A/N: Happy Birthday in advance, Wendy!

“Want a smoke?”

 

Wendy was a good girl.

 

A straight A student who also loved the course she had chosen, the girl who has a smile ready for everyone and a set of values she adhered closely to.

 

Which was why she was stuck behind the library indulging in her vices (her peers would balk at the sight of even a drink in her hands), taking the spliff from the upperclassman, Tiffany’s dark eyes roaming around the empty lot disinterestedly, smoke billowing from and wisping away in the atmosphere. She placed the stick on her lips, the paper rough against her lips and inhaled deeply, the sharp, tangy smoke stinging the back of and up her nose. Her eyes watered but she welcomed the feeling, exhaling the excess smoke from her nostrils, tilting her head upwards and watching the grey smoke disperse.

 

“Rough day?”

 

Tiffany’s voice, whether rough from disuse or her barely noticeable hangover, was always husky, sending shivers (of what?) down Wendy’s spine. The blonde shook her head, golden strands catching the sunlight filtering through the awning, Tiffany taking another shot at her spliff.

 

“Just...contemplating my recent choices and wondering if it’s going to go to at the end.”

 

A small smile quirk at the corner of Tiffany’s lips, her eyes lighting to life mischievously.

 

“Doesn’t everything eventually turn to in the end?”

 

Wendy made a face.

 

“Eh. Some things do remain shiny, don’t they?”

 

Tiffany chuckled lowly but didn’t say anything, merely letting the spliff burn between her fingers.

 

Not for the first time, Wendy found herself wondering what happened to the girl behind the blank demeanour and the rare smiles, often found in the small flashes of personality behind eyes deeper than the ocean. The blonde dug her heels into the ground and leant against the wall next to Tiffany, watching at the small glow of the burning stick, making theories in her head on how much Tiffany had to go through to have to hide so much of herself.

 

“So...what is this choice that had you so troubled?”

 

If it wasn’t for Tiffany staring at her, Wendy would’ve dismissed the words as a hallucination because Tiffany has never taken an interest beyond her photography and her parties (and one other thing). Blinking rapidly, Wendy struggled to find her words, displaying her teeth in a smile that she knew Tiffany could see through immediately.

 

“I offered my ... help to a ... friend.”

 

(Was Irene a friend?

 

Beyond the nickname and the occasional greetings when she went to the library, she barely knew the art major, the brunette as mysterious and beautiful as the chords that made Wendy’s daily life, as far away as the first time Wendy saw her.)

 

Tiffany raised an eyebrow, a single motion that telegraphed more of her emotions than her face did.

 

“And this is troubling you?”

 

Wendy reached over and plucked the almost burned down spliff from Tiffany’s fingers, taking a hit before answering.

 

“It’s the nature of the favour that has me troubled.”

 

Wendy didn’t know why she agreed to it after saying no in the first place. If it was any of her friends, she would’ve given them a look before dismissing it but with Irene and her pleading eyes and soft words, Wendy had found herself crumbling and reaching out, wanting more than anything to put the smile back onto the clearly shamefaced girl.

 

(Why?)

 

It was as though the world kept drawing them together, two opposite poles of a magnet that kept sticking together no matter how hard Wendy tried resisting.

 

(Why was she resisting?

 

Why would she resist a girl who was so shy that even the notion of Wendy playfully flirting with her had her red faced and eyes averted?

 

A girl that kept popping up in Wendy’s mind ever since that first meeting?)

 

Tiffany took the burnt out spliff from her and tossed it onto the ground, her boots stomping on the glowing end to put the light out. The dark haired girl pushed her bangs away from her face and once again, Wendy was taken aback from how pretty Tiffany was behind the smudged makeup and the hair covering half her face.

 

“The favour can’t be troubling you that much if you said yes.”

 

Wendy hummed, her nails scratching at the tear in her jeans.

 

“If that’s not the case, then why am I so out of it?”

 

Tiffany snorted, her eyebrow raising again.

 

“How would I know? Your thoughts are your own.”

 

(Part of her knew why; it was really obvious, but the other part of her, the larger part, the part of her that didn’t want anybody to know of her vices and the constant need to please her overbearing parents doesn’t want to think about it, not yet, not now, not ever.)

 

As though reading her mind, Tiffany continued on slowly, her fingers pulling at a frayed thread at the end of her black jumper.

 

“Maybe it’s not the nature of the favour but who’s asking it.”

 

Wendy gaped at her, about to rebut the black haired girl’s words when another voice cut in.

 

“Who’s asking who for a favour?”

 

The both of them turned towards the newcomer, Wendy’s eyes trailing back towards Tiffany to witness the transformation.

 

(The other thing Tiffany cared about.)

 

True to form, a smile was already making its way towards Tiffany’s face, the muted stars in her eyes alight at the sight of her girlfriend, Jessica pushing away some stray branches as she walked towards them. The older blonde grinned in response and gave Tiffany a slight kiss, just by the corner of the black haired girl’s smile, their fingers intertwining. She glanced over to Wendy, taking in Wendy’s expression and her smile dimmed a fraction.

 

“Ah, Wendy. I didn’t see you there.”

 

(The silent apology for the public display of affection was loud behind the innocent words.

 

Wendy noticed Tiffany’s hand tightening around Jessica’s.)

 

The blonde waved a hand, Wendy shaking her head.

 

“It’s fine.”

 

Jessica’s expression told her that she clearly didn’t believe her but the older girl didn’t pursue it, turning her attention back towards Tiffany, her eyes softening at the sight of Tiffany.

 

“You ready to go?”

 

Tiffany nodded, tilting her head towards Wendy, her form of a silent goodbye before following Jessica out, the both of them pressed together tightly, fingers interlaced. Wendy watched them quietly, waving her fingers in return before turning her face towards the skies, the pang in her chest that always accompanied the presence of both Jessica and Tiffany thrumming and bleeding into her veins. Her upbringing whispered words at the back of her mind, reminding her of all the ways it was wrong, the social conventions of today’s world warring against it and saying that love was love, no matter what it was. It gave her a headache, Wendy pinching the bridge of her nose to relieve some of the pressure.

 

It was tiring, holding both personas up, one for her overbearing, traditional parents, parents she cannot disappoint and her liberal friends, friends who thought the Jessica/Tiffany saga that took place last year was the best thing to have ever happened. But she did it because she loves her parents and she loves her friends and she didn’t want to lose anybody.

 

Which was probably why her decision to model for Irene was troubling her-

 

(Irene, sweet, shy Irene who smiled like a nebula forming and has a voice that sounded like an angel.

 

Irene who made Wendy want to put a label on what she felt, want to name the swelling warmth in her chest even though she didn’t know what she’d call it if she ever wanted to.)

 

No, not troubling.

 

It was terrifying her.

 

But there was no way to take the decision back.

 

Not without taking away the small burst of happiness that Irene had given her when the brunette hugged her in gratitude, comforting (like a home) arms wrapped around Wendy like a blanket.

 

It was small and probably meaningless to Irene, but somehow, to Wendy, everything about Irene meant something, no matter how small.

 

*

 

(She had seen Irene long before their first meeting in the library.

 

Soft, beautiful and quiet, stirring up an unknown feeling within her with just a quirk of her lips.)

 

“God damn it, Seulgi.”

 

Wendy cursed her friend under her breath, the bag slipping in her sweaty hands. Her shoes skidded against the pavement, the ground wet from the sudden rainfall that kept her at the store for a precious twenty minutes. She jostled the party supplies in her arms before running past the next corner, sighing in relief when she saw the park coming up ahead of her. Seulgi waved her hands frantically over her head and ran out to greet her, practically ripping the bag away from Wendy.

 

“She’s almost here!”

 

Wendy scowled at her, bending over to catch her breath.

 

“Whose fault is that?!”

 

Seulgi waved her off, pulling the streamers from the bag and hanging it onto the trees, decorating the small barbeque pit area in preparation for Joy’s birthday. Wendy heaved in deep breath, waiting for her heart to stop feeling like it would come out from her chest before moving to help Seulgi, her friend frantically tossing the colourful pieces of paper over the pillars and sticking tape on them. Appalled, Wendy followed her from behind to fix the so called “artistic mess” look Seulgi was going for.

 

In about ten minutes, the area looked presentable enough for a surprise party, Seulgi slumping against the picnic table and groaning.

 

“Never, ever, again. The stress is killing me.”

 

Leaning heavily against Seulgi, Wendy smacked her friend in the back, ignoring the pained welp and muttered darkly.

 

“You’re stressed? I was the one who had to run three blocks to and fro to get decorations that you forgot!”

 

Seulgi pushed against her roughly.

 

“I’m like a coral. I will die from stress.”

 

Lifting her body away from the older girl, she looked at Seulgi incredulously, wanting to reach out to feel if Seulgi was running a fever.

 

It was the only plausible explanation for the weird sayings Seulgi was currently spouting.

 

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