[A/N]: No, don't be freaked out. I just changed my username from iwanttoeatmac to hudefive, that's all. Happy reading!

Hyejeong was at another of her phone-clearing escapades again, sighing at how more and more common such exercises were. It used to be just once every 2 or so months that she had to clear stuff on her phone to make more space, but it was now in once every week territory. Why did I have to be such a cheapskate, Hyejeong cursed to herself. I could have just spent 30 dollars more and I would have had 8 more gigabytes. But now I have subjected myself to this torture that is soo not worth.

She sighed once more in frustration as she realised that just clearing the junk on her phone wasn’t nearly enough download Pokemon Go. Or whatever Korean version was replacing it until Nintendo officially included Korea into it. She was never really a Pokemon, or a Nintendo person for that matter, but all her students were playing it, and she didn’t really want to be that one teacher who everybody called out of touch.

Hyejeong decided to go for her photo gallery first. She had a habit of taking a copious amount of pictures—selfies, pictures of ridiculous homework answers she promised herself to see again and laugh at but never actually bothered to see again, pictures of random flowers by the roadside she promised herself to upload to Insta when she had wifi but never did. Tl;dr a lot of waste.

It’s not Hyejeong needed to rush anything anyway; on the contrary, she heard from somewhere (Big Bang Theory?) that doing an activity requiring no brain use was the best way to relax. And/or to think through some major issues. And Hyejeong had a major issue on her hands, alright.

Why didn’t Seolhyun turn up to school that day? As Hyejeong flipped through her gallery, letting herself chuckle a little at an Economics paper, which her colleague showed her, which believed that the invisible hand was some sort of magic, or a small sigh at the picture of a cute pigeon she took a few days back, the cloud of Seolhyun’s absence still hung heavy over her head. Was it what she said? Or didn’t say? Did Seolhyun suffer a relapse? Questions, thoughts, visions, swirled around in her head, some positive, most coloured by fear. Fear of what could happen. She flipped to a picture of Jungshin, from CNBLUE, a group that she stanned really hard. One that would usually make her fawn in delight and forget her worries, but one which didn’t work today.

She knew that Seolhyun was unstable and all, and yet she knew that she had a duty to stand by her commitment. And yet as her hand swiped deeper and deeper into her gallery’s history—she hadn’t cleared this thing in over a year—her mind feel deeper and deeper into speculation. Speculation of Seolhyun harming herself again. Speculation of Seolhyun friendless, alone, crying in the corner of a dark alley. Speculation…of the worst.

And then she froze. Her rhythmic hand movements of swipe—delete—confirm halted, her hands falling weakly to her side. Her phone collapsed through the air, cutting through the short distance between her hand and her nightstand, falling onto it with a clunk. Her legs, though supported by the chair and the ground, felt like it was reduced to mush. Emotions, recollections, memories overloaded her senses, overwhelmed her being, took control over her soul.

For she swiped onto the series of selfies that she took with Seolhyun at the amusement park all those days ago.

The happiness she felt then, the wist she felt now.

The comfort she felt then, the awkwardness she felt now.

The elation she felt then, the absolutely y feeling of failure she felt now.

She felt her heart do somersaults, beating erratically, at the mere thought of the days she spent what seemed now like eons ago. How at home she felt in Seolhyun’s arms. Just how natural it seemed.

Hyejeong knew then how cruel she was being, not only to Seolhyun, but as she realised then, herself. But as she steeled her heart, she knew that that instant had to be the last.

Shin Hyejeong knew that she was being so, so cruel.

And yet she had to. And yet she must.

-----

Seolhyun finally called that evening, around the time when Hyejeong was preparing her dinner (who was she kidding, it was just cooking instant noodles). She had recovered from that temporary meltdown earlier, and assured herself that it was natural in her process of becoming stronger. Much like how even the most conscience-less people today had suffered breakdowns before in the past.

Okay. Bad analogy. But you get the point.

Her hand hovered over her phone, not really sure whether to pick it up. Whenever her hand lowered onto the reject button, there was some feeling, incisive, painful, that prevented her from lowering her hand fully. She couldn’t really place what it was. It surely wasn’t out of guilt, that’s for sure, and yet that feeling was foreign to her. Something that she really couldn’t decipher.

And so she decided to accept the call.

“Ms…Ms Shin?” Hyejeong paused her actions (she was about to dump some seasoning into the pot), and concerned welled up within her. The voice was weak. Timid. Desperate, even.

Hyejeong’s fear overrode all her sense of dignity, and all her concern was fused into her panicked response. “How are you? Are you okay? Why didn’t you come to school today? Are you hurt? Did you hurt yourself?” those questions shot out of , and Hyejeong couldn’t remember the last time she spoke so fast.

Hyejeong heard a light chuckle from the other end of the receiver, and felt a tad betrayed. Why was she the only one so afraid amongst the two of them? “Calm down, Ms Shin. Why are you so worried? Unless,” Seolhyun dropp