brushing hers. Maybe the towel played as a catalyst to her want, her need, and knowing Joohyun couldn’t see what she was doing – couldn’t see how close Wendy was to her, it gave her all the courage she needed to just try. To take a sip of how it felt like to taste fine wine, luscious and warm.

 

She closes the tap of the sink, settles the last plate on the stand to dry and dabs her hands against the cloth hanging by the oven.

 

Wendy hadn’t known what to do then, settling for running away, pretending it didn’t happen and hoped Joohyun didn’t know what she had just done.

 

Joohyun didn’t sound any different – she even looked a little lost, puzzled at her hasty retreat but Wendy couldn’t bear to look at her any longer when the desire clawed at , pushing her to do it again – taste Joohyun again. Fully. It terrified her.

 

It wasn’t even a kiss, just the slight touching of their mouths – nothing special. But her heart won’t stop reminding Wendy that it was; that it was something special, even if it was just shy of a kiss.

 

Wendy stubs her toe against her guitar at the sound of the lock clicking open, even when it was already settled in its stand, not lying around haphazardly on the floor like she wanted to at that moment – feeling worn out from the scent of vanilla and lavender still wafting through her mind’s eye, her lips still tingling of Joohyun’s touch.

 

“Found the same one you liked, Wan.” Joohyun’s voice filters through her ears, sounding lovelier than Wendy remembers it to be. “We can shower together properly this time,” the joke doesn’t escape Wendy, but it still manages to color her red, the blush crawling up her neck as Joohyun throws a playful wink her way.

 

Don’t do this to me,

 

“Um, would you mind if we went on this group date for a friend of mine?” Wendy watches Joohyun scratch at her cheek, looking sheepish as she glances away, settles her eyes on the pan still carrying carrot muffins. “She wants company and, well, normally I wouldn’t go, but, um…”

 

Wendy keeps her hands from clutching Joohyun’s jacket sleeve, “… Fabric softener?” She offers wistfully, tangling her fingers together so they won’t reach out for her, as she watches Joohyun laugh, nodding guiltily.

 

“And a steam iron.”

 

Wendy hides her hands behind her back, keeps them as far apart as she could from Joohyun.

 

“Of course,” she says with a chuckle, nods along as Joohyun hangs her jacket on the rack, “I wouldn’t mind going,” she agrees with the spontaneous plan, stepping aside as Joohyun rounds the counter of the kitchen table, too close for Wendy to pretend she doesn’t smell vanilla and lavender.

 

“I’m going to go put this up,” Joohyun says, showing her the royal blue curtain she remembers pointing out to her before, once she’s done wiping off specks of flour from Wendy’s cheek, “Thanks for always feeding me, Wan.” Joohyun smiles at her, ruffling Wendy’s hair like she had done once long ago, affection drowning Wendy like sand by the shore. “And thanks for not letting me go alone,”

 

Don’t do this to me, please…

 

Wendy smiles up at her, her hands gripping a string of her apron between fists at her back as Joohyun walks away, leaves her to burn in lingering trails of her tender touches.  

 

Air finally fills her lungs (when did she stop herself from breathing?) as Wendy grips the end of the counter, squeezing her eyes shut to will away the images of Joohyun looking at her like she meant something to her.

 

Don’t make me feel more than I already do,

 

Wendy attempts to erase how she had nearly let her fingers loose, nearly clasped at Joohyun’s face and almost pulled her in like she was her oxygen mask.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – three,

 

Wendy copes with her thoughts the only way she knows how, her finger playing the familiar notes against her watch, attempting to ease the noises in her heart and head.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – six,

 

-

 

Wendy just finished locking in her seatbelt when she receives Seulgi’s text message.

 

(I hope this date goes well!)
Sender: Kang Seulgi
Received: 6:47:18 PM
Received: 12/17/15

 

She nearly drops her phone, the device dangling between jittery fingers as Joohyun settles in beside her, turning the ignition on and exiting out of the driveway.

 

Fear clutches at like it’s shredding away whatever excuses she has left for a baseless assumption that Joohyun’s girlfriend – ex, was Seulgi.

 

Wendy knows it’s irrational – how Seulgi had told her of a past lover (but she never asked for her name – she should have); it wouldn’t be Seulgi to keep a secret like that from her, but would it really be farfetched? Seulgi was going on a date tonight, just like they were – wasn’t it too much to be just a coincidence?

 

“You texting a friend?” Joohyun’s voice snaps her out of her hazy thoughts, “I should meet them – see if they’re treating you okay,” Wendy avoids her gaze as Joohyun glances at her, a twitch of a smile perking up at the corner of her roommate’s lips.

 

Wendy attempts to hide the name, ignore how Joohyun’s words eerily match Seulgi’s whenever she mentioned meeting her roommate.

 

“Y-Yeah, one day…” She mutters quietly, dabbing the keys on her phone, typing up a hurried reply.

 

(Good luck! What’s your date’s name?)
Sender: Son Seungwan Wendy
Received: 6:52:09 PM
Received: 12/17/15

 

“What’s your friend’s name, Hyun?” Wendy asks as they turn a corner, halting at a red light.

 

“Sooyoung – but she prefers ‘Joy’ for appearances sake,” Joohyun replies with a chuckle, “Something about wanting to sound ‘happy’ even when she’s really not,”

 

Wendy hums absentmindedly, waiting for Seulgi’s inevitable reply – ending the suspense latching onto her lungs like titan fists.

 

She jumps at the mute vibration and flips her phone open.

 

(Thanks! And she said her name was ‘Joy’; I guess she’s a happy person?) 
Sender: Kang Seulgi
Received: 6:56:20 PM
Received: 12/17/15

 

Wendy pales at the revelation, feels her face drain of life and whiten like the flickering snowflakes falling from the night sky. Seulgi and Joohyun are going to meet. They’re going to meet and then –

 

Joohyun’s unclasping Wendy’s seatbelt, her voice sweeping tendrils across Wendy’s cheek. “What’s got you thinking so much that you didn’t hear me calling you the first three times?” She asks amusedly as Wendy blinks away clouds of Seulgi and Joohyun, wills away pictures of them holding hands, kissing and saying how much they love –

 

“You’re not getting cold feet, are you Wan?” Joohyun asks, and Wendy sees concern drawing itself in her dark pools, her breaths ghosting over Wendy’s lips that it forces her to turn away, curl her phone into a rock between her fingers.

 

Wendy’s words come out in shuddering gasps, attempting to quiet the tremors in her chest, how the beating organ is pounding like there’s a quake about to rupture and swallow her whole.

 

“D-Do we have to…?”

 

Joohyun’s sigh is heavy but resigned, “Not really. I like my iron and I have enough fabric softener to last the year anyway.” Wendy’s surprised at Joohyun’s quick agreement, no complaint leaving her lips. “Want to go home?” Joohyun asks her, and Wendy’s already feeling relief drench her chest, putting out the fire at the thought of losing Joohyun (she doesn’t even know why, it’s just clenching at her heart like it’d actually happen).

 

Wendy’s about to nod her head, say “Yes, that’d be great Hyun,” before someone knocks at Joohyun’s window, familiar long ebony mane cascading over her shoulders.

 

“Unnie!” The girl calls out, and Wendy recognizes her to be Joohyun’s friend – Sooyoung, ‘Joy’, “Aren’t you guys going to stop making out in there so you can keep us company or what?”

 

Joohyun knocks at the girl’s head with a light slap, reprimanding her as Wendy peers over the girl’s shoulder to see Seulgi already inside, alone at a 4-member table, clicking away at her phone.

 

Wendy feels her mobile vibrate again.  

 

(I think the rest of our group date members are shy, Wen-Wen! Joy’s trying to get them out of their car!)
Sender: Kang Seulgi
Received: 7:02:36 PM
Received: 12/17/15

 

Wendy sees Joohyun’s apologetic smile, and she can already read the words about to leave her roommate’s lips, “We can still go home, Wan.”

 

She bites the bullet and hopes she won’t regret it.

 

“We’re already here, aren’t we?” Wendy says wistfully, matches Joohyun’s sheepish smile as they exit the black sedan.

 

She tucks away her phone into her pocket, follows Joy as Joohyun mimics her steps beside her. Wendy watches with dread crawling up as Seulgi’s back looms closer, Joy pointing towards them – ushering Seulgi to turn around and when her close friend finally does, Wendy’s holding her breath; listening in for Joohyun’s reaction.

 

“Wendy? What are you…” Wendy watches the gears turn in Seulgi’s head, how her eyes widen in realization before her lips curl upwards into a beaming grin. “You’re the shy person in the car? Why didn’t you tell me?!” She squeals in glee, pulling her in for a giant hug, choking the oxygen out of .

 

Wendy’s sputtering incoherent syllables, vague mixtures of, “I didn’t really know either,” and “You’re choking me again –” before inhaling large batches of air to stop her head from spinning.

 

“You know each other?” Joy’s voice comes in between Seulgi’s hard slaps on her back.

 

“Yup – practically best friends,” Wendy hears Seulgi say as she wheezes out affirmations, a hand to her chest as she recovers from the crushing embrace.

 

“… So you must be the friend Seungwan was texting then,” Joohyun’s voice comes in like a speeding train, halting Wendy’s gasps for air completely as she looks up between a messy fringe and a stuttering heart. “I’m Joohyun. Her roommate,”

 

Seulgi’s eyes light up akin to the shimmering surface of clear water, brightening up not because of a lost love finally found, “Seulgi. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now,” she says with a gentle giggle, shaking Joohyun’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Wen’s charming roommate.”

 

Joohyun’s laughter is light and happy, reflecting the calmed storm in Wendy’s chest, “’Charming’?” She asks, baffled at the term, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

 

Wendy’s too busy being relieved (they don’t know each other – she was worried for nothing) to be embarrassed about Seulgi’s teasing and Joohyun’s playful glances.

 

The evening’s turning out to be fun once they’ve all settled down in their seats, Wendy sitting beside Joohyun with Seulgi just opposite of her. She grins at Joohyun’s and Seulgi’s blossoming friendship, their mischievous personalities coming to life like neon lights as they bounce back and forth between getting to know each other and poking at Wendy’s opinion of Joohyun.

 

Wendy’s surprised she’s not jealous of their immediate chemistry (she should be for how she conjured up images of them holding hands and the fear clasping at her mind like glue) but maybe it’s in the way Joohyun’s looking at Seulgi like how she looks at Joy that keeps her calm.

 

That, and how Joohyun reminds her that she’s there for her, lending her hand every time Wendy’s starting to tap at her watch, ushering her to count on her palm instead beneath the table.

 

Joohyun’s doing it again – making her feel more than she should.

 

But Wendy doesn’t listen to the rationale in her head, cradling Joohyun’s hand atop her lap, her finger comfortably counting her noises away (faster than any ‘clicks’ or ‘ticks’ could) and lets the warmth grow in her heart like sparklers of fireworks, scorching her into a ruin she knows she can’t get out of anymore.

 

Wendy resigns herself to Joohyun’s tender presence, knows how she’s stuck like gum in her hair.

 

And as Joohyun sends her a comforting smile, Wendy knows she doesn’t want to get out.

 

“I’m starving,” Joy says raising a hand and ushering a server to come by, “Anyone want chicken?” Wendy sees Joohyun stare at her, unimpressed. “… Other than Joohyun unnie?”

 

“I do!” Seulgi grins, childishly raising a hand.

 

Wendy laughs, joining in, raising her arm halfway, still feeling timid unlike the two bolder counterparts.

 

When a waitress comes by, passing each of them the menu, Wendy is flicking through the items one by one, looking for a particular dish that could settle the slight grumbles in her stomach.

 

She taps at a candidate, gesturing to Joohyun if she should get it, but falters at Joohyun’s startled look, as if she’s seen a ghost for how white – whiter than normal – her face is, the slight tinge of color Joohyun had fading from her expression akin to too much washing.

 

Wendy’s heart leaps at , gnawing at the walls for how the waitress sounds like she’s seeing a love once long lost.

 

“… Irene unnie…?”

 

Wendy assumes it’s Joohyun from the way Joohyun’s expression cracks completely, revealing a vulnerable face under the calm mask she normally wears every day, showing up between rosey-pink hues of dawn and streaks of clouded grey dusk.  

 

Joohyun’s voice is as tattered as her eyes, “… Yerim,” she breathes out like nails are scratching at , keeping it rasp and filled with a familiarity deeper than Wendy could count, too torn to be less than nothing and too hopeful to not be something.

 

Joy reigns them back in – or attempts to, listing off their orders and guessing Joohyun’s for how Joohyun won’t let her eyes leave the waitress, watching her as the server scribbles them down with ease of a practiced hand.

 

Wendy’s trying to bring Joohyun back, tapping her finger against her palm that’s suddenly cold beneath her touch. Joohyun doesn’t even glance at her.

 

“I’ll be back with your orders soon,” she says – Yerim, was it? As her eyes flicker back to Joohyun one more time, a ghost of a smile painting her lips before she’s turning around and disappearing at the back.

 

No one asks Joohyun what all that was about, Joy and Seulgi trying to dissuade the tense air growing thicker each second as Joohyun remains silent, staring blankly at a speck of dust on the beige-clothed table.

 

Wendy intertwines their fingers together, forgets that she shouldn’t be this touchy for how much it tempts her to kiss Joohyun, but it’s not desire clutching at , already far back into the depths of her heart as fear climbs up like a ghost in its stead – grabbing for life.

 

She tries not to let her voice sound as broken as the lyrics between each beat of her chest. “Hyun…”

 

Wendy remembers the first time she felt the same fear latch onto her like an iron grip.

 

“…I won’t be able to let you go if you’re going to be like this,”

 

Joohyun doesn’t move at her touch, her thumb drawing invisible circles across the back of her hand, urging her – begging her to wake up; to come back to her like she wasn’t already gone.

 

“… Don’t be like this to me, please…”

 

Wendy tries not to think about how Joohyun’s leaving her behind.

 

-

 

Seungwan somehow manages to convince Seulgi and Sooyoung to leave first, Irene hearing Sooyoung’s wistful “Goodbye unnie,” and Seulgi’s timid “Nice meeting you,” before they disappear in fading steps, the clacks of their heels sounding smaller and smaller with the distance they continue to make.

 

Irene chooses to wait for her, even when she doesn’t know when the girl gets off or gets her break. She asked Seungwan if she wanted to go home – that she could catch a ride with Sooyoung – but her roommate refused, adamant to not leave her behind.

 

Irene looks up when someone settles across from her, taking what was once Seulgi’s seat, Seungwan’s presence next to her calming the thrumming beats in her chest.

 

She tries not to wince at the sudden barrage of coffee kisses, vibrant red lipstick, and giant cheeky grins, the memories coming back with a vengeance as if she hadn’t thrown the key to the lock away.

 

Yerim still looks the same – how her wide eyes are still as bright as ever, a mischievous glint swirling amidst the pool of curiosity and innocence still painting her features, her signature copper-brown hair still as smooth as it looks (Irene wonders if it’s also as silky to the touch as she remembers), how her lips still quirk up a bit at the corners, a tiny indent too small to be a dimple but unique enough to still be Irene’s favorite part to kiss.

 

The silence isn’t unbearable.

 

Despite carrying the weight of unspoken words that are both too many to count, and too little to say, Irene doesn’t find it uncomfortable. Then again, maybe she’s too busy soaking in Yerim’s appearance (she’s here – she’s actually here), and can’t tell the difference between muted awkwardness and quiet longing.

 

There’s a lot of things Irene wants to say – things she wants to ask.

 

Things like: ‘How are you doing?’ ‘What’s new?’ ‘Where have you been?’ ‘Why did you leave me?’ ‘Do you think about me?’ – and everything else in between, from the moment Yerim said “I love you,” to the time she walked out the door.

 

But all Irene manages to say despite the croak in her voice, feels a bit too little, a bit lacking – and even a bit too much, all at the same time.

 

“… I was hoping that the next time I see you,” Irene starts, beginning where Joohyun ends. “… I wouldn’t be feeling like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

 

Her eyes never leave Yerim’s, watching how the girl’s breath hitches at her voice – at her confession.

 

The chuckles that leave Irene’s lips are defeated and resigned, “… I’m not there yet.” She says, watching Yerim swallow a lump in .

 

Irene wasn’t looking for her heart – she felt it was better to be without it; that she wouldn’t get hurt now that it was gone (haunting memories were easier to deal with – she knew she’d forget them eventually; forget how Yerim tasted like, sounded like, smelled like, looked like).

 

But Irene shouldn’t be surprised to find it still in the hands of someone she once considered home. 

 

-

 

AN:

… Yeah it’s not Seulgi.

Okay, before you all shoot me with shotguns and puncture me with pitchforks and knives (and anything remotely sharp) for the fact that it’s Yeri and she is still a minor (at the time of this update), let me explain.

1. I like Yerene. Romantically, even. So I will write them.
2. At best, mentions of Yeri and Irene’s moments together will be written vaguely, so nothing explicit will be shown or described, at all.
3. I really like Yerene.

… That’s it. Hope you all enjoyed this update.