When Yerim speaks, her voice that same signature of soft velvet – smooth and tinkling of childish joy beneath a mask of early maturity, Irene remembers loving her.

 

“… How are you, unnie?”

 

Irene attempts to discern her simple question amidst memory clouds of them holding hands, whispering nonsense like when the next sleepover would be, or when they should stop pretending like they weren’t interested in each other – hugging longer than friends should, staring longer than two girls would.

 

She shrugs a little, “The usual,” her steady reply hides the quake in her heart, crossing her arms, feigning indifference. “… Smoking cigarettes,”

 

So I’d forget about you.

 

It bothers her how she immediately looks away once her words leave her lips, attempt to look at anywhere else but at Yerim because Irene’s afraid to see what’s being painted in pools of warm brown.

 

The disapproval bleeds out of Yerim’s voice, lovingly strict. “That’s not good, unnie.”

 

“Did you really expect anything different?” Irene scoffs, eyes swiveling dangerously back at the younger girl, bitter at the taste of affection lingering across her tongue at Yerim’s concern.

 

She could feel Yerim’s words seep through her, caressing skin and breaking her shield (that was more of a window than a barrier), playing with the strings of her lips, taunting her of the idea that Yerim cares – that she still cares about her.

 

“… No,” Yerim mutters, glancing down, her fingers clasping at a napkin, fiddling with the ends of the material. “You’ve always been stubborn.”

 

Irene watches the familiar habit of Yerim needing to twiddle with something to keep her nerves occupied; to keep herself relaxed – it’s oddly comforting. To see that something as mundane as a nervous tick helps Irene stay calm, knowing something hasn’t changed even when they did.

 

“… I’m glad you’re still stubborn,” Yerim murmurs, as if in afterthought – as if the familiarity keeps Yerim anchored too. Irene’s not sure how to feel about that; she’s not sure she was even meant to hear it.

 

Irene attempts to swallow the cluster of want in .

 

“What about you?” Irene asks, covering the broken croak with a cough behind a hand, “How are you…?”

 

Yerim’s small smile still takes Irene’s breath away. She knows by how her chest still stutters to a pause, wisps of life slipping past Irene’s lips for someone who still has her heart in her hands.

 

“… I’m okay. I’m working now,” the younger girl says, curling a stray strand of copper behind her ear. Irene wishes she had done it for her instead, “I’m getting by,”

 

Irene swallows so isn’t dry. “That’s good,”

 

It gets quiet.

 

Yerim’s still twiddling with the cloth on the table, Seungwan staying eerily mute beside her. The silence flits by as Irene holds herself tighter, pretend she’s not affected by Yerim’s presence – that she’s not broken. But she knows Yerim knows better – she always does.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch your name,” Yerim speaks again, her eyes settled on Seungwan. “I’m Yerim, but you can call me Yeri.” She says as she lifts a hand for a handshake, “Irene unnie here just doesn’t like calling me by my preferred name,” she attempts to make the atmosphere lighthearted, finishing off with a playful wink Irene’s way and Irene has to look elsewhere so her lungs won’t be squeezed of oxygen completely.

 

Her murmur comes out shy. “Only because you said you…” Irene wants to refute, say it’s because you like it when I’m the only one who can, but keeps shut. It’s not something one would mention in front of someone they just met anyway.

 

“It’s Wendy,” Seungwan replies with a smile of her own, Irene recognizing the lack of her usual stuttering, taking Yerim’s hand and giving a firm shake. “Just Wendy is fine.”

 

It doesn’t escape Irene that she doesn’t mention her other name.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Yerim says once they’ve settled their hands back to their usual routine of fiddling with the wristwatch and tablecloth. “How’d you two meet?” Yerim starts, her ease of making conversation falling in line once again.

 

Irene leans back, lets Seungwan take the lead because she needs to reign herself back in; sort out the gaggle of emotions filtering through her in streams. She’s happy, nervous, relieved, and anxious, all at the same time.

 

“We’re roommates,” Seungwan answers before Irene notices she’s tapping away on her wristwatch beneath the table. She’s thinking again.

 

It’s automatic when Irene uncurls her arms, offers Seungwan her hand, smiling instinctively at the soft feel of Seungwan’s finger touching her palm. Irene doesn’t realize she’s being watched until she looks back at Yerim, sees the younger girl attempt to hide her grimace with a weak grin.

 

“I’m jealous,” Irene finds herself hanging on to every word leaving Yerim’s lips despite knowing the double meaning beneath. She feels something akin to hope latch onto as the younger girl leans in, settles her hands so they interlace; as if interviewing them. “What’s it like?”

 

Yerim’s always been a smart girl, quick on her feet, highly intuitive. Irene knows when she’s being interrogated for information; knows when the girl is feeling jealous (Irene can see how Yerim’s jaw tenses). But she shouldn’t be. Not when she left me.

 

They need to stop dancing around the issue (Irene can’t bring herself to admit that she alone has been delaying the inevitable), to stop pretending like there’s nothing wrong; that there’s nothing wrong with this picture.

 

“W-Well, it’s like –” Seungwan begins, unsure, but cuts short when Irene intercepts, easing Seungwan’s stumble with a squeeze of her hand.

 

“It’s like having someone to remind you that it’s okay to feel like you have no home,” Irene says, manages to let her words spill without pause despite the stutters in her chest, “Because they’ll make you feel at home eventually.”

 

Seungwan’s fingers fill the spaces between hers, lacing their skins together, and Irene vaguely wonders if it’s okay to be thinking about her roommate (think about the way Seungwan settles the thrum in her chest, the noises in her head) when she’s still looking at Yerim.

 

“That’s cute, unnie. But you shouldn’t,” Yerim replies, frighteningly steady that Irene ponders if she’s the only one who still feels like there’s something left for them. “…You shouldn’t make someone your home.”

 

“Like how I made you mine?” Irene quips, quick with her words, her mind only processing each syllable once it’s already out of her lips.

 

She spots Yerim hold her breath from the way her chest lifts and Irene avoids her eyes, unable to bring herself to see broken pools of brown that she’s grown accustomed to seeing only in dreams.

 

Irene looks at Seungwan for peace, something she would’ve already felt from Yerim a long time ago.

 

“… Yeah,”

 

“Is that why you left me?”

 

“No,”

 

“Then why?”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Yerim waves a dismissive hand, seemingly indifferent, and it sparks a crippling ember into fire in Irene’s chest. “We’re over already, aren’t we?”

 

Irene doesn’t realize her hands have become fists until Seungwan’s drawing soothing circles across her skin, easing the tension off her muscles, allowing her fingers to uncurl so they’re no longer hurting Seungwan.

 

Her apology slips past her lips faster than her mind could process it, Irene’s whisper already flitting just next to Seungwan’s ear, her instinctive, Sorry, are you okay? filling the quiet amidst the tension building up between the three of them.

 

Irene doesn’t notice it until Yerim’s cutting words across the air, “Looks like you already got that part down, unnie.” It spills like poison, shredding off warm lines from their storybook that Irene still flips the pages to.

 

“Not as fast as you did a year ago,” she snaps back quickly, unable to control the blaze burning through her limbs, her nerves beginning to quake in anger Irene so desperately tried to keep silent.

 

Yerim scoffs, “So it’s true then?” she asks with tinges of fear Irene’s not accustomed to hearing, masked under cool indifference with the way Yerim’s jaw keeps tight. “She better not be a rebound,”

 

“Seungwan deserves someone who’s not broken,” Irene retorts, watches Yerim’s eyes flicker to her roommate, almost as if confused for a moment, but Irene pays no heed. “I’m not that person.” I’m not letting her get cut fixing me.

 

Yerim’s silence unnerves her because Irene’s not sure where the wounds will come next, where she’ll hit and if she could absorb any more of the impact. She catches Yerim scrutinize Seungwan a little longer, as if trying to decipher whatever’s behind similar brown eyes, so Irene pulls her closer, to shield Seungwan from Yerim’s sharp gaze so she’ll look at her instead.

 

“… My family’s my home.” Yerim speaks after the quiet settles and the tension falls into the background, tucking it away for later, switching lanes back to the core of why their story still has a jagged ending. “I’d rather disappoint myself than disappoint the ones who love me,”

 

Irene watches her stand, like the fight has left her so that responsibility and obligations can ebb away at her shoulders; press her down in expectations of what should make a normal family. Lesbians aren’t part of that equation.

 

Panic crawls into , attempting to close it up but Irene lets her worry slip, “If they love you, they wouldn’t let you be anyone else but yourself.”

 

“Tell that to parents who’ve disowned their kids,”

 

Irene winces at the comment, knows how much it’s true, grimacing at a memory of her father’s shouts, at nightmares (that were really just the past) of packing what she could into a worn down purple backpack.

 

Yerim had kept her company, played as a gentle solace as they looked for an apartment together, finding a place where Irene could stay and still be close to family and Yerim. The old apartment itself hadn’t been bad – it was just the roommate.

 

Irene knows 34^th street is just a few blocks away from it, unable to make distance from the people she still can’t help but love. “Don’t worry Joohyun unnie, I wouldn’t want you to move too far from me either,” Irene feels a growing smile at the memory of Sooyoung’s words, remembers the taller girl’s crushing hug as Irene signed the papers for her new apartment on 34^th street.

 

She watches Yerim adjust the bowtie around her collar, watches how copper hair circles her cheeks, frame her face – still steal Irene’s breath away, before she begins to stride back to work, attempt to pass Irene without so much as a wavering glance, smiling faintly at Seungwan beside her.

 

Irene grabs her wrist before she gets to, laces her fingers around thin bones so Yerim wouldn’t leave, as if afraid she’d disappear again – that maybe this would be the last time she’d ever see her (she knows this is silly because all she’d need to do was visit this restaurant again).

 

Her voice comes out as scratchy as the moment she saw Yerim again, “Then let me be –”

 

Let me be your home,

 

Irene’s ears ring as Yerim leans down, kissing the corner of her lips, hushes Irene completely with the way lingers even when she speaks. Yerim’s whisper thread Irene’s skin in silk, answering her as if she had read what Irene had in mind.

 

“… Then I’d never want to leave.” Yerim’s touch is akin to feather brushes, her words seeping warmth into Irene’s rigid spirit, “That’s more terrifying than pretending I’m just like everyone else.” Irene can feel her grip weaken, her fingers losing its hold from Yerim’s soft lips, frozen as her former lover etches lava across skin she used to kiss. “… and I’m scared of how much I love you.” Her quiet murmur ignites the strings wrapped around Irene’s throat, setting her words free – I still love you too, and it almost does until Yerim’s pulling away.

 

“Yeri, your break’s over!” Someone yells over the counter, Yerim’s immediate reply of “Coming!” breaking the tiny bubble acting as Irene’s window for her confession a year overdue.

 

Irene stands, tightens her hold, managing to have Yerim still, desperate for the girl to look at her. Yerim keeps from meeting her gaze, looking at anything else of interest and Irene swallows the nerves in , attempts to will away the pulsing relief rising in her chest at Yerim’s wordy version of a simple ‘I love you’.

 

“When do you get off? I’ll drive you home,” Irene almost winces at the hopeful lilt in her own voice, how it trickles out like rippling water, poignant desire for a past she still wants.

 

Irene holds her breath as she waits, oxygen filling her lungs once Yerim mutters 11 o’clock, before she unclasps Irene’s fingers with a gentle hand. She attempts to leave, but Irene holds onto it just a little longer, lets Yerim’s heat meld into her own before Yerim tugs so she lets go, a wistful smile pulling at her lips before she fades back into the kitchen.

 

When Seungwan brings her back from Yerim’s fleeting warmth in the form of tender tapping against her palm, Irene remembers there's still Seungwan; how she had just been present to watch every exchange – been present to hear every word.

 

"Um, sorry," Irene begins, suddenly shy for all the things that occurred over the span of a few minutes. "I, uh, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

 

Seungwan's smile is radiant even without the shimmer of pearly whites, rubbing circles over her skin, ripping away the tensions in Irene’s limbs.

 

"It's okay, I'm glad you talked it out." Seungwan says as she guides Irene back down to sit, "I guess we can't really eat anymore since we've paid already right?" Her laughter only manages to light up guilt in Irene’s chest despite her roommate's notion to ease the specks of drama lingering in the air.

 

"Oh, um, are you still hungry?" Irene attempts to raise a hand, call a server over, "I'll pay for you – I didn't mean to make you wait this long; do you want to go home?" She doesn't mean to ramble on; her words just spill through, feeling bad for making her roommate go through this with her, making her wait. How inconsiderate.

 

"I'm kidding, Hyun." Seungwan says, pulling back Irene's hand, "And I do, just..." Irene feels her brow rise at Seungwan's quiet murmur, leaning closer so she could hear better. "...Just as long as I get to go home with you."

 

Irene can feel her cheeks flare up even when she knows what Seungwan means; I'll wait for you. So she does what she does best, turning away so Seungwan can't see her blush, avoid the issue (was it even an issue?) so it doesn’t get any bigger.

 

The heat only rises up further when Seungwan giggles against her shoulder, muffled laughter worming its way through Irene’s jacket and into her skin. It doesn't help that Irene is suddenly keenly aware of their fingers still interlaced together, Seungwan's ritual tapping having stopped the moment Seungwan smiled at her.

 

Irene doesn't remember their fingers sliding to hide the spaces in between, doesn’t remember how it has gotten so natural that it just comes as easy as the air that enters her lungs. It’s sort of nice.

 

Even when she knows her heart is still several paces away from her, taking orders and sharing smiles with strangers that come and go, Irene doesn’t feel as empty knowing Seungwan’s laughter replaces memory aches for reddish hues on her face instead.

 

-

 

She’s beautiful.

 

It’s one of the thoughts that run constant through Wendy’s head as she watches Joohyun look at Yeri like how she imagined love would be. It’s in the way Joohyun’s lips twitch to smile, as if unsure whether she should show her former lover (it felt more like a waiting lover) how happy she is to see her.

 

Wendy allows the image to sink in, swallow her in depths of perfection personified. Joohyun is really beautiful.

 

“Got everything?” Joohyun’s voice is heavenly – it didn’t take long for Wendy to notice how she’s gotten softer, calmer, gentler, from the way her eyes follow Yeri like a moon, lighting her way with touches of affection lingering in wisps of tender hands curling Yeri’s checkered pattern scarf around the girl’s neck.

 

Wendy wants to look away at Joohyun’s growing smile aimed for someone who isn’t her. She doesn’t remember ever seeing this kind of smile – the one where Joohyun’s singing love songs in the form of steady gazes and warm words.

 

“Y-Yeah, thanks unnie.” Yeri’s stutter is equivalent to the broken rhythm in Wendy’s chest as Joohyun helps the younger girl slip her purple mittens on, watches how their hands brush together like they’re magnets, lingering longer than it should.

 

Her emotions are clustered inside a chamber with thorns for its walls, breaking it apart when it hits a corner and meshing strings of feelings together in ways that make Wendy equal parts angry, sad, and confused, all at once.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – three,

 

Just as soon as her finger starts to make numbers against her watch, Wendy feels warmth take her hand, envelope her in pictures of Joohyun with that smile that has her heart running away.

 

“Let’s go home,” Joohyun says, pulling her close so she’ll be right beside her.

 

This must be love, Wendy thinks, from the way Joohyun makes sure she doesn’t leave her behind, guiding her like a lighthouse, drawing a path for her to walk on where she’s not alone.

 

It gets a little troubling when they make it to the car, unsure of who sits at the passenger’s seat. Wendy assumes it’ll be for the girlfriend (ex?) and attempts to clutch the handle for the backseat when Yeri beats her to it, a tentative curve adorning her lips.

 

“Did you want to sit at the back instead?” Wendy’s flustered at Yeri’s question, not knowing what to do with her hands as she shakes her head, dismissing her inquiry with oversized blue mittens dangling at the tips of her fingers.

 

“O-Oh, no, I just – I thought…” … you’d sit with Joohyun,

 

“Hey, are you two okay over there?” Joohyun’s busy fiddling with the dashboard, her voice muffled by the walls of the interior, the open door playing as the only tunnel for sound.

 

“We’re good, unnie.”

 

Yeri’s already halfway into her seat when Wendy chooses to turn back around, pulling at the passenger’s handle, not quite sure what just happened. Did Yeri not want to be next to Joohyun?

 

Wendy lets the thought hide away behind a mass of other questions that she has no answer to, filling the nooks and cranny in her head, as they make it past swaying tree branches and raining snow; Yeri and Joohyun’s conversations remaining lighthearted (“Do you really have to smoke, unnie?” “Yes,”).

 

Relatively.

 

She jumps at the muted vibration, digging through her pocket before flicking her phone open.

 

(Hey wanna catch a movie tomorrow night? We haven’t hung out in a while and seeing you made it that much more obvious!)
Sender: Kang Seulgi
Received: 11:27:19 PM
Received: 12/17/15

 

Wendy grins at the message, thankful for the distraction, typing away a quick reply because she misses spending time with Seulgi too (she vaguely wonders if it’s because it’s no longer just her and Joohyun anymore, with Yeri seemingly back in the picture).

 

(Sure. Can we have dinner afterwards too?)
Sender: Son Seungwan Wendy
Received: 11:28:05 PM
Received: 12/17/15

 

It’s been awhile since she ate out with Seulgi (not counting their group date of course), and Wendy figures she should catch up with her friend; make time for others who are not Joohyun – though it prickles at her chest a little at the thought of not eating with her roommate. Should she invite Joohyun too?

 

When her phone signals again, Wendy clicks the envelope icon open as Yeri refreshes Joohyun’s memory of the streets to her house, Wendy’s laughter mingling with their childish banter (“Turn right over there,” “Here?” “No! That’s a creepy alleyway, unnie!” “Sounds about right.” “Unnie!”).

 

For all their history together, shrouded in fog of things Wendy doesn’t understand and doesn’t know much about (she’s not sure how many scars have yet to heal or how many words have been left unsaid), it still manages to feel warm. Despite the circumstance, it’s rather comfortable.

 

(Of course! I’ll let you know more tomorrow. It’s a date then. J)
Sender: Kang Seulgi
Received: 11:30:01 PM
Received: 12/17/15

 

Wendy chuckles at the smiley face, shrugging off Seulgi’s antics with a quick flip of her phone, shoving the device back into the crook of her pocket as Joohyun pulls up at a curb beside a little home, a cozy shade of brown and beige, yellow lights streaking along the edges of curtained windows.

 

She hears unclasping metal behind her, the seatbelt whizzing back against the leather chair as Yeri pushes the door open. Wendy catches her smile.

 

“Thanks unnie,” she says before giving Wendy a passing wave, a quiet murmur of “Nice meeting you,” leaving her lips until she spins on her heel to head towards her doorstep.

 

The car doesn’t motion to exit until Yeri sends them one more goodbye before disappearing behind a closing door, Wendy raising a hesitant hand to return it as Joohyun presses the gas and they’re back on the road again.

 

She tries to see if Joohyun’s okay (tries to make sure her roommate’s brevity of calm is exactly that), flitting side glances every two minutes, keeping discreet with her overhanging fringe as mobile walls to stave off scrutiny.

 

Joohyun doesn’t seem affected – doesn’t seem broken.

 

She doesn’t look shattered into pieces left strewn about on a marble floor – not like the heroines Wendy thought would be in books about a fading lover. But maybe it’s because there’s still hope with Yeri and Wendy’s terrified of how much she wants to rip the wings off of happiness that’s latching onto Joohyun’s back in the form of relaxed shoulders and a wistful smile.

 

Wendy curls against the window, brings her arms around herself so she can’t reach out and clip off colors of laughter from Joohyun’s lips, can’t wrench away a dream her roommate’s been chasing after for so long (not when it’s no longer just in her head anymore in footsteps of slumber).

 

If it’s bliss that’s bleeding out of her roommate’s mouth in a hum to a rhythm of a song that’s not about heartbreak (Wendy turns away from watching Joohyun’s finger tap along to a beat in her head), then it’s despair in all its claw-like glory, scathing along the chambers of Wendy’s heart to remind her that there’s a monster lurking between the crevices of her lyrics – darkening her chest’s pounding melody.

 

If Joohyun’s getting fixed, closing old wounds, then Wendy’s breaking open, cutting at the seams of injuries still healing (“Seungwan, come home,”). Joohyun’s getting better while she’s still stuck in a time loop of running away (“We miss you, Seungwan.”); and it’s never ending – like a frozen hour glass.

 

Wendy doesn’t like being lonely.

 

“It was her,” Joohyun says, ridding the smoke beginning to shield Wendy’s eyes of thoughts more obsidian than its usual clarity, “At the supermarket.”

 

“Oh?” Wendy tries to keep the growl from escaping her lips, knows she shouldn’t be feeling so bitter – so petulant. “So?”

 

If Joohyun noticed the scalding tone in her voice, how it cuts sharper – lacking the usual softness at the edges of each syllable, she doesn’t show it.

 

“I wanted to make sure, so I helped her put them on.” Wendy doesn’t understand what the taller woman is referring to until Joohyun gestures to her blue gloves. “The checkered scarf and purple mittens; they’re the same ones.”

 

Wendy almost scowls at the reminder – of how Joohyun had run off the instant she noticed something familiar from a past Wendy suddenly wanted to erase completely.

 

She squeezes her eyes shut once she registers the dagger of thoughts cutting away in her head, attempt to will away how her heart feels heavier, how it feels like it’s sinking deeper into a black hole and tearing away what makes her good.

 

Don’t think like this,

 

Wendy hums, her only form of acknowledgement, not trusting herself to speak, afraid that the only thing that will spill from her lips will be varying degrees of hurt and anger and frustration – everything that shouldn’t even be. Joohyun deserves better.

 

“Is it bad?” Joohyun’s question doesn’t fall on deaf ears, even when Wendy’s trying to stop the noises in her head – stop the monster rising in her chest. “That even when I know why she left me, I still can’t forgive her for it?”

 

Wendy looks up, startled at the way Joohyun’s voice cracks even when her words don’t – betraying all the signs of quiet strength the taller woman had, revealing them for what they really are.

 

“… Is it bad that I still want her?” Joohyun asks, like she’s afraid of the answer from the way her finger continues its tapping on the wheel, the image now looking more like jittery nerves than a rhythm to a song.

 

She mistook Joohyun’s muted understanding for blissful happiness instead.

 

Wendy wonders – as Joohyun keeps her eyes on the road, seemingly unperturbed of her silence, like she was expecting it and had merely wanted to let her know of how she felt – if it’s bad that she feels relieved instead of sympathetic for Joohyun’s plight.

 

How the anger and frustration and hurt is suddenly quelled by the frailty of Joohyun’s heart – drenching the fire of despair in her own by the sound of broken love in Joohyun’s.

 

Wendy curls her fingers against her sleeves, nails digging deeper so it’d make indents against her skin. She punishes herself; she shouldn’t be thinking like this – shouldn’t be feeling so happy about the sadness she hears in Joohyun’s voice. She shouldn’t be content to hear Joohyun’s still broken.

 

You monster,

 

She reaches out, grasps Joohyun’s free hand and smiles at the way her roommate instinctively curls their fingers together, holding onto her like she was Joohyun’s life support. Wendy’s scared of how it makes her smile, how being Joohyun’s pillar of strength makes her overwhelmingly giddy. How disgusting,

 

She attempts to scold herself in her head, Don’t think like this – stop it, but it still falls short, the kinder half of her heart getting swallowed up in swirls of selfish desire clutching for life and control. It terrifies her.

 

The whirring engine of Joohyun’s car play as background noise to their silence; Joohyun’s hand drawing heat against her skin. Wendy likes this.

 

In the back of her mind, Wendy wonders if it’s bad to be a monster.

 

-

 

“Goodnight,” she says, a gentle smile curving across her lips as Joohyun returns it with a curl of her own, a small tilt on the corners of .

 

Wendy watches her roommate disappear behind her bedroom door before she spins on her heel to enter her own, turning the dial so it locks – 43 times. Once the final click settles the itchy habit thrumming her veins, Wendy gets ready for bed.

 

She doesn’t like what she has become; doesn’t like how this feral want for Joohyun has torn away whatever compassion she had that made her who she was. As a friend, shouldn’t she be comforting Joohyun? Shouldn’t she be just as sad as her – share her hurt and relinquish the pain from pools of broken brown?

 

Shouldn’t she not be happy that Joohyun’s aching for a love that’s close enough to touch but still too far to really have?

 

Her feet take her to stand in front of her mirror, recognizes the blue roommate sweater (couple shirt) adorning her figure, long enough for the bottom edges to dangle over her thighs. But even when Wendy knows she should be staring at herself, she doesn’t see her reflection – doesn’t see the kindness that Wendy knows should be there.

 

She turns away, crouches down – shutting her eyes and covering her ears as if it’ll help make the monster in her mirror go away. Go away. Go away. Go away!

 

Her fingers tremor for her watch, immediately tapping away.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – three,

 

Wendy jumps at the sound of breaking glass, crack, puncturing through her walls and bedroom door like a spear through her heart – forcing it to a pause; silencing the noises in her head.

 

She waits with a breath still stuck between the nerves in , briefly wonders if she had misheard until the sound comes back louder – mixtures of crushing glass and Joohyun’s broken screams of anger makes Wendy stagger to a stand, stumbling to unlock the door to her bedroom because Joohyun is in pain and she could feel her bleed.

 

Wendy rushes across the living room, tripping on strings of fear and worry for Joohyun, the panic only rising faster when she makes it to her door, shaking the knob just to find it still locked.

 

“Joohyun!” It scares her when all she hears are more sounds of crashing glass and Joohyun’s frustrated growls, “Joohyun! Open the door!”

 

The clinking of broken wood and metal and glass pauses completely, allowing Wendy to finally breathe – have a moment of reprieve from the terror clutching at her chest.

 

Joohyun’s labored breathing is the only sound Wendy could recognize. She hears how her huffs come out heavy – noticeably raspy, choked of air.

 

Wendy attempts to usher Joohyun out, terrified at the thought that her roommate may have deliberately hurt herself.

 

“Joohyun –”

 

“Sorry, I'll be quieter." Her words are steady but Wendy can hear how it shakes at the corners, barely masking the agony oozing out like blood from an open wound. "...So go to sleep okay?"

 

Her tired whisper manages to make it past the wooden door. What used to be relief for a torn Joohyun quickly becomes crushing guilt, rendering her limbs suddenly immobile at the weight of it all; having to need to rest her hands on the wall of her door, keep herself upright.

 

And to think Joohyun still looks out for her wellbeing.

 

Wendy tries not to let the tears reach her voice, "I'm sorry," for not being there for you – for being happy because you're not.

 

She hears Joohyun approach the door and Wendy momentarily thinks she'll open it for her until a sound akin to sliding material scratches the surface of the wall wedged between them. Wendy imagines Joohyun sitting with her back against the door, head lolled so the entrance plays as her headrest.

 

"... You're like a walking apology," Joohyun's chuckle comes out wistful, attempting to make the mood lighter. "You're always sorry for something even when you shouldn't be," Wendy shakes her head even when she knows Joohyun can't see, her hands curling into fists for the fact that there's still something keeping them apart. "What are you sorry for now, Wan?" It’s not accusatory – in fact, it sounds a mixture of curiosity and empathy.

 

Wendy almost lets it slip, For wanting you to hurt so I could be the one to fix you, but it sounds horrible and selfish even in her own head, so she settles for a different truth that still manages to carry the monster as a whole, instead.

 

“… For not being a good friend,”

 

Joohyun’s laugh a second later is filled with disbelief, as if the thought was absurd and Wendy wishes she could be proud of Joohyun’s positive impression of her. If only Joohyun knew how her mind worked the moment Yeri came back into the picture, then she wouldn’t be questioning her seemingly out-of-the-blue apology.

 

“You’re right,” Wendy almost chokes on a stuttered heart at the curt truth seeping from Joohyun’s lips. “You cook for me even when you don’t need to, keep me company even when you don’t have to – you’re more than I could ever ask for.” Her vision blurs as she slides down, lets her knees rest on the cold floor, her ear pressing against the door, unable to believe the white lies Joohyun is telling her (they can’t be the truth – she doesn’t deserve it). “… Sounds more like ‘perfect’, to me.”

 

And to think she wanted to chop off whatever happiness Joohyun had before. She’s a monster.

 

“Go sleep,” Joohyun says again, the cracks around the edges of her voice gone, masked by a false sense of strength through authority. “I’ll be okay,” Wendy hears slinking metal before she smells wafts of a lit cigarette filter through the edges of the door, “… Just not tonight.”

 

Wendy doesn’t have the heart to remind her that smoking isn’t allowed in the building (she’s sure Joohyun’s aware of it anyway), but it still doesn’t sit well with her how Joohyun’s smoking her life away, letting toxin etch off whatever time she has left. But how could she correct Joohyun when she’s doing it to take the pain away? Something that Wendy herself should’ve provided for her instead in the first place?

 

“I don’t hear you walking back to your room, Wan.” Joohyun speaks again, half lighthearted and half reprimanding. “Go sleep, or else I won’t join you.”

 

Wendy’s left sputtering syllables indiscernible, surprised at the sudden notion that Joohyun would be sharing her bed with her again. She had it as a plan (make her sleep and ease the black circles away), but she certainly didn’t tell Joohyun of it – and since when did her roommate even want to? Was it even want, or was Joohyun trying to tempt her into leaving her behind to wallow in her own pool of tears she has in acts of puffs from cigarettes?

 

“Don’t like sleeping with me, Wan?” The amusement doesn’t escape Wendy’s hearing, how Joohyun’s precious laughter clutches at the lobes of her ears.

 

For all the frightening discord lining Wendy’s limbs and thoughts in the form of selfish want – and dark, dark thoughts, it’s the first time she’s felt them settle into a quiet hum, no longer prickling at her heart at the sound of a sliver of true happiness circling the edges of Joohyun’s voice.

 

Wendy tries not to let a drop of hope spill from her lips. “… Just make sure you’ll be there soon, okay?” She’s proud for the lack of red coloring her cheeks (but at the same time it just means things aren’t quite the same at the moment) before rising to stand on tired feet.

 

She only receives a croaky, “Yeah,” as a reply before Wendy decides she’ll take Joohyun’s little white lie and pretend it’s the truth.

 

Wendy makes sure her door stays open (makes sure Joohyun knows she’s waiting for her), ignoring the aching itch to shut it to a lock, gripping her jittery fingers to still beside her as she snuggles into the covers of her bed, attempt to find warmth that was nothing compared to Joohyun’s arms.

 

It’s only when Wendy’s been watching the clock on her nightstand tick time away for another round of 60 seconds – an hour and 25 minutes, since she had heard Joohyun’s false promise (Wendy believes it’s false because here she still is; alone) – that she feels heat wrap around her waist, slithering of strong arms under her own, curling warmth at her back.

 

Wendy holds her breath as Joohyun’s voice mingles with the skin at her nape, her strands of brown hair acting as poor barriers to Joohyun’s hot lips trailing wisps for the syllables it makes.

 

“I didn’t mean to take so long,” Joohyun murmurs against her, Wendy feeling every word, her nerves jumping at every breath washing against the back of her neck.

 

Her fingers instinctively look for Joohyun’s, finding them nestled around her stomach, but instead of soft skin, Wendy feels cotton. She attempts to see in the dark, lifting it and finding outlines of a material wrapped tightly around Joohyun’s hands.

 

“… Remind me not to bother picking up broken picture frames next time,” Joohyun laughs, managing to sound equal parts sheepish and bitter at the same time.

 

Wendy almost turns around (forgets that Joohyun’s spooning her and that fact alone should be coloring her red), attempt to at least scold her for such carelessness until Joohyun’s holding her tighter, burying her face deeper into the smaller woman’s hair, breaths seeping hotter into Wendy’s skin.

 

“J-Joohyun –” She attempts to wriggle out so she could look at her, hold her too because –

 

“Don’t.” Joohyun cuts in, a hushed growl breaking free between gnashed teeth. “… Not when I’m like this.”

 

Wendy doesn’t understand what she means until she feels her skin absorb drops of pain Joohyun is determined to keep hidden from her, feels the taller woman’s tears make haven against the back of her neck, easing into the spaces between her bones.

 

She had only seen Joohyun cry once – the moment she had presented her the homebrew coffee. But this was entirely different, because she could feel her tears – feel them cradle her heart and swallow it into an abyss of grief that Wendy had wanted so much for Joohyun to sink and drown in.

 

You monster,

 

Wendy squeezes her eyes shut, feels water of guilt pool beneath her eyelids and leans back into Joohyun’s touch – hoping her presence eases the turmoil crashing through Joohyun. She doesn’t trust her voice, doesn’t trust herself to speak because she can’t make up for all the horrible things she had wished upon Joohyun.

 

She whispers apologies from every action she makes, grasping Joohyun’s hands, making sure she’s gentle so whatever cuts Joohyun has beneath crisp bandages don’t burn more than it already has.

 

Joohyun has scars for skin.

 

They don’t say anything after that.

 

It’s during this silence that Wendy notes how she doesn’t smell the stench of smoke, how it isn’t clinging onto Joohyun’s clothes or even in the puffs of life she breathes – lacking the signature phantom hands of a cigarette. In fact, she’d dare say it’s a mixture of mint and fabric softener, and Wendy wants to laugh at the irony of it all.

 

To think: quiet, calm, collected – broken, Joohyun went so far as to make sure she was clear of any lingering smoke (Wendy sees the faint color of pink of Joohyun’s roommate sweater covering half of Joohyun’s bandaged hand) in the form of clean clothes and fresh pearly whites, Wendy feels all the more regretful.

 

“I didn’t mean to take so long,”

 

So that was what she meant.

 

Wendy recognizes how Joohyun’s breath steadies to a constant rhythm 30 minutes after, and she’s relieved that her roommate could finally rest. Nestling back deeper so Joohyun’s warmth envelopes her completely, she attempts to slumber.

 

Wendy sleeps dreaming of alternate realities where Joohyun would finally forgive her and hopes she won’t wake up to one where she doesn’t.

 

-

 

Her fingers strum the final chord to a song she only remembers in her chest, transcribed between each beat of her heart, allowing the melody to drawl on until it fades beneath the echo of Joohyun’s footsteps.

 

Wendy had woken up to an empty bed, the sight startling her into a jolt of panic, automatically carrying her into the living room only to see Joohyun settled comfortably on the couch – casually folding laundry as she scowled at a drama on the television.

 

She hadn’t known how to approach her roommate then – was she supposed to act normal? Act like nothing happened? Or be more sentimental – give her a hug or something?

 

“The TV is over there, Wan.” Joohyun had said, amused, a smirk beginning to line a corner of her lips and Wendy had immediately looked away – flustered at getting caught. “Come here,” she continued on, patting the space beside her, before placing a set of clean clothes atop Wendy’s lap. “This show is terrible but at least we’re getting things done, right?”

 

Wendy had noted the small smile curving across Joohyun’s face, her eyes shimmering – all knowing; and Wendy knew then that whatever happened last night was done and over with; that it was time to move on – that Joohyun had made peace with herself.

 

Wendy had grinned back before taking the red hoodie on her lap and had begun to fold its sleeves together.

 

“Need a ride?” Joohyun calls over her shoulder, her arms up to tie her hair into a ponytail.

 

It turned out that she wasn’t the only one with plans for today. Joohyun had booked another outing with Joy – something about the other girl needing to vent out her frustrations about work.

 

“I’m apparently a wall that’s also a vortex,” Wendy had raised a brow at the odd description, Joohyun’s lighthearted laughter filling the crevices in her ears. “Sooyoung said that for a wall, I at least don’t bounce back her complaints – her fancy way of saying that I’m a good listener.” Joohyun had said, waving a dismissive hand before disappearing into the bathroom to shower.

 

“No, it’s okay,” Wendy says, padding towards the door to settle her guitar back in its stand as Joohyun adjusts the knot on her hair. “Seulgi is picking me up so we could go together.”

 

Joohyun hums, a thoughtful tune to let Wendy know she’s heard as she reaches for her coat, looping her arms through the sleeves of the grey material. Wendy idles close to her, automatically offering to help by how her fingers are already grasping at the buttons to fill them in their respective sockets.

 

Wendy doesn’t realize she’s playing a role that’s more than roommates – maybe even more than friends, until her hands bump into Joohyun’s fingers attempting to button the remaining few on top.

 

The heat that flushes warmth at their touch is equivalent to the one rising above Wendy’s neck, hovering just shy of her eyes, coloring her cheeks in savory hues of pink. She makes sure to avoid Joohyun’s gaze as she pulls away, taking back hands that still manage to both be calmly accustomed to feeling Joohyun’s skin and jittery in glee like a girl with a Valentine crush.

 

“Okay,” Joohyun says simply before wrapping a red scarf around her neck, “And what song were you playing? I didn’t catch the whole thing, but it sounded nice.” Wendy’s head spins back up, startled at the excitement suddenly fiddling with the strings in her chest as Joohyun pats down on the red material. “Will you play it again for me when we’re both home tonight?” She finishes with a disarming smile, slivers of white peeking between plump lips.

 

The word ‘home’ doesn’t slip past her as Wendy grins, unable to control the happiness suddenly coursing through her veins at the thought of Joohyun noticing the song that has been stuck in her heart the moment her noises became just about her roommate.

 

With a sudden burst of courage fueled by a melody growing louder in her chest, Wendy leans in, pressing a chaste kiss on the corner of Joohyun’s lips and forgets that there’s supposed to be a gap between them.

 

“Of course!” Wendy squeals, delight gushing out in rivers from how her voice raises an octave higher.

 

She doesn’t notice her mistake until Joohyun’s still frighteningly mute, eyes wide in surprise and confusion, agape. The initial high drops quickly as Wendy tries to remedy the growing awkwardness beginning to rise in its wake.

 

“U-Um, don’t forget your gloves!” Wendy squeaks, her nerves coming back with a vengeance in the form of stuttering lips and shaky legs as she shoves the items into Joohyun’s arms. “See you tonight! And stay safe!” She shrieks, practically forcing Joohyun out the door with unsteady palms at a rigid back.

 

She hears Joohyun yelp in surprise, sees her stumble into the hallway, hands flailing to keep herself upright against the wall opposite of them before Wendy slams the door shut.

 

Despite her poor hasty attempt to get rid of the problem before it got out of hand (Wendy admits that Joohyun, at that precious moment, had been a problem), Wendy’s still happy.

 

She should be regretful about the kiss – she really should be. But Wendy doesn’t want to take it back because as much as it was embarrassing, it had summed up her emotions better than words ever could (and it was friendly enough, she thinks – totally platonic).

 

Her forehead bumps gently against the door, letting it rest there as Wendy tries to quell the racing thrum in her chest – tries to quiet down the pounding rhythm of her heart in her ears. The song is playing even louder in her head and it makes Wendy want Joohyun to hear it already – the lyrics getting clearer across smoky hazes of a familiar melody.

 

Without a second thought (she tries not to dwell on the fact that she had just kissed Joohyun – kissed!) Wendy rushes towards her room for a pen and a piece of paper, quickly scribbling down the words that come to mind.

 

Even when she’s focused on etching the lyrics with permanent ink on a tiny blue sticky note, Wendy’s still keenly aware of Joohyun’s warm skin tattooed across her lips, pulsing happiness from lingering heat so it curves the corners upwards.

 

Out of all the smiles she’s had the past few months with Joohyun, Wendy likes this one the best.

 

-

 

Irene wonders if Seungwan’s okay.

 

It had been more than startling to feel plump flesh press softly against her skin, settle beneath her cheek for a split second before it disappeared. Then she remembers having to cradle her gloves between frozen arms before stumbling out of her own apartment on swaying feet.

 

She didn’t even have the time to turn around to complain – yell out her roommate’s name before the door had shut in her face.

 

Should she go back? Irene hadn’t bothered because she figured that maybe everything was merely a hallucination – that her mind had been playing tricks on her because last night had already been too much (pictures of Yerim and her had suddenly been too much to look at and she just wanted them to break – just break them all).

 

Irene wonders if it’s okay that she had found the pain of picking up broken glass pleasantly relieving (the cuts tore open anger into smaller pieces she could actually handle until there was nothing left).

 

“… nie,”

 

But what about Seungwan? Her behavior had changed – not that Irene minded the suddenly bolder counterpart, but it had been unnervingly quick that she didn’t have the time to even properly react. What if –

 

“… nie!”

 

– No, maybe Seungwan was just happy? Maybe the song she was playing had lifted whatever mood she was in and the kiss (Irene knows it was a kiss even if it was extremely quick) was just excess energy from a pretty tune?

 

Irene furrows her brows, crosses her arms – it sounds silly even when she repeats it over and over again in her head.

 

“Unnie!”

 

She jumps, startled at the sound of a pitchy screech, only to look up and see Sooyoung seething in her seat across from her; clearly upset.

 

Irene clears behind a hand, “… Y-Yes?”

 

Sooyoung’s frown has Irene fidgeting in her seat, twiddling with the spoon in her cup of coffee (that she knows she has yet to drink) to distract herself from Sooyoung’s undivided scrutiny.

 

“If I wanted to talk to a normal wall, I would’ve just stayed at home.” Sooyoung whines, huffing as she leans back in her chair. “But you’re more than a wall unnie,” Irene can’t help but roll her eyes, already aware of the familiar line Sooyoung always said when she was frustrated with her. “You’re a wall with a black hole for its heart.”

 

“Didn’t you say vortex last time?”

 

Sooyoung scoffs, but Irene notes the smirk growing at the corner of her lips.

 

“Yeah, but that sounded too much like a compliment.” Sooyoung quips, nonchalant as she twirls a stray strand of hair between her fingers. “So I changed it.”

 

Irene laughs before bringing her cup to her lips, blanching at the bitter cold of a forgotten drink.

 

“What were you even thinking about?” Sooyoung continues on, glancing at her own nails as if uninterested but Irene knows better. “… Yeri?”

 

Irene’s relieved she already has her coffee back down on the table or she would’ve dropped it from the sudden tremor cradling her fingers. She’s not surprised Sooyoung had noticed – she had known of their relationship (it wasn’t like Irene wanted to keep it secret anyway) but she was the friend that respected privacy (“As long as she’s good to you and you’re good to her, I don’t need to know anything else.”)

 

Her silence sends Sooyoung the wrong message, but Irene doesn’t bother correcting it (because shouldn’t she be thinking about Yerim anyway? Not Seungwan?).

 

“Are you going back to her?”

 

It’s the question she’s been asking herself since the moment she found Yerim again.

 

Irene twiddles with the handle of her porcelain cup, listens to the sounds surrounding them: clacking heels and giggling laughter, shuffling plates and scribbling paper, and tinkling rings of the bell atop the café door. For all the chaos of sounds mashing against each other left and right – sounds that don’t necessarily fit together but they still manage to – it’s comforting.

 

“Maybe,” Irene whispers amidst the noises; it’s the closest she’s got to a word that fits how she really feels.

 

Sooyoung hums, understanding from the way she doesn’t probe any further, merely content with twirling her hair, admiring her artwork on sets of teal green nails.

 

“Don’t make me a ‘maybe’, Irene unnie.”

 

Irene almost manages to make the coffee spill if it hadn’t been for the sturdy table, wincing at the impact her knee made with the poor furniture. Her nerves give her away from how she coughs out nothing but the air she breathes – barely registering how Sooyoung greets Yerim with a simple wave of her hand.

 

“Y-Yerim?” Irene gasps out on threads of excitement and anxiety clogging , “Wha – What are you doing here?”

 

Sooyoung chooses this time to make her escape, rising from her seat and sending her a quick smile and a hasty salute that Irene could read as easily as the clock hands hanging atop the cashier’s head several meters away. “Good luck, unnie. Wouldn’t want to be you.”

 

“Heading to work now, so see you two later.” Sooyoung says before spinning around, giving one last wave to Yerim and striding out the double glass doors.

 

Irene wants to roll her eyes but then Yerim sits across from her and it chokes all the strength she has left. She avoids her gaze, attempting to distract herself from Yerim’s undivided attention by swallowing cold coffee – a critical mistake.

 

“Was it easy?” Irene mutters against her cup, lets her insecurities drown her as the taste of a bitter drink envelope her in a familiar scent that has always been just Yerim. “… Leaving me?”

 

Yerim looks like she wants to reach out, grasp her hand, but she only curls her fingers atop the table, mimic a position of confidence and authority that Irene knows she doesn’t really have – but she does on her.

 

“No, unnie.”

 

Irene scoffs, wondering how they could go back to being this tense; she thought it had all been solved the moment she saw her again (but here she is, voicing out things she had always been wondering about – dreaming nightmares about).

 

“Is it bad?” Irene asks, still murmuring into her cup even when it’s already empty. “That I hoped you missed me?”

 

“No,” Yerim says again, gives a little shrug, her voice oddly small – oddly timid. “Is it bad that I did and still do?” Her pitch rises an octave higher at the last syllable, as if unsure whether she could ask such a question.

 

Irene bites the edge of her cup, overwhelmed with the urge to lean over and kiss her; to taste the familiarity of a love she had been happy about – one she kept dreaming about (kept thinking about).

 

“I couldn’t sleep because of you.” Yerim says once Irene’s teeth had stopped gnawing on white porcelain, defeated by the way her eyes always go back to Yerim. “I wish you stopped loving me,”

 

Irene scoffs, initially thinking, Yeah, I did too, but here she is.

 

“How could I?” Irene croaks, brushing out strands of hair from her face, frustrated at the way Yerim can still make her feel. “When you were in everything I looked at?”  

 

Irene sort of wishes she stopped loving Yerim, too.

 

-

 

“I really really like Joy; she’s so happy!”

 

Wendy almost topples over a trashcan if not for Seulgi’s hasty grip on her elbow, guiding her out of the theater and steadying her back onto bumpy snowy surface of the sidewalk. She thanks her by holding on, pressing close as they squeeze through the moving crowd, finding comfort in Seulgi’s constant presence when everything else continues to change.

 

It takes time for Wendy to realize that Seulgi had meant the character from the movie they just watched and not Joohyun’s friend when she trudges on – gushes about her blue hair and upbeat personality (Wendy doesn’t have the heart to tell her that the character kind of has to, because, well – it’s in her name).

 

“So, where do we eat?” Seulgi asks once they’re free and not being squished into others molding foreign body heat.

 

Wendy lets go of Seulgi’s arm to have a better glance of her watch, 6:17 PM. Maybe Joohyun’s home already?

 

“Can we order take-out?” Wendy suggests, smiling nervously at Seulgi’s confused look. “Just in case Joohyun hasn’t eaten yet,”

 

She knows Joohyun had gone out with her friend, but she did also leave early, and thus, maybe she arrived home earlier? That maybe she didn’t have supper yet?

 

“Aw, how cute!” Seulgi’s squeal breaks images of Joohyun in her head as she feels strong fingers pinch her cheeks. “What a sweet roomie you are. I’m kind of jealous,” Wendy attempts to swat her hands away, shrieking weakly as Seulgi teeters her side to side, cooing at her. “Can’t you treat me that way even just a tiny bit like that too?”

 

Wendy finally manages to wriggle herself free, slapping off probing fingers and whines when Seulgi jumps back in laughter before she gets to throw a friendly fist as punishment.

 

“I think I’ve spoiled you too much already, Seul.” She retorts, rubbing at her face, hoping the various shades of pink and red (as well as the marks of Seulgi’s fingertips) fade from her cheeks.

 

“Not as much as Joohyun unnie,” Seulgi quips playfully, a teasing smile coloring her lips. “… Why don’t you call her ‘unnie’, anyway?”

 

Wendy remembers mentioning the same thing to Joohyun the first few weeks they started living together. She had probed Joohyun the same question, and the taller woman shrugged her shoulders.

 

“She said she was used to hearing me call her without it,” Wendy says, reciting the words Joohyun had told her a few months ago. “That it’d feel a little weird to change it now that we’ve gotten used to it.” Her fingers gloss over the modern hourglass tied to her wrist; taking note how Joohyun replaces it when she needs to count problems away. “So I don’t.”

 

Seulgi hums, a skip in her step. “Very cute,” She muses gently, kicking at a lump of snow and watching it puff off to the side as they turn a corner, their boots crunching against the cold cushion of shiny white. “You up for Vietnamese food?”

 

Wendy nods, laughing as Seulgi reaches for her hand and guides her along, swinging their arms together. She misses this – the playful company, how Seulgi manages to keep all her thoughts away, have her enjoy the present. Wendy wonders if Seulgi’s happy steps reflect a success with a certain lover (she knows the date with Joohyun’s friend Joy had been more of her just trying for the sake of trying; not actually interested in pursuing).

 

Wendy snuggles her nose against her blue scarf, “Um, what about your girlfriend? Are you two doing okay?” She asks, hesitation dripping from the way she tightens her hold on Seulgi, afraid that she’d run away.

 

“We’re doing pretty good, actually.” Seulgi says, tugging her closer as they cross the street. “Talking about all the things we like. The usual.”

 

Wendy grins at Seulgi’s beaming smile, wondering how it could sparkle as much as the flakes of blinking snow – how it could outshine the flickering gold of streetlights.

 

“So,” Seulgi starts as they enter the restaurant, switching gears back to the task at hand. “What do you think your roomie will like?”

 

They giggle over the possibilities, scrolling fingers across the menu and Wendy misses this tender feeling of camaraderie.

 

-

 

Wendy places the last remaining dishes out to dry, wiping her hands on a towel before going back to sit beside Seulgi on the couch, watch her fiddle with the strings of her guitar. Her wristwatch tells her it’s 8:03 PM, and even though it isn’t necessarily late in the evening (but it’s later than usual), Wendy can’t help but feel worried.

 

Joohyun hasn’t come back yet and her food is getting cold.

 

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Wendy begins, smoothing over her sweater, attempts to pretend Joohyun’s absence doesn’t affect her as much as it actually does. “What have you been up to? Since, well, I hadn’t been hanging out with you much.”

 

Seulgi makes a pouty face, “Glad you finally noticed,” she quips before running her fingers through a set of strings that don’t sound nice together. “Just bugging you, going to school, working as the best bear mascot ever – and repeat.”

 

Wendy laughs, taking her guitar back from Seulgi and her horrible mixtures of noises that were just that – noises.

 

“What about you, Wen? Besides, you know, overly admiring Joohyun unnie.” Seulgi asks, teasingly eyeing her with a brow that doesn’t know how to stop moving up and down.

 

Wendy slaps her shoulder, “Oh har har, very funny,” she retorts, attempting to chide her but falls short when a smile fills her lips instead. “Just getting bugged by you, going to school, working as the best part-time music teacher ever – and repeat.” She says, deliberately mimicking Seulgi’s words and grins impishly at her friend’s rolling eyes.

 

“How boring,” Seulgi says, slumping in her seat, staring at a blank white ceiling.

 

Wendy only shrugs, strumming a chord to the song in her head and lets her fingers pluck the strings of a familiar melody so the silence doesn’t stay. Recalling the lyrics she had written a few hours ago, Wendy attempts to fit them in between the spaces of each drawling chord.

 

“Take time, to realize…”

 

She barely makes it to the second chord when Seulgi jolts upright, banging the bottom of her guitar with her elbow and ruining what had been a great first attempt at the song she had only just learned the lyrics to.

 

Wendy wants to scold her but Seulgi’s suddenly looking at her with wide eyes and it cuts the words short in .

 

“H-How?” Wendy’s startled by her stutter, furrowing her brows at Seulgi’s frantic look. “How do you know that song?”

 

Wendy wonders if she’ll sound crazy, “Well, it just came to me. Like,” she begins to tap on the edge of her guitar, unsure of why she’s suddenly nervous. “Like I had always known…” tack, tack, tack – three, the wood goes, echoing softly, prickling the air at the looming quiet. “… Whenever I looked at Joohyun.”

 

It’s overwhelming how Seulgi’s so silent. Wendy’s not sure why it’s making her want to explain things that don’t have anything to do with her.

 

“You pointed it out, even.” Wendy continues, not understanding why she’s rambling on – why just won’t stop spilling things. “’Like a love letter’, right? I just – I guess that’s what this is,” tack, tack, tack – twelve, her finger won’t stop tapping; it’s not calming the sudden noise in her head – but her lips just keep going. “This song’s my love letter.”

 

Seulgi’s still frighteningly mute. Wendy hates how it reminds her of Joohyun; how Joohyun had been terrifyingly quiet and Wendy hadn’t known what to do.

 

Wendy wants the silence to stop, and suddenly it does.

 

“… For Joohyun unnie?” Seulgi rasps out, uncharacteristically husky that Wendy’s afraid at how unfamiliar her friend is being.

 

Wendy doesn’t know how to answer that – was it for Joohyun? She certainly managed to come up with it because of her, so technically it would be, wouldn’t it?

 

“Will you sing it for me?” Seulgi’s request throws her off balance, but Wendy considers it good practice. She had been trying to sing it, anyway (and Joohyun wants to hear it – all the more reason to).

 

Ignoring how Seulgi’s oddly interested in it (Wendy knows it has something to do with how Seulgi asked like it was a song she already knew), she strums the strings again, shutting her eyes, letting her thoughts clear out except for the pictures of Joohyun that are tattooed in her memory.

 

“But I can’t spell it out for you; no, it’s never gonna be that simple,” the words pour out like syrup, cradling her into a haze of soft dreams Wendy can’t help but get lost in, “No, I can’t spell it out for you…”

 

“If you just realize what I just realized,” Wendy’s eyes shoot open at Seulgi’s voice, filling in the lyrics that she knows she hasn’t shared with anyone. “Then we’d be perfect for each other and we’ll never find another,”

 

Tuning her voice so it could mesh together with Seulgi’s, Wendy harmonizes and briefly wonders how Seulgi knows the song in her heart.

 

“Just realize what I just realized; we’d never have to wonder if we missed out on each other now…”

 

When she threads her fingers through the final chord, lets the sound echo through the room until it fades behind the walls of the apartment, Wendy looks back up from muted strings to see tears print down Seulgi’s face.

 

Startled, Wendy immediately reaches out and rubs her thumb across soft skin, panicked at the way Seulgi’s gone back to being mute; her question of Seulgi’s knowledge of the song hiding back into the depths of her mind.

 

“W-Why are you crying, Seul?” Wendy asks, feeling frantic as she settles her guitar on the ground, her other hand still occupied with wiping away pain that she has yet to understand.

 

She has never had to deal with a sad Seulgi before; not when the taller girl had always been the brighter one – the stronger one. All she ever associated Seulgi with were smiles and laughter – a true personification of her favorite character from that family cartoon movie.

 

“Seul? Seul,” Wendy calls out, ignores how her words don’t seem to reach her until Seulgi’s suddenly moving and Wendy can see the minute specks of color in her eyes.

 

“… I can’t believe it,” Seulgi whispers, her breath leaving fleeting trails across her lips, making Wendy startled at how close they are. “… You remember your confession song,”

 

My confession song?

 

Wendy attempts to push her away, curling her hands against the taller girl’s shoulders.

 

“Seul, wha –”

 

Then she tastes orange, her words cut short by lips pressing warmth in hues of Seulgi’s touch – a mixture of gentle cotton and loyal protector. Wendy’s gasp spills between her teeth at Seulgi’s hands reaching out and cradling her hips, the tips of her friend’s fingers curling around sensitive skin.

 

Her stomach twists in familiarity when Seulgi traps her bottom lip between her own, decreasing the distance between them until Wendy feels her back hit the sofa and Seulgi’s towering over her. Seulgi’s filling her lungs with a confession that feels like it’s been waiting to be heard – been aching to be found.

 

“… It’s hard,” Seulgi mutters, Wendy feeling every syllable draw on when Seulgi pulls back just enough to let her breathe, “… Pretending she’s not you.” She finishes, keeping still above her, steadying herself on palms that have Wendy trapped between.

 

Wendy doesn’t know how she missed it – how she never noticed.

 

How she couldn’t read the way Seulgi holds her tight, not wanting to let go during sleepovers they used to have, how she holds her hand as they cross streets even when it’s empty of cars, and tells her ‘I love you’ even when they’re just being quiet together and there’s no particular reason to – going along with her silly excuse of just appreciating each other.

 

She should’ve noticed the moment Seulgi talked about her over the phone.

 

“The only difference is that she was in love with me and you're not."

 

… She should’ve noticed.

 

But despite all the memories Wendy tries to filter through, attempt to make sense out of the chaos she feels in her head of the things she does and doesn’t remember, she’s lying here thinking back on a kiss she just had with Seulgi and only remembers that it was Joohyun she was picturing.

 

-

 

AN:

 

… Yeah, the holy trinity love triangle is here – just not what you may have initially expected. So yes, I was saving Seulgi not for Irene but for Wendy.

 

I chose “Realize” by Colbie Caillat because:

1. It describes what Wendy feels for Joohyun (the song that’s been in her head).
2. It describes what Wendy felt for Seulgi (note Seulgi’s line of her ‘confession song’).
3. It describes the situation between Wendy and Seulgi (a past Wendy has clearly forgotten).
4. I was upset Taeng9cam didn’t air Seuldy’s duet of it; so I made them do it here.

 

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter; and happy new year.