Beyond Doubt

 

They titter and shift their heads, leaning towards each other in pairs to giggle. She feels her skin flushing red and hates herself, hates it so much. Because she means what she said.

 

They had been talking about what constituted a healthy relationship and if the first thing that comes into your head wasn't 'consent' then she doesn’t know what...are they that immature? She hates that these creatures can make her feel so stupid, can make her feel so doubtful when voicing her true opinion.

 

It's why she hardly does it; sometimes she thinks she'll burst from the repression of her beliefs, thinks she'll vomit them out like a broken dam, but then anxiety makes her gulp back the words. It makes her stomach churn with self-betrayal. But the fear of judgement, the instinctual self-preservation mixes with the acid and convinces her that yes. It's better not to speak out. And God, how she hates herself for believing her anxiety but it's impossible to stop it.

 

Stop it.

 

"Junghee?"

 

She registers the voice, muddled by the loud music pounding in her ears, but keeps walking in hope that the speaker will give up and leave her alone.

 

"Junghee! Geez, how loud is your music? Do you want to destroy your hearing?" Junghee flinches, the question too familiar, echoing those yelled by her mother in her face under the pretense of 'caring', with the real intention of making Junghee hate herself more. "I know you can hear me." Sighing, she rips the ear buds from her ears, stuffing them angrily in her pocket.

 

"Yes? You yelled?"

 

Minho frowns at her. "I didn't mean-"

 

He looks so pathetically hurt that Junghee takes pity. "How was your day, then?"

 

Once, Minho would've been surprised at Junghee's swift topic change, but they've been friends for long enough now. At least, she thinks they're friends. She still can't stop herself from worrying about whether they're actually friends though. Anxiety, again. She needs to hear the confirmation from Minho's mouth unprompted before she can let herself believe they're truly friends. She looks at Minho's tragically handsome and genuine face, and thinks it's really she who is the pathetic one.

 

"My day was pretty great. We did yoga in Wellbeing. Taeyeon was wearing a skirt."

 

"You're disgusting."

 

"-So I lent her my spare trackies. And she looked hella cute 'cause they were way too long. Geez, you're a bit assumptive?"

 

Junghee flinches again. "I didn't. Sorry."

 

There's a tiny crease in Minho's handsome forehead. "That's ok. I wasn't serious. Are you alright? You look a bit..."

 

Junghee snaps her head up from where she's been studying the pavement to look at him. "How'd I look?"

 

"Nothing. You look fine." Junghee knows he's lying and his offhand worry throws her into a spiral of self-consciousness. It feels like everyone is staring at her, even though she knows they're not. She knows they'll forget her face the second they see it, but that doesn’t stop her from worrying. It’s ok, she tells herself, your hair is nice today and your eyeliner looks amazing. Nothing out of place. Sometimes she wishes she were beautiful but most of the time she’s glad just to blend in.

 

"How was your day?" Minho is asking her. Junghee forces herself to focus on the words.

 

Why is everything so difficult? On one hand, she needs to protect herself, needs to raise the barriers and paste on that well-worn smile and casually assure him she's had a good day. On the other hand, she needs, needs. "It's been-" The words hurt her chest and , sharp and heavy and why is such a colloquial, guileless question causing her so much strife? "A bit actually."

 

Minho offers her an understanding smile but she knows he doesn't really understand. "What happened, princess?"

 

Her step falters at the endearment but, despite the blush on her cheeks, pulsing pink on her skin, she likes it. She always likes nicknames, the familiarity and acceptance and friendship in them. And 'princess' makes her feel pretty; Minho's good at that, he's good at making her feel pretty and feminine.

 

All of a sudden, she doesn't care so much about people looking at her. He's still smiling, waiting. She doesn't know why he thinks she's worth waiting for, but she's so glad he does.

 

"I had a bad dream and it threw me off a bit. So I was late to my first lecture. Prof made me read the intro and conclusion of my essay out loud and I stumbled over every word." Shut up, her brain is saying, that's enough. But doesn't take any notice. "And then everyone laughed at me during ing Wellbeing. I'm sorry, but if the first thing that comes to mind when you think of a healthy relationship isn't consent then-" She in a breath, trying to stop the tirade before she says too much. She's already toeing the line.

 

"Ach. Consent covers nearly everything a healthy relationship requires. Baby, you have idiots in your class." Another sharp look at him.

 

"Really?"

 

Minho nods sincerely, frown deepening. "Yeah. Don't listen to them."

 

"If you're sure-"

 

"You're so knowledgeable about this stuff." Minho continues, an edge of awe in his tone. Junghee doesn't even know what he's getting at, but she's still bright pink.

 

"What?"

 

"About, like, healthy relationships and gender and uality..." He waves his hands around vaguely, his nose wrinkled. Amusingly, you tend to become well versed in things you question. Junghee laughs at him as she pushes open the cafe door.

 

"Don't worry, Min, you're safe at least in your position as King of Sports. I'm not taking that title from you any time soon."

 

"Says the girl I've seen at the gym three times this week." Minho pouts, slinging his bag off his shoulder.

 

Junghee rolls her eyes at him. "Alright you. What do you want? I'll treat you."

 

"No way-"

 

"I'm paying off my debts, Min. You bought mine last time when I was low on cash. Don't be a and play the altruistic giver. I'm not a ing charity, let me pay you back." She wouldn't be this forceful with other people, but she's right when she calls him a ; Minho is terrible at letting people pay their debts to him. He doesn't seem to get that people don't like feeling indebted, doesn't seem to understand that it's basic manners to let people pay him back. It's one of the few ways in which he makes her feel uncomfortable. He tries to speak but she hits his chin lightly with her wallet. "You like latte, right?"

 

He heaves this huge, suffering sigh and nods, laughing despite himself at the satisfied smirk on Junghee's face.

 

Later, when Junghee is feeling slightly ill from the sweet bitterness of her hot chocolate (with coconut syrup, yum) and Minho's latte has stopped steaming up his big black-rimmed glasses, Minho gives her a look.

 

"Is there a reason you're giving me a look?"

 

"Have you been shopping with Key recently?"

 

Junghee nods and Minho smiles. "It's just that they were wearing this cute as hell crop top a couple of days ago that would look super cute on you."

 

Long ago, Junghee wore crop tops without a second thought. After transitioning, they were her favourite item of clothing, making her feel pretty and delicate and tough simultaneously. During the worst of her depression, she still wore crop tops, safe in the knowledge that her stomach was toned and flat, from slaving in the gym and starving herself for weeks on end.

 

Now, though, her whole body recoils from the thought. Junghee dragged her own arse out of depression and anorexia, hell, she's still sweating her way out of that dark pit. She's put on weight and she's fine with her body, really she is, but. But it's hard, it's really hard…

 

So, maybe she's a liar. She is really not fine with her body, but she eats normally again because she is strong enough now. She can do it; she can fight the draw of water over real sustenance. But that doesn't mean she can be happy about it.

 

She laughs. "Maybe not." And then, because Minho makes her feel far too comfortable, "My stomach is kinda gross at the moment."

 

Minho gives her this disbelieving stare. "You're kidding, right? You have such a good body."

 

Junghee swallows down the fierce retorts and merely giggles, "No, I just wear flattering clothes. Some of us have this thing called a 'sense of fashion'."

 

"Why do I feel like that was aimed at me? Hey, I got complimented this morning!" Junghee never gets compliments. She gives them out all the time, because if she likes what somebody is wearing of course she's going to tell them, of course she's going to watch for the happiness on people's faces when she gives the compliment. She just wishes…

 

Maybe she should stop complimenting people. Sometimes she thinks she has her own brand of masochism.

 

"Who bought that outfit for you?" She laughs; Minho makes her laugh all the time. God, it's so relaxing.

 

He has the good grace to shrug and look slightly guilty. "Maybe Key?"

 

"Maybe? You're so lucky they took pity on you. It'd be such a shame to see your pretty face ruined by those ugly clothes."

 

"When Key threw them out, you stole half of those 'ugly ' clothes when they wasn't looking."

 

She punches him and he yelps when his latte splashes over the rim and over his fingers. "Ok, so maybe they're comfy."

 

"Maybe?" Minho teases.

 

"But only for lounging around at home! You go outside in them!"

 

It's an age-old, well-rehearsed argument by now and Junghee loves how easily they fall in with one another. She doesn't have to assess Minho's every reaction because he talks, they tell each other if they go too far.

 

They split the price of a slice of chocolate cake and share the same spoon.

 

---

 

When Junghee transitioned, everyone thought she 'switched' to become heteroual 'the other way'. In a sick sort of way it amuses her, the strength of heteronormativity, how it has humanity within its oppressive grip.

 

She's scared of straining her relationship with her parents by saying this isn't the case. Furthermore, she transitioned before Uni so everyone thinks of her as 'her' and similarly assumes she's straight.

 

To be honest, Junghee isn't quite sure what she is and that makes the worry worse, because she’s heard things, things about people demanding a singular definition, is terrified how people will react if she declares herself 'not straight' without labeling it.

 

Junghee’s not really sure why she hasn’t said she’s queer, but perhaps her lingering depression and ubiquitous social anxiety give some clue as to why that is. Perhaps she’s just…

 

Minho, Taeyeon, Key and Jinki, though. Around them she doesn’t. She hasn’t said anything explicit, but they know, of course they know, she’s made out with all of them, nearly had with Taeyeon before she freaked out. But they make her feel like…like…like she doesn’t need to label herself, categorise. As though Junghee can just exist. With them, Junghee is just Junghee, regardless of uality. She can just be.

 

---

 

“Oh lord, she’s so…gorgeous. What a goddess, how is it possible to be that beautiful? I want to her tattoos, help.” Junghee groans, draping herself over Key’s back.

 

They’re on Key’s bed, in the apartment they share with Taeyeon. Taeyeon, as is always the case on Saturdays, is nowhere to be found; either at her dance classes or staying for breakfasts at Minho’s place.

 

As much as Junghee loves the feeling of acceptance and safety that comes from chilling out with her closest friends all at once, she’s always been an introvert through and through. She loves these quiet mornings, when it’s just her and Key alone in the flat, flopping all over one another, content just with sharing the same space in comfortable silence.

 

The sun seeps orange through the light, gauzy curtains and, combined with the heat of Key’s body beside hers, Junghee feels warm to the bone.

 

Now Key tears their eyes away from the screen, where one of their favourite idol groups is filming a photo shoot, and smirks at Junghee suggestively. Junghee sticks her tongue out and teases, “Don’t even lie, you’re thinking exactly the same thing.”

 

“Am not!” Key gasps, pseudo-scandalised. Junghee buries her sniggers in the soft folds of bare skin between Key’s shoulders blades. Key tenses and Junghee immediately pulls away.

 

“Was that not ok? Sorry, I didn’t ask how you’re feeling today.”

 

Key lets out a long exhale and melts into the duvet. “No, it’s ok. Just startled me a little. You can…it’s alright. I like it.” Junghee is queen of subtlety detection, knows Key well enough to understand the gentle encouragement, and immediately nuzzles her face back into the smoothness of Key’s .

 

“How is your skin so soft?” Junghee moans, simultaneously envious and loving.

 

“I’ve bought you that body cream, you just have to use it.” Key scolds.

 

“I can’t reach my own back.” Junghee mumbles pathetically.

 

“Come and ask me to help.” Key says, as though the resolution ought to be obvious. Junghee hums non-committedly, cheek smushed and eyelashes fluttering against Key’s skin. Key rolls away and turns to lie sideways, studying Junghee’s face.

 

When Key hadn’t been looking at her, Junghee had allowed herself to relax; no faux-joy in her expression, only a peaceful sort of contentedness with that omnipresent self-doubt just below the surface. Key’s sudden movement hadn’t allowed her time to affix the mask and Junghee is frozen, caught like a doe in the headlights.

 

Key has this unnerving way of seeing past even the best of Junghee’s facades and she’s terrified of how deeply Key can read her now she’s in front of them. Key hums contemplatively. “What’s holding you back?”

 

Junghee looks away, hiding her face in the duvet. Key doesn’t try and move her; they understand, more than most people do.

 

Key’s voice is usually so sharp, words witty and biting, laugh more of a cackle. This is another reason why Junghee loves Saturday mornings so much. Even Key’s voice gets softer, all the rough edges smoothed into something more akin to gooey than 80% dark chocolate. It still hasn’t got anything on Jinki’s - Junghee wants to die in Jinki’s voice - but she loves it differently.

 

She’s good at that, at loving each of them differently.

 

“I know you’re self-conscious. You try to hide it, making no fuss when we change in the same room, but all the lines of your body get so tense and you’re even quieter than usual until you’re covered by clothes again. May I touch you?” Key adds, as an afterthought. Junghee nods into the mattress and seconds later Key’s delicate fingers are rubbing circles in the stiff muscles of Junghee’s shoulders.

 

If it were anyone else, Junghee would feel cornered. As it is, she just hides her flushed face in the covers and tries to relax.

 

“I know you suffer from anxiety.” Key’s voice trembles a bit and Junghee shoots up, propping herself up using her arms, and interrupts.

 

“Are you ok?” The last thing, the very last thing, that Junghee wants is for Key to suffer for trying to help her. It’s happened to her before, when she’s thought herself strong enough to offer somebody a shoulder, only to leave them comforted and find herself breaking down inside.

 

Key’s eyes are smudgy with the remnants of yesterday’s eyeliner, and they widen slightly at Junghee’s abrupt movement, before relaxing again, lazy eyelids and long eyelashes. “I’m fine. I’m just…sad.”

 

“Sad? Don’t be sad. You don’t have to-”

 

Key’s lips twist, their teeth biting the edge of their lower lip. “I’m sad that you’re sad.”

 

“I’m not sad.” Junghee insists. She’s really not.

 

She’s worried all the time, even if it’s only about tiny, niggling things. She’s scared of so many things; she’s especially terrified of the future, and of people finding out just how weak she is. She gets overpowered by waves of self-hatred at the most inconvenient of times and sometimes she indulges in them because, in giving in, there’s an indescribable sense of...but she’s not sad.

 

Key nods, shuffles closer to Junghee once more, tangling their legs together and slipping their arms around Junghee’s waist, resting their head just below Junghee’s s.

 

Into Junghee’s stomach, they say, “I know you find it hard to accept that we like you back. I don’t understand why, because your mother loves you and you accept her love-“

 

“She has to love me, she’s my mum, it’s different. None of you have an obligation.” Junghee blurts out.

 

Key lets the words settle in the drowsy morning air, before continuing. “And because you’re such a good person, Junghee. I hate to see you looking so drained and pale all the time. I hate seeing you shut yourself down. I hate feeling so useless.”

 

“You’re not useless!” Junghee cries. “Get up here, God, I want to hug you.” Key obliges, wriggling up the bed so Junghee can nuzzle into Key’s warmth with Key’s arms protective and heavy over her, Key’s heartbeat calming Junghee’s own.

 

Junghee can feel the words rumbling through Key’s chest. “Will you come shopping with me? Let me buy you pretty clothes.”

 

“Like that crop top you always wear?” Junghee mutters. Key hums so enthusiastically that Junghee hasn’t the heart to say no, just nods. Key hugs her closer.

 

“Thank you, thank you! You’ll look beautiful, just wait and see.” Junghee isn’t as certain, but she trusts Key to be honest with her, trusts Key too much. She sort of hates talking to people she trusts, because she always says more than she actually wants to. Even if she trusts them, there are parts of herself that she doesn’t want anyone to know about.

 

As if sensing Junghee withdrawing into herself once more, Key breaks the silence that had just started to settle over them. 

 

Softly, they say, “I just wish I could say something to make you happy.”

 

“I am happy.” Junghee insists.

 

Key kisses Junghee’s dye-damaged hair. “I guess I’ll just say ‘I love you’ and hope that helps.”

 

---

 

People have called her a bad friend ever since Junghee can remember. She doesn’t think it’s true - Jinki assures her it’s not - but there’s still this underlying…

 

Junghee wonders why she’s like this. Her family, despite the strains her transitioning had upon them, love her. (Whether they’d still love her if she surprised them by once again breaking heteronormativity and declaring herself queer too, she isn’t sure, doesn’t know.) She’s had an amazing education; she’s intelligent. She’s reasonably wealthy; her family always chose holidays over a large house and she’s travelled to so many beautiful places, she’s seen so many things. She has always had delicious food to eat, a comfortable bed.

 

Is she really this ungrateful? She really doesn’t have any right to be the way she is.

 

“Junghee!”

 

“Jinki!” When Jinki hovers, hesitant, she adds, “Givvus a kiss.” Happily, he presses their lips together in a quick kiss.

 

“You’re looking well.”

 

“I’ve been sleeping.” She admits, shrugging. “Taeyeon’s been on my back for having such unhealthy sleeping patterns. She’s become such a health nut, I swear to God.”

 

Jinki laughs. “Don’t get me started, she brought this absolutely foul green drink to class the other day. Minho and I played rock-paper-scissors and I lost and had to try it.” He mimes gagging and Junghee shakes her hands at him.

 

“No, no, you don’t get it. She makes those ty drinks in our kitchen and it reeks of healthiness in there. I think she’s broke from buying all those ing vegetables. Then she does dance workouts in the living room. We’ve had so many complaints from downstairs and every time it happens she pouts and gets all upset but she keeps doing it!” Junghee rolls her eyes - a habit she picked up from spending far too much time in Key’s presence - but Jinki knows she’s not really angry.

 

When it comes to Taeyeon, everyone can’t help but fall helplessly in love, and Junghee is self-proclaimed queen of the Taeyeon Appreciation Society. She mentions it whenever she wants cuddles.

 

“Thanks for helping me with this, by the way.” Jinki says as he pushes open the door to the music block.

                                                                                                                       

“No problem.” It’s strange how confident Junghee is when it comes to singing. She doesn’t quite understand it herself.

 

“I’ll take you out for dinner.”

 

“You don’t have to.”

 

“It was a preliminary. I’d really love to go out to dinner with you, please say yes?” Jinki has these huge eyes that make it near impossible for Junghee to say no. She hates him, maybe. (Maybe not.)

 

Junghee wrote the lyrics and Jinki wrote the music. After spending a fortnight practicing, and with the deadline for Jinki’s coursework rapidly approaching, they’re both determined to efficiently work tonight to finish the recording. Junghee and Jinki have artistic unity in their dedication and both know they’ll be disappointed if they don’t manage to get the basic recording finished, so they cut the tomfoolery as far as is possible.

 

It’s 2 am when Jinki locks the music block behind them. Despite the exhaustion that has seeped into their voices, there’s something about the preciousness of the night that awakens Junghee. It always happens; this is why she suffers from insomnia so much. She hops from foot to foot, jumping with both feet down the steps, flapping her hands to ward off the chill of the nighttime breezes, until Jinki rolls his eyes and throws her his scarf to compensate for the thinness of her denim jacket and the crop top underneath. (The crop top is cute, even she has to admit it, and Taeyeon had let out this cry of delight when Junghee came out of their bedroom in it so she thinks it’s really not too bad.)

 

“I read somewhere, a description of the night.” Junghee says, linking her arm with Jinki’s. There was a time when Junghee had easily linked arms with all her friends but when she’d been sent to a new school in year 9, her inability to make friends had been highlighted and she’d been left without any physical contact with another human being for two years. She spent that time longing and longing for somebody to link arms with, somebody to hug platonically, yet the absence had corroded her confidence and she had been left averse to touching anyone at all, hating people touching her.

 

Now she’s regained enough of her confidence to casually wrap her arms around Minho, or teasingly pat Jinki’s bottom, but it’s only with a meagre few. It amazes her still just how much those friendless years changed her.

 

“Who by?”

 

“Katherine Mansfield. It was gorgeous. I’ll find it for you.”

 

“What was the gist of it?” Jinki always wants to know more, is always ready to listen. Junghee feels suddenly like she wants to cry. She blames it on the tiredness.

 

Her voice is a little shaky but Jinki doesn’t comment, just pulls her closer, so their hips bump with every step. “It was about the softness of nighttime. How the slowness lets one linger on one’s thoughts, how the darkness creates a sense of…freedom. To be alone in a little bubble of light and to be more true to oneself.”

 

Jinki doesn’t say anything for a while; the only sounds are their footsteps on the pavement and their breath puffing out into the chilly air. Occasionally, a car passes. Junghee is too tired to freak out about having said something wrong yet again.

 

She presses her forehead against Jinki’s bicep and hopes he won’t shrug her away.

 

He doesn’t.

 

“Ah.” He sighs. “No wonder your lyrics are so wonderful. You’re a poet without even trying.”

 

Junghee pinches his waist gently. The light of her apartment building nears and she starts walking slower on purpose. There’s a timelessness in the night that makes her want to remain suspended in this moment forever; the tips of her fingers threatening to succumb to frost bite, drowning in his warm, comforting, sweet-smelling scarf, tied down to reality only by Jinki’s heat beside her.

 

“May I kiss you goodnight?” Jinki asks, in the cold light from the lobby.

 

“Not tonight.” Junghee says, but she goes on tiptoes and kisses his cheek.

 

Key opens the door before Junghee can get the key in the lock.

 

“You’re late.” They drawl, frowning at the hallway light, pulling Junghee inside, into the soft light of the small living room. There’s drool on their chin that tells Junghee they were just asleep, and a red blanket is falling off their shoulders. Junghee kicks the door shut and shrugs off her coat; she’s still wearing Jinki’s scarf and she’s somewhat reluctant to take it off, even in the heat of the flat.

 

“Sorry, you needn’t have stayed up.”

 

They ignore her, blinking lazily, a smile playing around their lips. “You look so pretty. Knew you would. Told you so.” Key wipes their face with the blanket, tosses it aside, and pulls Junghee closer by the lace at the bottom of the crop top.

 

“Baby Tae ‘sleep?” Key nods, arms around Junghee’s waist, flush to Junghee’s front. They’re sticky with sleepiness and Junghee feels the night chill melt out of her.

 

“Kiss?” They mutter, eyes struggling to focus on Junghee’s lips.

 

Junghee laughs softly, and kisses them.