Irene wakes up holding fragile beauty between her arms, Seungwan's breaths ghosting rose colors against her neck.

 

Her eyes struggle to open, squinting because of the window barring only half of the dusty orange-yellow streaks flitting between the blinds. Her hand reaches up to rub at her eyelids, groaning at the foggy haze in her head and the claws of sleep still hanging on to her limbs.

 

Irene wiggles the fingers attached to her other arm, buried snugly beneath Seungwan's head, her temple warm against Irene's skin.

 

She remembers having combed through Seungwan's hair, as if to ease the crinkles of pain off the edges of her brows even when the shorter girl had already fallen asleep.

 

Irene attempts to stretch out the kinks, remove the numbing tremor along her limb, before fitting her fingers through soft brown tresses again.

 

She vaguely wonders why she's even bothering (it wasn't like Seungwan was hurting again – she looked like peace), but Irene thinks it's okay; sometimes it's nice to wake up to someone running their fingers through her hair (it certainly was, with Yerim).

 

Irene stares at the way Seungwan breathes, watches how her lips are no longer pressed into a jutted line, crossed with a chain attempting to keep in clawing sobs just the night before.

 

She brushes Seungwan's fringe so it doesn't draw curtains over her eyes, curling brown strands behind a small ear with her free hand. Irene sees how the locks are longer, loose tresses spilling past the bridge of Seungwan's nose.

 

Irene wonders how Seungwan could look like she came out of a portrait beneath the pool of sunny yellow, how it colors her gold between the tiny gaps of the bedroom's window. The image makes Irene think of summer even when she knows there's still snow sticking to stay for one more month.

 

Irene's hand flinches away, yanking back as if scorched by Seungwan's movement. She suddenly doesn't know where to put her free hand (her other safely playing the part of a pillow, though now she has stopped flitting her fingers through brown locks), keenly aware it had been wrapped around her roommate's hips the night before.

 

Irene can feel the pink rise to settle heat just below her eyes at the memory.

 

"... Hyun?" Seungwan mumbles, rubbing the sleep away, her hair tousling against Irene's arm.

 

Irene's hand settles on her side, not willing to let it feel any inch of Seungwan's body. It felt normal to touch her when she had been crying; felt that it was okay to hold her close, remind her that she was there for her – but now that there were no tears painting her face, there was no need for more intimacy (more because here they were, seemingly comfortable waking up in bed together).

 

"Good morning," the words bleed easy between Irene's teeth, a stark contrast to how her eyes find it hard to look away from Seungwan's sleepy smile.

 

Seungwan's drowsy "'Morning," in return makes Irene wonder when she stopped looking at the way the sunlight draped topaz beauty across Seungwan's face and just started staring at the way strands of brown spilled over her brows – the curled locks Irene had clasped behind her ear setting free from Seungwan's attempts at clearing away the slumber haze.

 

Irene pretends she didn't just swallow a ball of nervous confusion (she shouldn't be like this – but it doesn't help when Seungwan's looking innocently serene that it coils suffocating cotton around ), ignoring the pink coloring the rim of her neck.

 

Seungwan's not bothering to release her arm, looking settled by the way she presses her cheek against her sleeve, as if to adjust for more comfort. Irene tries not to show she's getting shy (how her lips begin to purse, the heat flaring pools beneath her eyes); she should be used to it by now, considering she hasn't slept in her own room since that night Seungwan asked to be held for warmth.

 

Most times she's okay, not so flaringly flustered (Irene's so used to being meek that she's mastered looking deceptively indifferent instead), but during moments where gold tanned skin shimmers a portrait to life in the image of brown eyes attempting to hide behind long fringes and a timid smile so reflective of her own, Irene's stuck pretending she's not bothered and hoping Seungwan doesn't notice she stares.

 

"What time is it?" Seungwan asks, rubbing at her eyes even when Irene knows that dream clouds have already long gone.

 

Sometimes Irene wonders if Seungwan notices how the air shifts around them too.

 

It takes effort to look elsewhere (there's just something about Seungwan during mornings where sleep still fogs a part of her, coloring her ethereal), noting the clock on her nightstand – 10:13 AM.

 

Seungwan merely hums when Irene tells her the time, silence slipping between the meager gap that keeps their faces apart, managing to be a culmination of awkward comfort.

 

Irene attempts to mask the troubling air with light conversation.

 

"At this rate, I might have to use my room as storage instead." She laughs gently, pretending she doesn't see the way Seungwan's cheeks flush at the implication – it makes her ears go pink, too.

 

"W-Well, if you want to..." Seungwan's stuttered whisper doesn't help ease the heat crawling along Irene's neck as the shorter girl curls her hands against ; like the words weren't supposed to be out.

 

They haven't talked about their sleeping arrangement since their first night together. It hadn't seemed out of place and what was once an act of soothing comfort became habitual want (Irene admits she liked sleeping in Seungwan's room better than her own – she hadn't slept as well as she did now; maybe the window light was better here?). Their muted agreement of sharing the bed was said in the way Seungwan would make space for her and how Irene would pull the covers up to their chins.

 

Holding each other beneath blue blankets didn't seem out of the ordinary.

 

"Oh, um – maybe we'd save more money for a single bedroom instead." Irene says, as if to hush the awkward air, realizing seconds later of her mishap as Seungwan's cheeks flare fiery red that she could practically see the heat seeping off in smokes.

 

Seungwan's squeak makes Irene want to hide, "I-If you want to...?" she mutters under curtains of her fringe, her fingertips pressing nervous ticks against the edges of her lips.

 

Irene attempts to backtrack, recognizing the familiar intimate tension flickering between them.

 

"I-I was just kidding! I mean – I still need my room for – well, my clothes and school things..." Irene yelps with a barrage of reasonable excuses, her free hand pressing ebony against her face, as if strands of black could hide her embarrassment.

 

This was probably why they never talked about sleeping together.

 

Seungwan's shy smile looks too good beneath her bedroom's window light – Irene tries to get more of her onyx black to cover her eyes, too.

 

"... I know," she says simply, tapping a finger against Irene's pillow arm. Irene counts along in her head – one, two, three – "But we can still keep doing this, right?"

 

Irene sometimes wondered if she was intruding Seungwan's personal space; that it was supposed to be a one time thing – that Seungwan was too passive to say 'no'.

 

But as she settles her palm beneath Seungwan's tapping finger, watching the way her thoughts count against her skin, Irene realizes she finds comfort in her company, too.

 

"There's no reason not to," Irene quips playfully, the air surrounding them playing a lighter tune to their misty friendship. "Even if we're spending more for an extra room."

 

Seungwan joins in on the joke, her eyes twinkling with mirth, soft confidence bleeding out from sunlight lips.

 

"Who knows, maybe when we've practiced long enough, we could actually upgrade to a single bedroom instead."

 

Irene coughs out oxygen from the flush clogging – pressing air against her palm, her ears scorching of red heat. Seungwan attempts to dispel her blushing chokes with laughter so different from her timid smiles.

 

"You suggested it first – shouldn't I be the flustered one instead?" Seungwan chirps as she pats Irene's back with her once tapping hand. "You're so good to me..." She trails off absently, like she's still having a hard time believing it.

 

"Is that bad?" Irene croaks, her voice still muffled by her palm.

 

She's still attempting to cover the hues of pink and red coloring her skin, but it doesn't help when Seungwan's looking at her with eyes that used to be Yerim's.

 

"I told you didn't I? That I wouldn't let you go if you're going to be like this," Seungwan mutters, brushing away ebony to curl it behind Irene's ear. Irene hopes Seungwan can't feel the heat blazing along the flesh. "Isn't that bad?"

 

Irene attempts to ignore how Seungwan gradually shifts up along her pillow arm, the distance between their faces closing in. She wants to ask her why she's becoming a breath away – why she's filling up a gap that's supposed to be wedged with a friendship wall but suddenly it isn't there.

 

"Why would it be?" Irene mutters, feeling meek as Seungwan flits small fingers across her temple, brush away ebony that play as her shield.

 

"... You'd be the only noise I hear," she whispers, her voice cracking at the edges and spilling a past Irene doesn't know of. "What does it mean if I don't want to count thoughts of you away?"

 

Irene's not sure why it sounds so much like a confession when Seungwan looks like she wants to cry instead.

 

Seungwan’s fingers flit over the arches of her brow to the bridge of her nose, like she's painting a language Irene doesn't understand, confused of the air draping over them akin to the intimacy of mutual lovers.

 

Irene feels the words coil in , oxygen pausing just behind her closed teeth, as Seungwan draws a gentle thumb over the edge of her bottom lip, her touch feather light.

 

She wonders if Seungwan knows what she's doing (especially what she's doing to her), keeping hush under the silent melody of Seungwan's fingertips singing caresses across her cheek to her jaw.

 

"Making the noises go away lets me say I'm okay. But what if it means someone else has to say they're not?"

 

Irene attempts to read Seungwan's storybook journal behind a pair of broken brown. Her question sounds more like a plea, a desperate cry for a solution to a problem Irene doesn't understand.

 

"What if I count her away but not you?" Irene feels her heart stutter at her whisper, watching as Seungwan's free hand resting between their lips slithers to grab hold of her maroon sweater, her fingers brushing warmth through the material and onto her stomach. "...What would that mean?"

 

Irene can feel Seungwan's finger tap against her skin, her sweater a poor barrier against turmoil heat.

 

One, two, three.

 

"N-Nevermind, forget I said anything." Seungwan squeaks, taking back her momentary lapse of judgment like it was a mistake, wrenching her confidence along with it.

 

Irene wants to ask – pursue further because she can tell someone's name is dancing along the curves of Seungwan's lips from the way she bites on it like it'll help stall the words, as if she's afraid of saying it.

 

She wonders if it's Seulgi.

 

"It apparently made me someone not worth loving as much anymore."

 

"Okay," Irene says instead, taking note of the desperation lining along brown eyes.

 

The silence creeps in as Seungwan retracts her hand from her jawline, curling fingers against maroon right next to her tapping hand, feeling Seungwan's warmth swirl against Irene's stomach. It's automatic when Irene pulls her in, her fingers pressing protection against the small of Seungwan's back as Seungwan curls into her – like she's both hiding away and embarrassed for the slivers of her diary words that spilled between her teeth.

 

Irene still doesn't know what happened, but she's grateful to hear parts of Seungwan's puzzle heart. She was still missing pieces of a story to understand, but as she settles her chin against the crown of Seungwan's head, Irene knows she will eventually.

 

She can wait.

 

“Is that a giant teddy bear?” Irene mutters curiously against auburn hair, spotting a dusty white head of a stuffed animal littered between Seungwan’s hairdresser and the corner wall.

 

She sees it hiding beneath a pile of cardboard boxes – like it was stored away along with everything else that was left to gather specks of dirty white from the ticks of time.

 

Seungwan’s voice tickles the crook of her neck, “… Mhm,”

 

“You don’t like it?” Irene probes gently, not realizing she’s already massaging her fingers along the back of Seungwan’s head until she hears Seungwan’s satisfied hum. “It looks cute,” she finishes, eyeing the bear because it’s her distraction away from Seungwan (her hand is moving on it’s own – what is she doing?).

 

Her roommate rubs her nose against Irene’s skin, as if to find her comfort zone. Irene tries not to shiver under her feather touches, her swallow instinctive from Seungwan’s warm breath.

 

“It does, doesn’t it…?” Seungwan murmurs, her muffled voice tickling sensitive skin.

 

Irene waits to hear more, anticipating the story behind a dusty worn out teddy bear that looked like it wanted a hug (she pretends that she isn’t ticklish by her breathing). But as she watches the clock on Seungwan’s nightstand tick minutes by, Irene gathers the courage to peek at her roommate’s face.

 

She shifts back, bending her head to see closed eyes behind long brown fringes, her breaths steadied to a slumber. Seungwan must’ve still been tired. Of course. Irene thinks, She cried, after all.

 

Irene can’t help the smile cracking against the corners of her lips as she pulls the covers up, making sure Seungwan’s snuggled comfortably before allowing the curtains to draw over her eyes.

 

Irene lets her rest.

 

-

 

She pretended to fall asleep.

 

Wendy never noticed how Joohyun had butterflies for eyelids.

 

She makes sure to keep quiet, carefully slipping out of Joohyun’s guardian embrace, taking note how her warmth lingers along her skin even when she’s already out of bed and tucking her blanket up to Joohyun’s chin.

 

Her fingers have memorized the heat of Joohyun’s cheeks, the fuzzy softness of her brows, to the plump pink of her lips. Wendy remembers having drawn her muted diary heart along the contours of Joohyun’s face.

 

She hadn’t meant to be so emotionally open, but maybe it was because she wasn’t ready to think about the noises – wasn’t ready to think about her, that Wendy wanted to distract herself by etching Joohyun’s skin along her own; mar her heat to scorch her permanently.

 

Wendy wanted Joohyun tattooed against her skin because Seulgi was already in her head.

 

She just didn’t remember it; still doesn’t. Not completely.

 

She curls loose strands over Joohyun’s ear again, smiling at the gentle heat and the fading hue of red still coloring its edges.

 

Wendy knew that Joohyun had been flustered – she was shy herself, but specks of courage filtered through and lined her limbs and words. She was grateful for the tiny boost of confidence again; it helped her tell more – give pieces of what made her scared (Joohyun hadn’t run away despite her broken explanations; it was relieving).

 

Her lips make their way to Joohyun’s soft cheek, pressing warmth against her skin, wanting to return the gentle comfort her roommate had given – and continues, to give her.

 

Wendy pulls back, her eyes automatically roaming to the forgotten teddy bear stashed away in the corner of her room, drawing blanks in her mind of how she had gotten it, where she had gotten it, and when. But despite seeing mere fog for the image of old, dusty yellow-white fur and a torn blue dress, Wendy knows it’s important.

 

She whips her gaze away when the beginning echoes of flashing pictures come to mind – afraid of how it makes the noises go so much louder.

 

It’s so, so loud.

 

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

 

Why was that in her voice? When did she say that?

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – three,

 

Her finger sings hasty notes on her watch, the familiar sound of ticking glass washing relief over the memory clouds in her head. Wendy bites her lip of the clawing image crawling behind her eyes, shutting them close. They don’t make sense – nothing makes sense.

 

Just think of Joohyun.

 

Wendy covers the bear with a box, shifting the cardboard fortress so she can’t see anything – can’t hear anything. It barely staves off the stormy memory frames that come back, rushing out of her room so she could play with the lock of the apartment door instead, hoping that it helps her heal.

 

Click. Click. Click – twelve,

 

She doesn’t leave the door until she makes it to 43, resorting to the sound of her wristwatch once she musters up the courage to let go of the lock. Wendy maintains the constant rhythm of her tapping, not willing to lose the momentum of erasing pain in her mind’s eye.

 

Just think of Joohyun.

 

"Oh, um – maybe we'd save more money for a single bedroom instead."

 

The smile comes instinctively, curving along her lips like a smooth brush. She’d like that, someday.

 

… She wants it, one day.

 

Once the noises become just about her; sweet, quiet, playful Joohyun – “Don’t apologize for being my priority” Joohyun, Wendy goes to prepare brunch.

 

But her hands reach for her cellphone lying precariously near Joohyun’s cold take-out instead, fingers dialing a number she’s so used to calling – so used to hearing the clicks of a familiar button sequence. Wendy doesn’t know what she’s doing, just that she is.

 

“Wen-Wen?”

 

Seulgi.

 

Wendy’s lips freeze up at her voice, unwilling to move from their icy nerves, her breath catching tangled strings of words clogged in (did she even know what to say?).

 

“Wen?”

 

She wants to speak up, let her know she hears her – that she’s listening. But her voice doesn’t want to come out, scratching desperately against the walls of fear lining her lips. She’s afraid.

 

“…Wendy?”

 

That’s right. Seulgi’s looking for Wendy – not Seungwan. She’s terrified of the fact that she isn’t who Seulgi’s been waiting for – been wishing for. Things would be easier if she was just Wendy. Why couldn’t she have just been Wendy?

 

“Maybe a mistake…?” She hears Seulgi mutter to herself and Wendy wants to correct it – tell her no, never.

 

It’s only when she hears the long drawl of a beep and not her lost voice that lets her know Seulgi had hung up. Wendy listens to the sound for a little longer, letting it sink in and cradle her ears so she knows that it could’ve still been Seulgi’s voice if she had just said something. Anything.

 

Wendy wants to call her again, hear how Seulgi doesn’t seem hurt – as if last night never happened, like she hadn’t just broken a happy heart. But was Seulgi really happy throughout all the times she was – still is, Seungwan?

 

She doesn’t want to think more than that, clicking away on her phone before listening to the rings again. Wendy could feel the ball of words begin to rise back up in , fear of rejection coiling around her lips like tattooed poison.

 

“Wen?” Seulgi’s curious call of her name only tightens the strings of jumbled syllables attempting to spill between her teeth.

 

Wendy tries to talk, swallowing terror so it could lay dormant just for a little longer.

 

“Seul…?” She murmurs into the receiver, hands gripping the phone between paling fists.

 

“Hey Wen-Wen, what’s up?” Seulgi quips back playfully, like last night didn’t open up closed locks behind an emotional heart – like they didn’t sing a song that had foggy memories sewn between the lines of each lyric together.

 

How could she miss the faint sad lilt under the edges of her voice when it sounded like it has always been there?

 

Stupid.

 

Wendy doesn’t like how it feels to know Seulgi’s pretending. She wonders if she’s been playing pretend the whole time they’ve known each other – as far as Wendy could remember, at least.

 

“… Why didn’t you tell me?” Wendy mutters, a mixture of understanding frustration and innocent desperation lacing weak lips, the tremor along vocalizing her confusion of noisy thoughts.

 

“That I love you?” Seulgi’s simple answer cradles the essential core of every noise she’s ever heard, “… I tell you whenever I get the chance to, remember?” She laughs lightly, like her voice isn’t crying of being forgotten and Wendy can feel that twisting pain of guilt even more.

 

She remembers.

 

Wendy remembers strumming strings, hearing Seulgi’s spontaneous love confessions popping out of the blue along with sound excuses – “Can’t I show my appreciation?” and returning them simply because it is kind to appreciate.

 

… She remembers.

 

But then sometimes, misty images plague her mind, pictures of sitting in pairs of seats (was she on a plane?) and having Seulgi’s head resting against her shoulder being one of the many movie reels she’s seen behind curtained eyes. Wendy could hear her own voice in her ears, like a distant cloud – “So you won’t go anywhere and I can continue singing, okay?”

 

– Stop.

 

Wendy attempts to ignore how her ears begin to ring, shutting her eyes so the noises hurt less. Her finger immediately begins its ritual tapping against her wristwatch, pressing her phone harder against her ear.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – three,

 

“Even now?” She asks like she’s breathless, pretending she doesn’t see the way Seulgi intertwines their fingers behind hazy memories (but how does she know it’s not just a mere figment of her imagination?).

 

Wendy doesn’t know why she’s even asking. It feels like she’s daring Seulgi to be honest, and maybe that’s the point – she can’t keep pretending forever; it must be tiring.

 

“… I love you,”  Seulgi says, her words laced with a truth so overbearing it weighs against Wendy even when she’s heard it more times than she could count. “That won’t change over night.”

 

“But something did,” Wendy quips gently, listening to the way Seulgi’s breath hitches, attempting to ignore how she can hear the song – her song under cloudy pictures of Seulgi (as if it was meant for her). “We did. … Didn't we?" You kissed me.

 

Wendy still can’t wrap it around her head – can’t fathom how a melody she’s always heard between each beat of her heart at every sight of Joohyun was for Seulgi instead. It tears at her, like her ribcage is breaking open, her lungs squeezing life out between her lips at the mere thought of mistaking a love letter meant for someone else.

 

But was it really a mistake when Joohyun is all her heart could still sing about?

 

“Nothing has to change," Seulgi’s voice sounds like it’s being carried by a teetering foundation, how the ends of her tone slips bits of a decaying mask. “Don’t worry about it so much, Wen-Wen!” She reassures her – an attempt to change the topic, her chirp so bright that Wendy would’ve been convinced had it not been for the way Seulgi’s tone carries a song of a broken heart.

 

Seulgi’s always been the stronger one – the happier one.

 

Things would’ve been so much simpler if she could just be the girl Seulgi’s still waiting for.

 

Why can’t I just be Wendy…?

 

“But…” Wendy wants to reach out, help Seulgi heal, meld away the cracks in her voice – wipe away the silent tears she could hear trickling sad paintings along her face.

 

“Hey, you know what’ll help you and your cute little worried heart?” Seulgi probes on playfully, like she’s not breaking at the seams. “Come visit me. I’ll give you a discount on the cutest bears ever! You won’t regret it!”

 

Wendy remembers the yellowish-white blue dressed teddy bear hiding away under a pile of boxes in her room.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – twenty-seven,

 

“Aren’t they all cute, though?” Wendy giggles softly, keenly aware of how Seulgi still manages to make everything appear seamlessly better.

 

“… Then it’s a discount on everything!” Seulgi laughs, sounding so much more like the Seulgi, Wendy was familiar with. “You’re one lucky customer, miss.” She says, clucking her tongue as if to chide her.

 

“And I’m lucky to have you,” the words spill from her lips faster than the images that are still flashing in her head.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – thirty-three,

 

Seulgi’s familiar bright guffaw melts the fear from , but it comes crawling back in when she speaks again, hearing how Seulgi’s heart’s on her lips.

 

“Keep that up and I might just melt in my bear suit,” she jokes, making a point with her ‘tsk’ adding flavor to her effortless pretend.

 

Seulgi plays happiness like it’s the strings of a guitar – singing strength as if it were notes; pitched to perfection.

 

Wendy pretends she doesn’t notice it bleeding out into her ears, potently loud.  

 

“I’ll see you later then?” Wendy asks once she’s done playing her part of the clueless close friend, knowing Seulgi’s trying so hard to keep things exactly the way they are.

 

Wendy doesn’t know why she’s anticipating Seulgi’s signature “It’s a date then,” when they both know now how much one of them wishes it to be true.

 

“Yeah. Later, Wen-Wen!” Seulgi continues on with her seemingly gleeful chirp, a harsh contrast to how Wendy could practically hear her crack under glass emotions.  

 

When she hears the click and the familiar drawl of a beep, Wendy snaps her phone shut. Her hand is still settled atop her wrist, her finger unable to stop tapping away on her wristwatch.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – forty-three,

 

The noises have gotten louder.

 

Before her mind even gets to register it, her steps lead her to Joohyun's room, inhaling wafts of vanilla and lavender tinged with fabric softener. Wendy doesn't know why she's intruding on Joohyun's personal privacy as she crawls onto her bed, plucking a purple pillow off the headboard to cradle between jittery arms.

 

She surrounds herself with a fortress of soft cotton fluffy squares of varying violet (it doesn't take a lot to know now that purple really is Joohyun's favorite color) before pulling up thick blankets of the same shade to huddle beneath.

 

Her finger keeps its rhythmic tapping, her eyes squeezing shut from the pounding ringing stuck in her ears. Wendy wants it all to go away – just go away, and the only way she knows how to cope with it is pictures of Joohyun.

 

She considers going back to her room, snuggle beneath the covers into Joohyun's safe arms again, but the noises keep her immobile; legs rendered frozen under phantom hands of Seulgi's voice.

 

“It apparently made me someone not worth loving as much anymore.”

 

Her nose buries itself against soft purple, breathing in the scent stuck to Joohyun like caramel glue, vanilla and lavender and that lingering faint smell of fabric softener she's so used to sleeping to every night.

 

The erratic stutters that tremor her heart and ears are washed away with every inhale, as if breathing for air in wisps of Joohyun. Her lungs and thoughts fill up with her, praying that Joohyun's all she'll be able to hear.

 

“I don’t mind the sound of Seungwan.”

 

But she still hears Seulgi.

 

“Do you look at her with eyes like that, Wen?”

 

Wendy attempts to block everything else but the safety scent of Joohyun cradling her in the form of purple blankets and clusters of pillows. She doesn't know what to do anymore.

 

“Like what?”

 

Joohyun's all she sees, all she feels, all she smells, but Seulgi's the one she can't stop hearing – the one she can still taste.

 

“Like a love letter?”

 

Wendy's surrounded in scent fields of vanilla and lavender, with orange permanently tattooed on her lips.

 

-

 

Irene feels like her head's been trampled by hammers; her brain mere mush – the grogginess playing with the coils in her mind.

 

Her eyes scrunch open, the blurs of bright yellow and white walls greeting her again.

 

She stretches so the kinks don’t coil between the gears in her bones, a yawn escaping her lips.

 

Irene only realizes Seungwan's not beside her when she reaches over, grabbing soft sheets of cold blue. She blearily blinks sleep fog away, a croak scratching past .

 

"...Wan?"

 

When no answer comes, Irene attempts to pause the startled jump in her chest, her mind whirring back to the night before – a crying, torn, broken, Seungwan – but her body moves on automated gears.

 

Irene’s already jolting up, tripping on tangled knots of blue blankets, her arms flailing for the handle, her chest beating hard against her eardrums. Fear clasps her veins like a wound up toy, squeezing hard that her hands fail for the 10^th time to simply turn the knob.

 

Just open damn it –

 

“S-Seungwan!” Irene yells out, barraging through the door once the handle clicks open.

 

The living room is empty, and so is the kitchen. It's startlingly quiet that it causes the jitters in Irene's heart to go faster, not used to seeing Seungwan so absent.

 

Usually she'd be in the kitchen, a blue apron tied around her waist and hair up in a bun, the sweet scent of one of Seungwan's delicious meals wafting through the apartment.

 

"Seungwan?" Irene calls out again, peeking through the bathroom door, finding it just as empty.

 

She considers that maybe Seungwan went out; left to go do something for a bit, attempting to calm the rush in her chest. But when she passes by the takeout that Seungwan and Seulgi had gotten her last night, she spots Seungwan's cellphone left precariously beside the toaster.

 

Seungwan would never leave without her mobile, not when she was so acutely aware of safety being priority (Irene still remembers needing to adjust to the sound of Seungwan's habitual lock clicking before bed – that she still needed to reassure herself that it was really locked).

 

Irene knows she has one more room to check, pushing the door open to see a clustered lump lying comfortably beneath her blankets.

 

Her heart immediately calms at the sight of her purple pillows playing as a fortress surrounding Seungwan as she sleeps, the nerves in her fingers slowing to steady as she tiptoes around her messy stacks of textbooks and notebooks.

 

Irene crouches down so she's eye level with Seungwan's slumbering face, a smile cracking across her lips as Seungwan nuzzles into her favorite purple pillow.

 

"We're not quite ready for a single bedroom yet, huh." Irene mutters gently, pulling the covers up until it reaches Seungwan's cheek. "Was I too clingy, Wan?" She chuckles quietly, before standing up to let her roommate sleep some more.

 

Irene still feels relief bleeding through her skin, a sigh escaping once worried lips at finding Seungwan safely tucked beneath her blankets and not somewhere else (wandering off where Irene can't find her).

 

She considers that maybe she was a bit too worried, walking back into Seungwan's room to fold the sheets back and clean up. Irene wonders if it was odd to be startled into a panic, remembering how her fingers had stumbled on the knob, like she forgot how to turn it properly.

 

It was normal, wasn't it? Irene thinks, placing Seungwan's blue pillow near the headboard, stacking the others into a pile. Because if I hadn't, it'd mean I didn't care. Right?

 

The gears in her head continue to spin away, drawing glossy images over her eyes that Irene doesn't notice she's already finished making the bed until she folds the blanket for the umpteenth time; a large fluffy square no longer able to get any smaller.

 

She pats it down along with the pillows, making sure it all looks good and new (Irene's sort of embarrassed at the stark contrast to her own bedroom, now that Seungwan's currently asleep in there – she's just been preoccupied with exams).

 

Her eyes gaze over the rest of the room for anything else to clean, before remembering the picture of a worn out teddy bear and spotting only a pile of cardboard boxes left in its place. Did Seungwan put it somewhere else?

 

Irene edges towards the corner, putting back fallen items into their respective boxes (she notes picture frames – a family portrait and one with just Seulgi) until she sees a stuffed arm peeking out between the spaces of cardboard.

 

She lifts the boxes so it doesn't hide the bear away, curiosity ebbing in her head of fluffy dusty yellow-white, the toy managing to look like it had been loved too much yet not enough.

 

Her fingers caress over the broken seams along its fading blue dress, the frills at the edges torn as if ripped apart. As much as it was worn out, the stuffed toy still looked crisp enough to keep; it was just lacking proper management.

 

Irene wonders why – how Seungwan could seem to dismiss a toy to leave it uncared for, yet still hold on just enough behind boxes like it still mattered.

 

... Or maybe she was just thinking too hard.

 

She ruffles her hair, frustration leaking out between her lips at how her mind always goes further than the initial question.

 

It's just a stuffed animal that hasn't been washed for a long time, Irene thinks, bitter at herself for taking so much of her own time pondering on things that had nothing to do with her. Maybe it's just a toy Seungwan grew out of, she considers then, the thought much more befitting than the previous – more complicated counterpart.

 

She blanches at the stuffy dust sticking to her fingers, puffy white clear against her pale skin. This bear needs a good thorough wash.

 

Irene makes it a plan to do so when she hides the toy away, carefully placing the box over its large fluffy head. She squeezes its bear hand despite the specks of grime, smiling gently at circle beads it has for eyes.

 

"You'll be as good as new. And definitely smell better, too." Irene says playfully, laughing to herself at how she still talks to toys like they're alive; she can't really help it (she had a stuffed bunny before but she left it at her parents' house).

 

Tucking the bear carefully between boxes, Irene heads for the bathroom to wash off the dust, her mind making up plans of how to make a bear that had been loved once, be loved again.

 

-

 

Irene clucks her tongue at the email she's just received. Looks like she'll be presenting a small talk on biofuels next week – the kids will probably fall asleep again.

 

It has only been 9 minutes since she's stepped out of the apartment, Seungwan still fast asleep on her bed. Irene was craving coffee, so her body had merely motioned on its own, her arms looping through her jacket sleeves before clicking the door's lock to a close.

 

Her sigh is tired as she shoves her phone back into her pocket, her fingers bumping against smooth plastic of her cigarette box.

 

"I was just checking to see if I still had the right number," Yerim's voice immediately cradles the image reel in her head.

 

Right. She'll need a smoke afterwards, too.

 

Her foot starts tapping along the wooden floor of the café she's so used to seeking refuge in, suddenly impatient for the bitter coffee to spill against her lips so she could taste Yerim somewhere in between (just like that darn candy). Irene takes a step forward when one customer leaves the till.

 

She never could find Yerim beneath it all, but she still couldn't stop trying.

 

"Here you go, ma'am." The cashier says, passing the customer in front, her drink, Irene's sigh of relief escaping chapped lips for finally being next to order.

 

She watches how the patron in an orange cardigan and black jeans barely grasps the cup between her fingers that Irene's hand shoots out of reflex to catch the falling drink. It fumbles between her fingers before it crashes against Irene's maroon sweater, hot heat burning into her skin and spilling waves across the floor.

 

Irene hisses at the burn, her hands falling victim to magma coffee as she shakes the heat off, flapping her sweater so the liquid doesn't tattoo more against her chest (she should've closed her jacket for added protection).

 

"I-I'm so, so sorry!" Irene winces at the shrill apology as the stranger pats napkins against her burning hands. "I-I was just feeling out of it and I didn't even notice that..."

 

Irene's too busy taking napkins of her own to clear off the coffee from her sweater when the stranger calls her name; her voice oddly familiar.

 

"... Joohyun unnie?"

 

Irene looks up to see a messy bun on a face she's seen just the night before.

 

"Seulgi?"

 

She watches how the taller girl's eyes curve into crescents at her name, a grin plastering her lips as she continues to help Irene dry up.

 

"Wow unnie. At first I thought you were cool, but you're really just dorky." Irene scowls at Seulgi's giggly laugh, "Trying to save my drink only to burn yourself – that's so quirky."

 

Irene huffs, indignant. "Thanks for reminding me of just how embarrassing that was." She says, balling up all the used napkins together. "And where's my 'thank you'?"

 

Seulgi's easy smile is lighthearted, her hand patting Irene's back as if to reassure her.

 

"Hey, at least I know now that you're not 2-dimensional. It's fun to be embarrassing." Irene watches Seulgi order again, requesting two coffees. "And there they go making my 'thank you'." The taller girl says with a soft laugh.

 

Irene scoffs again but the smile cracks easy against her lips.

 

Seulgi pays for the both of them, even when Irene attempts to shove her portion of the expenses down Seulgi's jean pocket. It manages to work until they're sitting down at a table by the window and Seulgi's hands aren't both preoccupied.

 

Irene shakes her head when Seulgi slides her money back across the silver surface.

 

"Come on, unnie. It's my 'thank you', remember?"

 

Irene nods, but doesn't make a move to take back what she gave.

 

"Yeah, but we both know a 'thank you' isn't really needed when I didn't even save the drink in the first place." Irene quips back lightly, sipping her coffee carefully. Hot.

 

Seulgi draws a pout across her lips, "Then why did you ask for one?" She whines and Irene is reminded of a child – a tall child.

 

Irene shrugs, a sly grin playing across .

 

"I wanted to hear it because of the effort I put in."

 

Seulgi's joyful guffaw is bright and charming, filled with childish glee that it sparks happy butterflies along Irene's stomach – treasuring the easy friendship they seem to share.

 

They talk about little things; how school is going, what classes they're taking, which restaurants had the best food, and where the best spots are to just walk around in. Seulgi mentions a park and Irene keeps note of its directions for future reference, eager to explore new sights.

 

Seulgi's ease of driving a conversation keeps Irene from remembering last night's fall out (if it were to be called that way – Irene's still not sure what happened) until Seulgi's giving her a nervous smile.

 

"Would you mind if we do this again sometime?" Her question falls on keen ears, Irene's lips still biting gently against the rim of her plastic cup. "I – um, it's just nice to have someone to talk to, and well, I don't really have anyone else except..." Seungwan, is what Irene finishes for her mutely. Seulgi shakes her head as if to jog the words out of . "A-Anyways, it's only if you don't mind, unnie!"

 

Irene watches how Seulgi's finger is tapping nervously against the side of her cup. The older woman shares a small smile in return, attempting to ease the timid jitters in Seulgi's eyes – remove the sad undertone she hears in her voice.

 

"Sure," she says simply, taking out her cellphone when Seulgi asks so the younger girl could save her number in it.

 

Seulgi grins as her thumbs dab at the keys, making Irene wonder why the happy face when a cute ringtone sings from Seulgi's orange cardigan pocket.

 

"There you go, unnie." She says, passing her phone back, her lips still engraved with glee.

 

Irene glances at the contact name; 'Seulbear :)' and it makes her blanch at the smiley face.

 

"It's cute isn't it?" Seulgi says, laughing as she fiddles with her own phone, "I'll save your name as 'Coffee Unnie'. Do you want a smiley face too?"

 

"Why not just Joohyun?"

 

"That's too boring – how about 'Spilled Coffee Unnie' –"

 

"Just 'Coffee Unnie' is fine." Irene retorts quickly, Seulgi's amused giggles a sign that she's heard.

 

Irene's almost done her drink, the cold bitter taste still present across her tongue as Seulgi motions to stand.

 

"I have to get going now, so see you around unnie. It was nice talking to you – get home safely!" Seulgi waves cheerily, her grin sparkling of white as Irene returns with a simple wave, registering 'home' with the image of soft brown eyes and long auburn fringe. "And don't change the name!"

 

Irene laughs as Seulgi flails her arms for emphasis, watching the younger girl exit the café and onto snowy cement. She drinks more of cold bitter coffee until there's nothing left, pretending she didn't just think about Seungwan when Yerim was supposed to be 'home' instead.

 

Her free hand searches for the cigarette box stuffed in her pocket, finding it's mere presence a working remedy to the thoughts in her head.

 

When Yerim's no longer behind her eyes, Irene sets down the empty cup and plucks her phone off from the table.

 

She flits through her contact list, scrolling down to see 'Seulbear :)' and wonders if she should listen. It wasn't like Seulgi would ever know she changed it, anyway.

 

The thought doesn't stay for long though as she goes through the rest of the list, spotting Seungwan's and Sooyoung's written in plain default of last and first name. It seems neater that way – more organized (as opposed to her own room but textbooks didn't occupy her cellphone) until she finds Yerim's.

 

'Yerim <3'

 

Irene wonders if she should change it; whether the truth still stuck there in the form of a weird heart that had taken time getting used to because all she used to see was a less than sign and a number 3 (Yerim had been adamant to keep it when she typed it in for the older girl – said it was for variety in a bland list). Irene still remembers Yerim exclaiming that it was a heart and that she wasn't a value less than 3.

 

Irene laughs at the playful memory and knows she can't change it – won't.

 

She stares at the clock just above the cashier's head; 11:03 AM, and thinks it's about time she heads home. Irene is reminded of a sleeping Seungwan curled between her pillows, huddled beneath her purple blankets; the image plagues her like a searing marker.

 

Irene scrolls back up until she finds Seungwan's name, spending several seconds on the thought going through her head and thinks it's not so bad. It fits; in fact, maybe even a bit too fitting.

 

Irene clicks the edit option, tapping on Seungwan's name and pressing the backspace button until it's blank.

 

She types in 'Home' instead and hits save.

 

-

 

Irene’s eager to get out of her coffee stained sweater, feeling it stick against her skin as she rotates the key wedged inside the knob.

 

She didn’t smoke today, finding thoughts of Seungwan as a healthier equivalent to puffing cigarettes. At least, for now.

 

Irene expects to see Seungwan either still in the room sleeping or going about her usual routine in the kitchen, smiling at how she’s so used to seeing such a domestic image.

 

But what she sees instead is Seungwan hiding cutely behind a fortress of fluffy squares and rectangles (Irene recognizes her favorite purple pillow choking between shaky arms), seemingly paralyzed to a corner on the couch, the remote lying precariously near the TV.

 

The picture has Irene reeling in her head.

 

“… What are you doing?” Irene asks, feeling both immensely relieved that it was nothing serious (or at least, it didn’t seem serious) yet completely confused as to why Seungwan looked like she wanted to run and cry at the same time.

 

Seungwan looks at her like she’s just found heaven’s door.

 

“J-Joohyun!” She squeaks, arms flailing as if to reach for her despite not motioning to leave her seat. “Just – just go get the remote, okay?”

 

Irene frowns, shutting the door to a close, her eyes gazing back to see the small device innocently sticking to the floor like gum in her hair. Why couldn’t Seungwan just get it herself? It wasn’t like the remote was that far, so –

 

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod –” Irene pauses her silly trek towards the device, frozen at the mantra pouring out of Seungwan’s mouth like a broken pipe. “Just. OHMYGOD.”

 

Her pulse rises in her chest, suddenly feeling as anxious as Seungwan (but she hears no sound; the TV is mute – what’s up with that?) until Irene’s jumping from a shattering shriek – her hands immediately shooting up to cover her ears, wanting to be amused at the sight of Seungwan diving into the covers of her pillow fortress if only she wasn’t so scared herself (Irene blames Seungwan – the girl could scream).

 

“TURNITOFFTURNITOFFTURNITOFF!” The words cascade out in discord, a screeching mess so jumbled that Irene stumbles from the impact of its sheer volume.

 

Irene’s more scared of Seungwan’s billowing outcries of horror than whatever was actually frightening the girl.

 

Keeping her ears covered, Irene bends down to pick up the device, inwardly groaning at Seungwan’s shrieks bouncing off the walls of their small apartment. For such a meek girl, Seungwan certainly knew how to belt out her notes.

 

Maybe she sings? It’d explain why –

 

Irene doesn’t get to finish her list of thoughts when something smacks right into the back of her head, soft enough that the impact barely does any damage due to its fluffy stuffing. She pauses briefly to see her poor purple pillow now lying beside the tiny remote.

 

Did Seungwan just –

 

“Please tie your hair up, Hyun!” Irene would’ve been shocked at the delirious command if she weren’t already startled by the fact that Seungwan had just thrown a pillow at her (and it was her precious purple pillow!).

 

“Excuse me?” She chokes out her surprise, not knowing how to react to Seungwan’s sudden lack of nervous limbs.

 

But Irene doesn’t get an answer when Seungwan’s screeching from her lungs again, shoving a pillow against her face to hide from whatever she’s seeing. Irene bothers to look up once she grasps the remote and her pillow, spotting a woman with long, long dark hair and one eye peeking between ebony strands.

 

The image startles her a bit, feeling quite thankful for the muted TV, but a more pressing thought protrudes the corners of her mind.

 

Seungwan basically said she looked like a horror movie character – “Please tie your hair up, Hyun!” – should she be offended? Just like Yerim…

 

“Did she come out of a well?” Irene asks curiously, remembering how Yerim had talked about ‘The Grudge’ (she has yet to see the movie – maybe this was it?).

 

“No, she – PLEASETURNITOFF!!”

 

Irene winces again, fearing for Seungwan’s vocal cords and does as she’s told, the TV going black. She hears Seungwan’s heavy sigh of relief, feeling amused as she stands to place the remote on the center table, passing the pillow back to her jittery roommate.

 

Seungwan gives her a grateful smile, “Thanks,” she says, before fiddling with the purple edges. “And sorry – for um, hitting you with it.”

 

Irene laughs Seungwan’s nerves away, “You surprised me with your good aim and belted notes. This is the loudest you’ve ever been,”

 

Seungwan looks embarrassed and Irene pats her on the back, reassuring her. It’s oddly charming to see how Seungwan’s still surrounded by a wall of pillows, wondering how long it took for her roommate to make such a fortress. The thought of Seungwan running back and forth for more square and rectangular defenses gets Irene’s lips to keep its smile.

 

“Anyways, you hungry? Share that take-out with me,” Irene says, pulling the pillows out of Seungwan’s way so the shorter girl could slip free.

 

They laugh about how Seungwan had gotten herself into that mess, watching how her roommate looks completely at ease in her presence in the comfort of their simple apartment. The atmosphere warms Irene’s chest more than hot coffee.

 

She’s home.

 

-

 

Irene figured she should get a hair cut (it was getting a little long) and so she did.

 

Seungwan had gone along with her, the two of them getting some layers (more so her than Seungwan) with her roommate rekindling her relationship with her signature fringe.

 

They had separated shortly after since Seungwan still had work, dropping her off at the music store before returning to the apartment. There was no assignment to be done and since Irene had been too bored to stay indoors, she was now back out to stroll around the snow covered streets; the weather too kind to pass up.

 

Irene lets her feet explore, her boots crunching sparkles of white as she flits by stores of the central shopping district, spotting Seungwan’s workplace just around the corner. She makes a note to visit her once she’s done checking the rest of the shops sprinkled about, loving how the yellow afternoon rays dust gold along the snow. Irene never got to appreciate it before.

 

The fascination doesn’t last long when she catches a giant furry brown thing from the corner of her eyes, looking up to see a bear mascot lingering by the entrance of a store.

 

Build-A-Bigger-Bear?

 

Irene feels her inner child begin to claw out, unable to hide the excitement she knows is oozing out from the way her lips tug into a growing grin, eyes widening at the rows of teddy bears along with assortments of attires for dress up.

 

She shoves her phone back into the crooks of her pocket (having just sent her reply to her professor), her steps leading her to the entrance of the store, glancing warily at the mascot looking disheveled with a crowd of children lingering at its feet. Irene feels bad as she watches tiny hands grab at its fur, clutching and shrieking with happiness as it dolled up a tinier version of itself.

 

Her eyes roam the store, feeling joy sweep along her chest at the variety of clothes and bears of differing colors and sizes. Irene maneuvers around parents with squealing children, couples with twin shirts, and rambunctious teenagers, to settle on a clean, crisp white teddy bear looking so much like Seungwan's worn out counterpart.

 

Irene scavenges for a blue dress, plucking the teddy bear along with her over to the clothing section. The soft material of the bear's head squishes childish glee along her cheek, her lips dancing happiness as she sorts through the pile of dresses. Her grin feels permanent when she spots a purple dress – Oooh so cute, but pauses when she sees a blue dress mirror Seungwan's. Just not as torn.

 

She raises the bear's arms, looping through the slots of the dress and pats it down, noting how the resemblance is uncanny. Someone had given this to Seungwan. Or maybe Seungwan had bought herself one long ago?

 

"Do you have a Wendy too?"

 

Irene jumps at the tiny voice, a hand to her chest as she stares at a little blonde girl tugging at her grey jacket. Where did this child come from?

 

"What?" She chokes out amidst her startled haze, attempting to ease the rushing thrum in her chest.

 

She wants to scold the girl for the shock she gave her (she’s not even good with kids – why is this child here?).

 

The tiny kid gestures to her bear, poking gently at its fluffy arm.

 

"You have a blue dressed teddy," she says like it was supposed to answer every question mark appearing in Irene's head, "You must have a Wendy. Does your Wendy like the sky too?" The girl asks, peering up at her with large brown eyes, her other hand still a fist around the side of her poor jacket.

 

Irene hums carefully, attempting to uncoil the tiny rock still latched onto her coat – what a grip.

 

"Maybe." She mutters absently, more worried about the fist glued against her attire. Was she suddenly a prisoner? "I haven't asked, but she reminds me of it, I guess?" Irene finishes, unsure, as her fingers wedge between grey and soft pale skin, peeling stiff tiny fingers until it coils around her hand instead.

 

Irene yelps in surprise when the child flits their fingers together, filling the spaces in between. Her head whips around for any sign of this girl's parents, not wanting to be labeled a child molester or some e because Irene was not the one planning to kidnap her. If anything, this girl was.

 

"... Did you need something?" Irene asks warily, lifting their intertwined hands to dangle it in the air, showcase the problem in case the kid doesn't get it.

 

She still has to call Seungwan about dinner – Irene wants to take her out for a nightly stroll, keep her mind off of things. Maybe they could hang out at the park; let the evening sky and dim streetlights ease the troubles off Seungwan’s eyes.

 

"You look like Bigger-Bear." The little girl says, shaking their hands together, her grip still tight around Irene's skin.

 

Irene arches a brow, "’Bigger-Bear’?"

 

The child nods, pointing towards the direction of the entrance.

 

"The giant teddy bear building other teddy bears,"

 

Irene peers over a woman's shoulder, spotting the bear mascot huddling over a pair of children as they tugged at its arms. She sees a tinier version of itself wedged between its large fluffy hands, pulling an orange t-shirt over its head.

 

"How?" She asks, curious of how a child's imagination runs behind innocent eyes. Was she telling her she was furry? Should she be offended?

 

The little girl tugs at her blue dressed teddy bear with her free hand, petting its head.

 

"You look like you can't stop thinking about your Wendy."

 

Irene's heart hitches to a stop, briefly dazed from the implication of her simple statement. She wants to probe – ask how, why; that’s not true, right? But the moment changes when something pats her shoulder, jolting Irene into alert.

 

Her hand is already hovering over the little girl, her arm a makeshift shield as she blocks the child from the stranger’s view, keeping her close behind her.

 

Irene finally looks up to see the towering giant only to feel her forehead get flicked by a sturdy slim finger.

 

“First Yeri, now a little kid? They keep getting younger with you, unnie.” She recognizes the overbearing confidence as she rubs at her wounded skin, scowling as Sooyoung kneels so she’s eye level with the child; her hair is cut shorter. “Now I have to wonder why you skipped me. Am I not young enough?”

 

“Don’t you have someone else you like?” Irene mutters as she massages fingers against her forehead, not quite processing the words she just said.

 

“So if I didn’t like anyone, you’d actually consider me?” Sooyoung’s Cheshire smile gets Irene’s skin crawling, knowing full well that she’d never let it go if she were to stumble now.

 

Irene doesn’t get to retort, quip back – in your dreams, when the child’s hand slithers her fingers to curl between hers again.

 

Sooyoung’s laughter is bright and amused, “Did you lure her in with an original ‘Wanna go see my fabric softener – I have lots of fabric softener’ unnie?”

 

Irene whacks her with a hand to the back of her head, chastising, not feeling the least bit guilty for Sooyoung’s yelped “Ow,” as she surveys the store for any sign of parents or guardian looking for a missing child.

 

“… She smells like my favorite fabric softener,” Irene’s head whips back to stare at the girl, watching her fiddle with the end of her white frilly dress. “… Does that count?”

 

Irene’s not sure how to feel about the fact that the child basically said she lured her in with fabric softener – she’s no criminal! What did she do wrong?

 

Sooyoung looks like she wants to spout nonsense again from the way her eyes twinkle with mischief – promising her of endless bouts of teasing when someone mercifully intercepts.

 

“Tae-Tae! Didn’t I tell you to stay clo –”

 

Irene finds herself staring at the bear mascot, briefly wondering how soft the fur feels like as the little girl – Tae-Tae? Lets go of her hand to wrap her arms around a fluffy brown leg.

 

“Beargi!”

 

“’Bear-Gi?’” Irene doesn’t understand why Sooyoung’s voice suddenly sounds like a squeak, looking oddly startled at the sight of a mascot.

 

“Oh, Joy! Coffee unnie!” The bear chirps, its feminine voice strikingly familiar that it takes a bit of time for the gears in Irene’s head to process who it is (even with the embarrassing nickname – did she have to use it?). “Welcome – is there a bear you two have in mind?”

 

“It apparently made me someone not worth loving as much anymore.”

 

It’s Seulgi.

 

Irene’s slightly surprised at how much contrast there is to her voice; how this afternoon chirp is so different to last night’s melancholic plead (even their morning coffee talk had Seulgi’s voice laced with a sad undertone). Then again, she’s not quite sure when Seulgi has on the safety of her costume’s head acting as a helmet for protection.

 

Vaguely aware, Irene can already hear Sooyoung’s inevitable line – “Yeah. You,” – but Sooyoung’s weak attempt at indifference makes her cringe instead.

 

“No. I’m window shopping,” her friend deadpans.

 

Seulgi’s laugh is lighthearted as she ushers the little girl towards the other side of the store.

 

“Well if you two need anything, I’ll just be over there, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Irene says simply, wondering when the word became her favorite to be said so often as of late.

 

She watches them pause near a row of accessories, a cluster of children beginning to surround Seulgi again. Irene never thought she’d be working as a bear mascot – she didn’t look the type to hide such a pretty face (she admits the girl has allure; there’s no reason to deny it). Maybe she likes kids?

 

“’Window shopping’?” Irene mocks gently, nudging Sooyoung with an elbow to her rib.

 

Sooyoung swats her arm away, “Yeah, yeah. So are you going to buy that plushy or what?” She retorts, poking at the blue dress of her white teddy bear.

 

Irene considers it, remembering the old worn out bear back in Seungwan’s room, specks of dust and yellow-white coloring the plushy, its faded blue dress torn at the edges. She stares at the crisp, clean, snowy white cradled in her arms – its blue a more solid hue.

 

Irene compares the pictures in her head, before removing the blue dress and returning both items to their respective aisles. Sooyoung follows her quietly, her footsteps mirroring her own as Irene steps out of the store, waving a quick goodbye to Seulgi when she catches her eye; an additional wave for the weird little girl, too (Irene scowls at the child’s nickname for her – “Bye fabric softener!”).

 

She won’t replace an old, worn out – but loved, toy for something new.

 

“Do you know a place that sells a sewing kit?” Irene asks as they peer through windows of the shopping district.

 

Sooyoung doesn’t question her as she points towards a small building, “You could try over there,”

 

Irene does, dragging Sooyoung along by the wrist even when she complains, “I have somewhere to go, places to be, people to see!” and Irene hushes her with, “Yeah and you chose me.”

 

Sooyoung’s whine doesn’t stop there, but Irene knows she doesn’t mean any of her complaints. For all the tough acts she puts on as a show for the world to see, Irene knows better; recognizing true joy bleeding off of Sooyoung from the way she wrenches Irene’s grip from her wrist so they could hold hands instead.

 

“Do you even know how to sew?” Sooyoung asks unabashedly, swinging their arms together like they’re kids and not young adults already.

 

Irene blanches at the realization, “… No.”

 

“I’ll pay for the ‘Sewing for Dummies’ then,”

 

She can’t argue with that, “… Okay.”

 

-

 

Wendy can feel her nerves tick away in her limbs, how her fingers refuse to stop from its tremors.

 

She’s on break now, knowing full well that it’s the perfect time to visit Seulgi. Their work schedules are fairly similar, their shifts purposely made so they could see each other every time. It also helps that they’re not far apart with a simple 2 minute walk.

 

But Wendy’s nervous. She feels like she’s shaking so much that people might think she’s forgotten to turn the temperature up in the store (it’s actually a bit too warm – the kids have even complained).

 

Her watch tells her she’s got 25 minutes left until her break is over. It bugs her how fast 5 minutes has already passed.

 

Grabbing her coat, Wendy slips on navy blue and waves at her coworker before breathing in cool winter air.

 

Her steps are slow, letting the snow absorb the footprints she makes against white sand so her lungs fill up with the calming cold. It helps flush the nervous heat cradling her skin, not minding the quiet trek so her head could clear of any thoughts.

 

It works until her feet pause by the doorway of Build-A-Bigger-Bear, seeing how Seulgi is helping a child dress up his brown toy bear.

 

Lots of things go through her mind, greetings she’s suddenly unsure of how to say: ‘Hey, what’s up?’ ‘How’re you?’ ‘Great weather today, huh?’ and everything else in between, from the way Seulgi tends to smile a certain way just for her to the way she holds her closer like it’s okay.

 

Wendy gets startled at a gentle pressure on her back, Seulgi’s bear hand guiding her into the warmth of the toy store, her signature grin curving along the edges of her lips (or so Wendy imagines at least, her mascot’s head still hiding the taller girl’s face).

 

“Are you trying to be a popsicle, Wen?” Seulgi laughs gently, her voice muffled by the bear’s head as she ushers her near the back of the shop. “I know it’s nice out but still. You could get sick, you know?”

 

Her words barely register in her head.

 

Wendy wants to see Seulgi’s face. Just hearing her voice doesn’t ease the nervous tremor still cradling her heart.

 

Wordlessly, her fingers reach up to curl under the mask, her skin grazing along Seulgi’s warm neck that the whole act feels just as familiar as the other times she’s done this (she remembers teasing Seulgi just last week).

 

Seulgi hurriedly clasps at her wrists, “Hey hey, didn’t I tell you the kids will get heartbroken?” Seulgi chuckles, hastily removing her hands so they’re by Wendy’s sides again.

 

“I-I have to, um, keep this on until my shift is over – don’t want to break the children’s hearts, so…”

 

Wendy blinks the memory haze away, recognizing Seulgi’s voice anywhere. Why did it seem so timid?

 

“So…” Seulgi starts slowly, gesturing towards an aisle filled with stuffed bears of varying sizes. “See anything you like?”

 

Wendy stares at the rows of toys, remembering her own old worn out teddy bear left to gather dust in the corner of her bedroom. She shuts her eyes when the noises begin to crawl back, playing with the tips of her earlobes that Wendy’s ticking them away against her watch again.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick – three,

 

“Aren’t you angry with me?” Wendy begins, ignoring Seulgi’s filler question, “That I forgot – that I still do.” She hears Seulgi’s breath hitch at her confession, a wry smile plaguing the corners of Wendy’s lips. “Why are you acting like everything’s okay?” She asks, looking up to see just a bear’s face.

 

She has an inkling feeling rising in her chest that having the mask stay on feels more like a convenient excuse than a logical reason (especially since they’re both on break).

 

Wendy only sees the way Seulgi shakes her head, how her shoulders rise up as if to shrug – like it wasn’t important.

 

“Oh Wen-Wen, there goes your cute little worried heart again.” Seulgi sighs as if exasperated, a smile curling at the end of her words. “Why would I ever be mad at –”

 

The playful lilt in Seulgi’s voice snaps a chord in Wendy’s head.

 

“Stop it!” She shouts, so thick with words just waiting to be said. Wendy barely registers the customers looking their way. “Just – just stop. Stop pretending like you're okay – like nothing’s changed...” She can’t tell if her plead makes it to Seulgi’s ears, not when the mascot’s head acts as a shield to cover her face. “Stop pretending like you didn't kiss me.”

 

Wendy’s never hated seeing Seulgi wear the costume as much as she does now.

 

The silence is unbearable, but Wendy finds comfort in knowing how her words sink in the air like caramel poison – sweetly detrimental. She wants to get rid of this false cloud surrounding them, circling them in fog of fake security.

 

Seulgi deserves better.

 

“… I'm sorry.” The taller girl says after the customers go back to their usual routine of flitting through merchandise. “I'm just… so used to pretending like we're just friends.” Wendy attempts to discern the haze in Seulgi’s voice, how it carries phony strength like there isn’t a tremor between each syllable. “I'm… I’m just so used to pretending like I'm not in love with you that at times, I wish it were true.”

 

The truth eases the coils tightened around Wendy’s chest, but it doesn’t make her breathing any easier.

 

“Seul…” Wendy wants to take the bear mask off – wipe away the tears she hears in Seulgi’s voice.

 

Seulgi’s croak betrays her false pillar of being okay; it makes Wendy wonder if the taller girl finds strength and comfort in knowing she can’t be seen. But she wants to see her.

 

“So can't I keep pretending? Just for a little longer – until I'm not anymore?”

 

Wendy wants to answer, but she realizes as Seulgi pats her on the shoulder that she doesn’t know what to say. What could she say?

 

“You better head back before your shift starts again, so be careful out there, okay?” Seulgi’s back to playing like there’s nothing wrong with them, ushering her gently through the aisle.

 

All Wendy manages to say is a weak “Okay,” before she watches Seulgi turn around, cater to another child stumbling towards her, a pink bear being shoved into her arms.

 

-

 

Wendy makes it home at 11 in the evening.

 

She makes sure to click the lock to a close for the 43^rd time, her hand slipping away from slick metal once she’s satisfied. Wendy hangs her navy blue coat back on the rack, images of Seulgi’s mascot face giving away nothing except the broken voice muffled behind it.

 

Her sigh is tired, spinning around once she’s done kicking off her boots so she could catch some much needed rest (and maybe wash away the sound of Seulgi in her ears – at least for tonight).

 

Wendy’s dragging exhausted feet towards the couch when she spots Joohyun keeled over the kitchen table, items and cloth scattered all over the surface. She sees what looks to be her yellow-white teddy bear sitting comfortably across Joohyun in another chair, its faded blue dress sprawled on the table the closer she gets.

 

Her eyes fall on an open book, flipping it over so she could read the cover.

 

‘Sewing for Dummies’.

 

Somehow the label makes Wendy want to cry instead of laugh, noting squiggly scribbles vandalizing around the silly title.

 

“’Don’t go stabbing yourself with a needle when you find out you can’t, okay unnie?’” Wendy recites out loud, soft enough that it won’t startle Joohyun awake, catching the name ‘Joy’ signed at the bottom. She reads the extended note; ‘PS: I can’t believe you skipped me when I’m just as young!’

 

Wendy has no idea what the girl’s referring to, but she can already hear the humor pounding against her ears, easily imagining Joy’s raucous laughter.

 

She takes a seat beside her, a smile already curling at the corners of her lips at the sight of a sleeping Joohyun; how her cheek is cushioned between her arms, layers of ebony cascaded over her brows.

 

Wendy spots the bandages wrapped around pale fingers, a needle lying just beside her limp left hand. She makes sure to take the sharp object back into its kit, far, far away from Joohyun before cradling her own head so she could mimic her roommate.

 

She’s aware of how creepy this must look to outsiders (Wendy figures she kind of is), but it doesn’t stop her when she knows no one else is looking except her. She’s thankful to be the only one who can.

 

Wendy could hear Joohyun’s soft breathing, how it hums against her sleeve, and somehow, its successive rhythm tempts her closer until she feels her breathe against her lips. Joohyun’s heart pumping in wisps of invisible life between her teeth cradles Wendy’s mind into quiet – the noises no longer present.

 

She wants to feel plump lips, but settles for kissing her cheek again instead, letting it linger so her soft skin mars the flesh of . Wendy can already smell vanilla and lavender – and that lingering hint of orange.

 

Her hands reach for the faded blue dress, seeing how the edges are no longer torn, its seams fixed by new knots sewn into its fabric. Joohyun sewed it.

 

She wants to ask why – why go through this trouble? – but keeps mum as she clutches for the old teddy bear, smelling wafts of fabric softener and even tinges of Joohyun’s vanilla and lavender glued to its fluffy fur. Even the dress smells like her.

 

Wendy loops the bear’s arms through its fixed blue dress, patting it down so she could look at it properly. No dust cradles the surface of its fur, her hand rubbing crisp clean white and specks of old yellow like its been carefully washed. And it has.

 

She wonders why it doesn’t hurt to look at the bear anymore, hugging it close, shutting her eyes, her nose burying deep into its soft fur. Wendy has a feeling it’s because it now carries wisps of Joohyun.  

 

Wendy turns her head so she’s watching her again, her mind whirring away to sketch the innocent image into her memory.

 

She takes her time memorizing each slope of Joohyun’s face, before her roommate’s cellphone lights up and someone’s name blares bright against the screen; the mobile placed on mute.

 

‘Yerim <3’.

 

The reminder is painfully loud against her ears even when it’s completely silent. Wendy swallows the truth as she finishes the little details left of Joohyun’s lashes behind her mind’s eye, the symbol of a heart next to Yeri’s name a burning torch across her hopeful thoughts.

 

“… You still love her, don’t you?” Wendy whispers into the quiet, listening to Joohyun’s silent breathing as her simple response.

 

Of course; Yeri’s still in the picture – especially now that they’ve found each other. What was she expecting?

 

As long as Joohyun’s happy.

 

She keeps hum after that, shutting her eyes against her bear’s soft head, the noises coming back in wisps of Seulgi’s broken voice, vanilla and lavender keeping the pain at bay.

 

Wendy falls into slumber in mixtures of Seulgi and Joohyun, missing how her roommate rises from her sleep, cradling a hand to the spot she had kissed on her cheek.

 

-

 

AN:

 

… This took longer to post than expected, but of course, it was because life happened. Here’s the fluff I’ve promised to you, or at least, what I could give considering their circumstances.

 

Thank you so much for reading and hope you all have enjoyed this update – until next time.