pairing: Jihyo x Nayeon

summary: We’re out, we’re out, she repeats to herself. The door closes, the world is ahead.

raiting: M (girl x girl yay)

warning: minor character death and mentions of abusive relationship

 

 

 

 

 

She looks at the man on the couch -  the man who she used to love. It seems like a lifetime has passed since then. She had been so young, both in her heart and mind, and he had been dazzling if not a little dangerous. Unfortunately, she had always been drawn to that -  to personalities a little stronger than hers, to unseen endings, to danger and unexpected twists. He had ticked all the boxes and in her eyes he had been perfect.

 

But that was a long ago.

 

She swallows, almost afraid to breathe too loudly in case it wakes him up. It is hard to predict his moods: he might wake up smiling, looking for a next drink or a cigarette and he might even show her some kindness if the stars aligned just right. Or he might wake up cranky and frustrated. During those moods he would be the most unpredictable.

 

When she had finally managed to be honest with herself she had realized that she was living with a volcano. Not a dead one, but with an active volcano that has more power the scientists can predict it to have. One day it would blow up for good, leaving behind destruction. To himself and to others.

 

She knows now that the day is approaching, as something about his behavior makes her even more nervous than it did before.

 

Not long ago she would have stayed: humble and loving despite everything. She would have stayed by his side to see it all to the very end, not caring about herself, if there was still a chance to save him.

 

But things have changed since then.

 

She takes one last look at him and turns on her heel. She tiptoes to the bedroom, even as she is sure that he won't wake up - not tonight, not after drinking so much (even to his standards). Tonight, nothing can go wrong. She has to succeed or she might never find the courage again.

 

She knows where the suitcase is, even as she hasn't used it in years (has it really been so long? she shivers, thinking about all the time she has wasted in this rat hole) because lately she has spent time thinking about it. It has been growing on her mind, the black leather, the worn corners, the one zipper at the back that doesn't close properly.

 

It's her last ticket to freedom.

 

She doesn't think about it too much when she throws clothes in to the suitcase. It is much smaller than she remembered it to be but it is the only one she has. It doesn't matter how much stuff she can get out, as long as they get out.

 

Raw instinct guides her and she hopes that the adrenaline won't stop her from thinking clearly. What does she need, what do they need? she asks herself over and over.

 

A new life, a new start - a voice says in her head and it's friendly. Whose voice is it?

 

A quiet cry comes from the corner of the room and she almost jumps out of her own skin - she has to hurry up.

 

The crying doesn't go on but she can feel his restlessness. Maybe she is radiating so much anxiety that it affects others.

 

She flips the suitcase closed and hurries to the hallway to get her jacket and shoes. She checks once again that she has money and an ID with her, but doesn't worry about the keys. She won't be needing them.

 

Once dressed, she goes back to the bedroom, lifts the suitcase and goes to the corner of the room. Everything is quiet now when she reaches for the crib, looking at her baby like he is her only source of courage left.

 

She lifts him up, dresses him and thanks powers greater than her for the fact that he doesn't make any noise. His eyes are open and he looks at her thoughtfully, as if he understands everything. Like he could tell her more about herself than she could.

 

She uses one arm to hold him and the free hand to carry the suitcase. It's a heavy burden but she'll be damned if she lets such small things stop her now.

 

In the living room she takes a last look, even as she promised herself not to. He is nothing but a pile of ash, ash made out of her dead dreams. Still the tears threaten to fall as she turns around and walks out of the apartment, leaving him behind for good.

 

We’re out, we’re out, she repeats to herself so that her legs won't give in. The door closes, the world is ahead.

 

 

-

 

 

She hates it.

 

The way her mother's mouth forms a thin red line and how she folds her skinny arms against her chest. She reeks of disappointment and didn't-I-say-so but Nayeon has nowhere else to go. She'll kneel in front of her if it's what it takes.

 

Not long ago she would have laughed at the idea of doing anything to please her mother enough to get some help. But things have turned. She'll crawl from one end of the house to the other, praying her forgiveness if it'll make her heart thaw.

 

But she doesn't have to. Despite all of their differences her mother lets her in, albeit reluctantly.

 

She could cry again but she doesn't. It's an understatement to say that it's a relief to be finally safe. Maybe not for good, but at least for one night they will have a roof over their heads.

 

All she wants to do is sleep. Sleep for ten years and wake up like it had all been a bad dream, and none of it had really been her fault.

 

 

-

 

 

The first weeks are awkward, as if she is learning to walk again after doing it wrong for so long. She and her mother don't know how to be around each other anymore, if they ever even did. Her mother makes sarcasm a weapon, but Nayeon tries to ignore it. If anything, she deserves it. Let her talk, it's not going to hurt her like it used to.

 

And the baby is safe. It is all that matters and she'll take sarcasm and cold shoulders any day of the week if it means that her child is away from the self-destructive shadow of a man.

 

She hasn't heard from him, which is a relief. Not that she hasn't done everything in her power to stop him from reaching out. She has changed her number, changed her name, changed everything she could and left nothing behind. He might have tried to find her parents but she had always told him she hated them so much that he wouldn't believe she'd be willing to come here.

 

But there were many things that he didn't know, especially in the last months after the baby had been born. All the things that she kept from him, turned out to be the only things that could save her and the baby.

 

 

-

 

 

After a month of circling around each other in the huge house, she takes a job from a local company. Her consolation is that as much as she and her mother hate each other, her mother seems to care for the baby if not for her. They agree to her babysitting while she works as much as she can.

 

It's not a hard job, per se, but it has been a while since she has been in the outside world like this. For years her whole world was him and everything that she was, was somehow linked to his existence. She hadn't realized just how shy she had gotten, how much she had drawn to herself and how little she knew about anything that happened outside their four walls.

 

She has a degree, knows she is not stupid, knows she is capable, but everything is so new that she struggles with the simplest things. How to talk to people, how not to be awkward around customers. Just being on her own is a struggle.

 

Who is she now? Who was she before? Who does she want to become?

 

 

-

 

 

It's another Friday evening in her new life.

 

The report isn't due until next Monday but it doesn't matter to her. She knows that if she doesn't get it ready tonight, she won't get it done later. Her mom is not taking care of Kiha during the weekend and the combination of trying to do something intellectual while looking after the small crawling monkey is too much.

 

It's not like she hasn't tried.

 

She closes her eyes and presses fingertips to the base of her nose to try and fight a headache knocking on her temple. It's not too bad yet, but she knows that if she keeps it up it'll be extremely painful by the time she gets home.

 

Sighing, she opens her eyes and begins going through the numbers. There's something she is not seeing; she is sure of it. But what can it be when she has been doing the thing over and over for hours?

 

Her mind begins to wander again and her stomach does a tiny noise of protest. She glances at an empty granola bar wrap on the table in front of her and hates the version of herself who had eaten it an hour ago.

 

The office is quiet at this hour. Most of the workers have gone to their wives and husbands, and the few attractive (how on earth can they manage it?) single people to their cool friends', y dates and trendy hobbies. She can't exactly say that she is jealous. She has been to hell and back, and the dark days aren't so far in the past that she hasn't forgotten what it felt like to be trapped in her own life. What she has now is a major improvement in every way.

 

Yet, it can feel a little lonely sometimes. Her mother isn't exactly the sort of person she can open up to and Kiha is her son. She is supposed to be there for him no matter what happens. So far, she has kept that promise.

 

This damned report that makes her mind spin - it's all for him.

 

"Hey," comes a soft voice from the doorway and even as she startles a little it takes way too long to stop staring at an empty spot above the computer and look to the door.

 

"Hey," she answers back and can't help a small insistent smile breaking over her face. It's Jihyo. The nicest co-worker on earth. Or something like that, she prefers not to think about it too much.

 

"Why are you still here?" she asks instead and straightens in her chair without realizing.

 

The younger woman laughs, filling the room like sunlight.

 

"I was about to ask you that," she says and brushes a hand over her long brown locks. "Still tackling the quarter report?"

 

"Yeah," she sighs, looking back at the computer screen. All the numbers and letters swarm in front of her eyes so that she has to squint. "I want to finish it tonight."

 

Nayeon feels Jihyo's gaze on her, searching for something. It's not exactly a new sensation around her friend.

 

"Here, watch this for a minute," Jihyo says and drops a stylish purse on the side of the desk and then walks out, leaving a faint trace of perfume behind her. Nayeon watches after her for a moment before going back to the report.

 

Sometime later she feels a hand on her shoulder and an unmistakable smell of fresh coffee. She blinks hard a couple of times and wonders if she had fallen asleep.

 

"Sugar, no milk," Jihyo says softly and sits down on the edge of the desk, with a cup in each hand. When she gives the other one to Nayeon, their fingers brush ever so slightly.

 

"I could marry you," Nayeon blurts and takes a sip of her coffee. The liquid falls down smoothly and she concentrates on the sensation of being in a state of hazy tiredness that is in some sense very pleasant. The sort of tired she feels after working hard on something.

 

"...and terrible at cleaning," Jihyo says and it isn't until the other woman begins to laugh that she realizes that she hasn't really been listening.

 

"Sorry?" She is suddenly bewildered at the fact that Jihyo's left leg is swinging over the edge of the desk, right next to where her hand is resting on the table. She draws her hand back.

 

"I was just telling you all the reasons why I am not wife material, but you were polite enough to ignore it." Jihyo’s mouth smirks and eyes laugh and suddenly the room is too stuffy and too quiet.

 

"Ah, um... My mother has always been big on manners," she says, not hearing the bitterness in "my mother."

 

But Jihyo does.

 

"Is everything alright at home?"

 

Nayeon stops herself before starts talking on its own. There's something about the other woman that always manages to get through her, and for that reason she also happens to be the only person at work who really knows anything about her life, other than that she is a single mother of a small boy. Jihyo seems to have been collecting information for the past three months, as if Nayeon is a crossword puzzle to her. She can't seem to stop asking things and making assumptions (and oh terror, she is also always right).

 

Part of her wants to talk and never stop, but another part of her wishes that she would shut up for good.

 

"Nayeon?"

 

"Yeah, everything is fine. Just... a little tired, that's all," she says and smiles. It's not a lie, but it's not the whole truth either.

 

"I could look after Kiha sometime. I know, it's not always easy to arrange things with your mother."

 

"Would you?"

 

"Of course," Jihyo says and looks like she means it. Nayeon gulps down the rest of her coffee and thinks some things are too good to be true. Too great, too kind, too considerate to be true at all.

 

"That's very kind of you," she says and gets up. "I'll let you know if I'll need help." Secretly she hopes it will never happen.

 

"I'm giving up on the report, I'll come earlier on Monday," Nayeon says and busies herself with getting ready to leave.

 

"Okay, well... I hope you have a pleasant weekend." Jihyo slides down from the desk. Before she walks out of the room she puts her hand on Nayeon's shoulder and squeezes it gently.

 

"I meant what I said," she says and Nayeon's is forced to look into her eyes. It's only a short moment but it manages to make her feel a little uneasy. "Goodnight."

 

"Goodnight..." she says and watches as Jihyo leaves again. A part of her seems to linger in the room even as she is gone.

 

"Thanks for the coffee," she mumbles and the shadows in the office seem to wave gently.

 

 

-

 

 

Only two weeks later, she has to take Jihyo up on her offer.

 

She ends up ringing a bell at Jihyo's doorstep at 7 pm on Saturday evening with Kiha in her arms. He is looking around with his dark, wet eyes and cheerfully munches on his toy. Part of her wants to kiss him and another part just wants to cry.

 

A surprised Jihyo opens the door, but she manages to mask her emotions so well that Nayeon wonders if she has ever taken acting classes.

 

"Hi, I am very sorry to be coming here, unannounced, at this hour, but my mom got some surprise guests coming over and well-"

 

"Don't worry about it. Come in!"

 

Nayeon takes a few steps and before she has time to notice Jihyo has already scooped Kiha into her arms so that she can discard her coat. The little boy takes an instant interest in the other woman's face and starts to pat her cheeks like the little rascal he is.

 

Jihyo only laughs and somewhere inside Nayeon bees are making honey under the sun.

 

"Kiha-yah! You should behave around ladies!" she says mock-sternly but the other woman and the little boy don't seem to listen to her. He looks like he has known Jihyo for his whole, albeit short, life.

 

"I was just making some dinner, are you hungry?" Jihyo asks and walks ahead into the kitchen with the baby in her arm. For someone who has just been surprised by two guests, one being a baby, she is being miraculously easy-going.

 

"It's fine, don't bother about me." She stands in the living room, taking in all the details of the apartment. It's elegant, clean and cozy with Jihyo written all over it. She glances at a grey, extremely soft looking couch with multicolored pillows and falls in love at first sight. She takes a seat and sighs from delight.

 

It's even softer than it looks.

 

"It's no bother, I always cook too much," Jihyo says and comes back to the living room. Kiha looks pleased with himself but when he sees his mom he begins to reach out with his tiny hands.

 

"Back to mommy," Jihyo coos and the way she does it, is not annoying at all. Nayeon has heard enough grown-ups cooing to babies lately and it usually makes her want to put on headphones.

 

"Dinner will be ready in five!"

 

 

-

 

 

Later that evening Nayeon finds herself waking up from the heaven-made couch, after which could have been a small nap or a five-hour-blackout. Her brain refuses to register. Before she has much time to wake up she is already wondering where Kiha is, almost before she remembers her own name. Tiredly she opens her eyes and relaxes the moment she sees what is in front of her.

 

Jihyo is sitting on the other side of the couch, with Kiha in her arms. The boy is sleeping soundly and clutching the other woman's shirt in his tiny palm. The screen light from tv bathes them in pale neon colors and Nayeon studies the other woman's features. Her nose that swoops downwards like a gentle slope, her cushion-soft lips (are you sure?) and cheeks. It's hard to believe that the woman in front of her is not a mother herself. She seems to instinctively know what to do and it makes the baby feel safe.

 

Nayeon makes the moment last as long as she can, all the while watching from under her eyelashes, hoping that it is okay to feel the way she does.

 

 

-

 

 

Nayeon knows she's got a problem.

 

Jihyo arrives to work on Tuesday morning wearing a white blazer over a black top, with her hair tied up and head held high. She knows all of this in an instant as the woman enters the office with two cups of coffee in her hand - sugar, no milk - like she usually does and lays it gently next to Nayeon's computer and smiles.

 

It's what they do. Drink coffee together and smile because they can't seem to stop.

 

But the problem... The problem is very different.

 

"Tell me what to buy for a person who already has everything," the younger woman groans and once again sits down on the corner of the desk. (She should put a cushion on the spot, Nayeon thinks and smiles to herself). "My mother has a birthday soon and I'm running out of ideas."

 

"If you can't figure it out, no one can," she says and looks at the computer in front of her, then at a thigh next to her keyboard and then back to the screen.

 

"Very helpful," Jihyo drawls and Nayeon feels a smirk taking possession of her own face. It's like she can't control it at all. There are many things that she can't seem to control lately, which is strange. Isn't this the reason why she left before, to regain control over her life and self?

 

She has read somewhere that the main problem to people feeling helpless is because they always hand control of their own lives to someone or something else. They blame others and do nothing to change anything in themselves. Is she slipping back to that?

 

"What about a... a gift card to a beauty parlor or something?" she asks and lets herself go. She stares at a spot on Jihyo's front, where the top disappears under the blazer, and wishes she could put a hand under the white fabric and feel the line of hip underneath. Warm fabric on warm skin. Fabric that hugs the body like a lover.

 

"I guess, you're right," Jihyo says and stares through the glass walls into the main office, unaware that she is being watched, that she is being caressed with an appraising gaze over and over.

 

Nayeon tries to breathe in deep but it only makes it worse. It seems as if every move she does or doesn't do makes the symptoms of lust only worse. For the first time in her life, she wants to drag a woman into a bathroom and kiss her s and her neck, and whatever it is that needs kissing, and whatever it is that makes the woman feel like heaven is a place on earth and that she is the queen of it all.

 

It's a such a strange and heightened feeling, so unlike anything she has felt in years. Or has she ever felt like this before? Almost like a physical pain from the fact that she can't touch someone. What is it? Admiration? A crush? Longing? Lust? Love? All of them at once?

 

"Well, I better go start on that meeting plan, I'll catch you later."

 

When Jihyo walks out of the room, Nayeon agrees that it is something laced with more than a little bit of fear.

 

 

-

 

 

These problems seem small a week later when Nayeon gets a call from the police saying that she needs to come identify a body.

 

It has been a slow day at work, but when the call comes everything slows down to a complete stop. It feels like the whole building is holding its breath when she walks to the manager's office, requesting the rest of the day off. She tells the manager just enough that she knows what is going on, but not so much that she really knows what is going on.

 

Before she registers what has happened she is already walking back with a coat on her hand. She can see Jihyo's eyes through the glass panel when their gazes meet and for a blink they converse what has happened so that by the time she has reached the elevator, she is sure Jihyo already knows.

 

She takes a taxi, despite it costing more than she should pay and when the driver wants to chat about weather and the latest news she only nods. Thankfully, when he hears where they are going he shuts up and only glances at her anxious form through the mirror every now and then.

 

At the station she finds an information desk, gets an efficient looking officer to her and by the time the white corridors end and they arrive to a white door, she feels like she hasn't moved in days but is still out of breath. The thirty minutes from the phone call to her last step to the door have been the longest and the shortest of her life, and she will never remember them because she will never forget what follows.

 

There he is, the love of her life.

 

She recognizes him before they manage to pull the white (everything is white, even his skin looks white) fabric over his discolored head. The beaten body of a haunted soul, she would know those outlines even in her dreams. The way he seems to curl into himself like a dying tree or a dog being beaten.

 

His face is distorted and smaller than she remembers. He looks peaceful but the lines around his mouth make her lips wobble. She can see how much he resembles their son and it's a stuff of nightmares, the way the grief and anger hammer in her chest as if trying to tear out of it.

 

"Is it him?" A grey, distant man asks her and she nods, nods once, nods twice, nods until tears roll down her face.

 

Then he is gone.

 

They pull her away. He was drowned, they say. Under the influence of alcohol. Most likely a suicide.

 

She keeps nodding. To them, to herself, to him.

 

You still love him, don’t you? Why couldn’t you save him?

 

And she leaves, finally breaking apart from her old self, who might as well lay dead in one of the metallic tables in the white room.

 

 

-

 

 

"Did you get my message?" Jihyo says as she comes to open the door to a teary-eyed Nayeon an hour later. She has tried to talk herself out of this, but even as she stood in the metro among all the other living people it didn’t stop her body from going where it wanted to go.

 

"I did," she says and pushes inside, feeling so alien in her own body. Maybe it's him now? Maybe it's his ghost that taken over?

 

"Was it him?" Jihyo asks, even as Nayeon knows she knows. She is Jihyo and Jihyo knows everything, except one thing.

 

So, she lays the last card out in the open and kisses Jihyo the moment the door closes. The younger woman answers to the kiss immediately and Nayeon's body hums from pleasure, knowing that Jihyo wants it too, that she wants her. But the moment doesn't last long as Jihyo pushes her away tenderly.

 

"Nayeon, you're not feeling fine. Let's sit down and-"

 

"I don't want to talk about it," she spats and steps closer again. There's desire and fear in Jihyo’s eyes as Nayeon regards the line of her jaw, the skin of her earlobe, the softness of the lips she has just kissed. She places a hand on either side of the wall around Jihyo's head and pushes their bodies together.

 

"Please," she whimpers and feels that the tears have dried, but that it doesn't mean that they don't burn her like the fires of hell even now. She grinds her body on the other woman's and feels Jihyo shiver. She won't do it if Jihyo won't let her, because she is not like that, but a part of her wonders what the hell she will do with herself if she says no. Fling herself out of the window?

 

She presses her face to the crook of Jihyo's neck and just breathes, taking in the heady scent of her skin. She grinds against Jihyo’s thigh and can almost feel the younger woman melting with her.

 

She waits, as they both do. What is Jihyo going to do? Can she resist the magnetic pull that has been evident for months, or will she do the right thing, like she always does?

 

So, Nayeon uses a one last trick.

 

"Please, I need you," she whispers to the other woman's ear and snap, Jihyo is over her like a storm. The brunette pins her to the wall and kisses her on the mouth with such hunger that Nayeon wonders what she has gotten herself into. She slips her tongue inside a liquid mouth and Jihyo's tongue with her own as hard as she can.

 

Jihyo moans so loudly that she wants to laugh from pleasure.

 

Nayeon lets her hands wander, pull and grab as they please and it feels like medicine to have such woman in her arms. All the days that Jihyo has been there for her, all the times she has just been there without knowing that Nayeon is drinking her with her eyes any moment she gets, this is an acknowledgement for all those moments.

 

It's raw and rough when Jihyo pushes her into the bedroom. Their lips are sealed together and it seems lethal to stop kissing now. At least, until she feels herself falling backwards, gasping for air and more. Jihyo crawls over her and isn’t so soft, or tender. Or maybe a little, but Nayeon can't quite distinguish between what she wants, what she needs and what is. Jihyo is a fantasy in her head but also a real human being.

 

(Real, like he isn't anymore.)

 

Nayeon clutches at Jihyo's shoulders desperately and the younger woman begins kissing her from one ear to the other, making sure to give love to each spot of skin in between. When she presses an open mouthed kiss to Nayeon's throat, she feels terrified and free.

 

Jihyo doesn't do what Nayeon wants her to, instead she does everything better than she could have imagined. Tears away clothes, but not all of them, and leaves them both in their underwear, and somewhere deep down Nayeon knows that it’s better this way, because they're already going too fast, so fast that there might not be a friendship left by the end of it.

 

Then again she doesn't care when Jihyo slides over her, kissing shoulders and collarbones while her wild brown hair is everywhere, in her eyes, in , obscuring the view. And the thighs and s she has dreamed of, they are right there and-

 

Jihyo's right hand travels under the band of her and she is already more wet than she has ever been. Jihyo brushes her fingers over the a couple of times and Nayeon nearly falls apart from just that, but Jihyo is cleverer and knows that it's not what she wants now. No soft and sweet pleasure, she wants to be ripped open so that the grief can flow out.

 

Jihyo s her fingers inside in to liquid heat and Nayeon nearly screams, vision getting blurry.

 

"It's okay," Jihyo's mouth says but her fingers aren't so gentle and with ten seconds of rough pumping Nayeon comes so hard that her whole back arches from the bed and she ends up in a sitting position in Jihyo's arms, with the other woman's fingers still inside of her.

 

"I am sorry," she weeps and isn't quite sure what for, or who for.

 

"So sorry."

 

 

-

 

 

When Nayeon wakes up in Jihyo's arms later that day, she doesn't waste any time enjoying herself. She slips out of the bed without waking the other woman and dresses as quietly as she can. Jihyo is sleeping with her hair all over a pillow like a lion's mane and the way the duvet has left her body half-covered and half- makes Nayeon's insides pulse again.

 

When she is hardly out of the door, she calls to work to inform them that she is taking the rest of the week off. Surprisingly, she doesn't even feel guilty about it like she thought she would.

 

She walks down the street and feels like the day she left him with Kiha. It's absurd, but she is fleeing again. There is no way that she could face Jihyo after bearing her soul out in the open like that.

 

She probably doesn't want anything to do with me anyway, she thinks and feels a grim sort of satisfaction. Maybe it was she who had ruined the relationship with him before? Maybe it was she who had forced him into drinking and violence?

 

You're the real reason why he is dead, is the last thought before her phone starts ringing.

 

It's Jihyo.

 

She winces even as she is not surprised. Somehow, she had hoped that the younger woman would sleep a little longer.

 

She disconnects the call and keeps walking.

 

It's better this way, she thinks and when the phone rings again, she leaves it be.

 

 

-

 

 

A game begins.

 

When Nayeon goes to work next week, she ignores Jihyo as much as she possible can. She makes it seem like she is angry at her, makes it look like it's all Jihyo's fault. As much as it hurts to watch the younger woman try to get through her newly build walls over and over, a part of her enjoys the torture.

 

She feels like she is finally in control. Dangling something between them that they both want, but not giving it to either of them.

 

This is what power must feel like.

 

Even as the grief and shock begin to lessen over time, she doesn't let go of her anger. She feels safe behind it.

 

But no matter how much she pushes Jihyo away, she never quite leaves and instead hovers somewhere close by like a guardian angel with an endless amount of love and patience for her, when she doesn't want it, let alone deserve it.

 

And just like her friend won't leave her alone at work, so the dreams and fantasies won't leave her when she is anywhere else. She wakes up countless times a night, sometimes from a nightmare where Jihyo leaves her, or takes up a destructive new habit like drinking. In the nightmares, Jihyo turns into what he was before he died. Then sometimes the dreams are ual and she wakes up drenched and ready to come, feeling acute shame as she uses her own fingers to satisfy herself.

 

Except, that it is never quite enough.

 

But she is working on it, she thinks and buries herself in to work and taking care of Kiha. Those were the things she did before, surely they can still be enough to sustain her?

 

It's better this way.

 

 

-

 

 

Months pass by and she disappears into her shell. Eventually, Jihyo stops trying to make her talk, or listen. It's a relief, yet it makes her feel incredibly empty. She has been so afraid of Jihyo letting her go that when she finally manages to push her away, it feels awful.

 

But she grits her teeth and keeps going.

 

In December, the company holds a party and Nayeon nearly dislocates her jaw when her mother tells her to go and have fun, while she'll take care of Kiha. Something about her mother seems different now, as if she is finally learning to love her daughter again, after seeing what she has been through and how hard she has worked.

 

The offer is so shocking that Nayeon is too stunned to even say no and ends up going.

 

Which she regrets almost immediately.

 

She stands all dolled up in a group of co-workers that she doesn't really belong in. It's not that she doesn't like them, or that they don't like her, but they live such different lives and think such different thoughts that she can't quite bring herself to feel comfortable.

 

At least, the drinks are all right, and she realizes, maybe a little too late, that she has gotten herself a little tipsy in order to feel a bit better. Perhaps, she does feel a little better but all the liquid she has been drinking forces her to run into the bathroom every five minutes.

 

Nayeon notices the way the music is nicely muffled by the thick walls of the bathroom and that for once in her life, she has entered one that looks and smells clean. The cleaner should get a raise, she thinks and runs into someone.

 

"I'm sorry, I did-"

 

The person happens to be the source of her many dreams and nightmares.

 

Jihyo has smoky eye makeup and a little black dress that shows off her shapely legs, and makes her look possibly ier. How is it possible? Nayeon has, after all, seen the woman before and no matter how hard she has tried to forget, she never really could.

 

She blames it on the alcohol, but she can't quite move her legs.

 

"I didn't think you'd come," Jihyo says, looking way too sober for someone so smoking hot. Not that Nayeon can really blame her for looking somber after all that has been done.

 

"Mom insisted," she explains and senses her own head clearing with every breath she takes and every second that she spends looking at the other woman.

 

"That's nice of her. How's Kiha?"

 

"He is very interested in breaking things and pulling out electric wires." They both smile for the first time in weeks, but only briefly before Jihyo turns serious again.

 

"Well, I hope you have a nice evening, I'll see you at work," she says and moves past Nayeon, the clanking of her heels on tiles sounding final.

 

Nayeon only has a second to decide.

 

She extends her hand and grabs Jihyo by the wrist. She doesn't turn her around, but only holds the wrist lightly. Jihyo doesn't turn, but she doesn't try to break free either. It is a small victory.

 

"I am sorry for the way I've been treating you," she whispers, looking at anything else but Jihyo's face.

 

"I know it's not an excuse, but... You make me so afraid."

 

Jihyo doesn't say anything but turns so that they are face to face again. Nayeon drops her gaze to the floor, unable to look Jihyo in the eye.

 

"I'm not very good at... well... many things, but especially at feelings. And you seem to bring them all out."

 

Nayeon feels a tentative brush of fingertips on the back of her hand and looks up. Jihyo's eyes are full of love, clear like water in a mountain creek, and it's terrifying that it’s still there, after everything she has done to try and wipe it away.

 

"I am not going anywhere," Jihyo says and she trusts her. Nayeon takes Jihyo's hands into her own and squeezes them, ignoring the fact that tears begin to roll down her cheeks. It's nothing that Jihyo hasn't seen before.

 

"Can we just... go slowly? I don't-" she tries, but the emotions run so high that she can't quite talk from the way her lips quiver. Jihyo lets go of her hands, only to wrap them around her shaking shoulders.

 

"Baby steps," Jihyo whispers and kisses her so gently that Nayeon can feel it like an ointment on her wary soul.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A/N: Congratulations! You have finally reached the end of the longest one-shot in this collection, as well as my sanity. The things I do to avoid studying... Also, this may or may not have been named after an iconic song by TaeTiSeo.