Sejeong fidgets with the device in her hand, turning it over with her fingers. Her eyes settle on the needle as it teeters and turns at the slightest of her movement.

Currently, she notes, it points north—or to be more precise, northwest, but that's not important. 

Sejeong spins on her heels to face the opposite side of the room. Of course, the compass moves with her, but the needle remains pointing towards the same direction. With a slight grimace on her face, Sejeong pulls open a drawer to grab a key before shuffling out of the room.

As she climbs up the stairs of her apartment building, two steps at a time because it’s faster that way, the needle continuously wobbles on its pivot point and veers to the opposite direction every time Sejeong turns at a landing. She tightens her fist around it.

It points in the direction of your soulmate, they say. It just sort of appears out of the blue one day as someone approaches adolescence. It’s practically common sense nowadays—puberty means physical changes, increased libido, and soulmate compasses.

Convenient, isn’t it? Of all stages in life, the soulmate compass appears to the person during puberty. Just fantastic. Sejeong wonders whose bright idea that was. (The universe’s, of course. Whoever's in charge of it.)

Not that she's any different from the rest though; Sejeong had her fair share of experiences in high school. Like everyone else, she once gossiped and obsessed over her soulmate compass too. She and her friends even skipped school one day to follow the needle and chase after one of their soulmates in a search that proved to be fruitless. They had made it all the way to the next town over before their car broke down. That was an eventful day, now that Sejeong thinks about it.

Sejeong had never chased after her soulmate before. Of course, it’d be a lie to say that she’s never had intentions of trying. Chasing after your soulmate has become one of those typical things anyone would include on their bucket list (amongst travelling the world, skydiving, learning a new a language, bungee jumping—it goes on).

But for Sejeong, the interest to search has died down incredibly quickly from her teens to her current stage of life in her early twenties.  

She unlocks the door with the key and enters the rooftop of her apartment complex. Technically, no one is allowed on the rooftop except maintenance, but according to Sejeong’s logic: if you have a key, then you’re entitled to whatever it unlocks. And she just happens to have a key to the rooftop (how she obtained it is a different story for another day).

Sejeong walks over to the ledge and peers down at the bustling street below her; this part of Seoul is always teeming with people at noon. Sighing, she walks over to the other side. Her building stands beside another and in between the two is a narrow alleyway. Sometimes, there are hooded figures and questionable—probably illegal—activity that occurs (Sejeong’s seen it with her own two eyes), but it's empty during daylight aside from the stray cats and the occasional scavenger digging through the dumpster.

With her soulmate compass in the palm of her hand, Sejeong holds an arm out over the ledge. She looks at the needle for the very last time—it’s pointing east now—before promptly turning her hand over and letting it fall ten storeys down.

Sejeong barely sees the instrument hit the ground from where she is, but she knows full well it broke upon impact. A wave of relief washes over her as she smiles in satisfaction.

^ ^ ^

Step by step this time around, Sejeong climbs up the stairs again with a blanket in one arm and Kim Nayoung on the other. Their heavy steps echo in the otherwise empty stairwell.

“Can’t we find a new favourite spot? Stairs drain me,” Nayoung says, panting as they turn on the ninth floor landing.

“But isn’t it always worth it once we get to the top?” muses Sejeong when she turns her head to smile at the older girl.

 “I guess so,” Nayoung says. “Exhausting, but worthwhile. Like you.” Sejeong chuckles at the remark.

“Yeah, I’m a fine piece of work,” replies Sejeong. “Nasty on some days, but only when you want me to.” She follows it with a wink and then a smirk and soon enough, Nayoung is playfully hitting her on the shoulder, muttering a ‘greasy…’ under her breath.

Sejeong unhooks Nayoung’s hand from her arm so she can hold it instead and the latter readily threads her fingers through Sejeong’s as they arrive at the highest landing.

Sejeong uses her free hand to dig through her pockets, but abruptly stops.

“I think I may have...forgotten the key,” she murmurs. Nayoung lets out the loudest sigh and is about to voice her complaints when Sejeong turns to her with her token crescent-shaped eyes. “Heh, just joking.”

She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out the key, waving it in front of Nayoung who only nudges her head towards the door (a nonverbal way of telling Sejeong to just get on with it or else Nayoung will snatch the key away). Sejeong unlocks the door and the two of them furtively slip onto the rooftop.

^ ^ ^

“Nayouuuung.”

“I think there’s a drug deal happening in the alley,” Nayoung notes as she looks over the ledge, observing two distant figures on the ground.

“Exciting,” Sejeong deadpans. “You wanna buy?”

“Yeah, let me just run ten storeys down real quick,” Nayoung replies, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Just shout at the guy from up here and drop him the money. Maybe he does drugs that enhance his strength and he’d be able to throw the baggie ten storeys up.”

Nayoung snorts at Sejeong’s comments as she turns from the ledge and approaches the younger girl. Sejeong is lying comfortably on her back on the blanket they had set down.

“No thanks. Drugs aren’t fun,” Nayoung says as she settles herself down, cross-legged, beside Sejeong. “Did I ever tell you that time Heehyun and I tried smoking ? It was a terrible experience – for me, at least. Don’t know about Heehyun.”

“You what?!” exclaims Sejeong, sending Nayoung an incredulous and disapproving look. “My lips are never touching yours ever again!”

Nayoung laughs. “What, why not?”

The other girl purses her lips, her eyes turning into slits, as she looks at the orange sky above them. “It’s gross. You know I don’t kiss smokers.”

“Oh come on. It was just once and it was a long time ago. We’ve made out tons of times ever since and you never had a problem–“

“That was before I knew!” Sejeong interrupts as she crosses her arms across her chest. “I can’t believe you smoked. I guess we’ll have to go all the way back to before first base. Limited hand holding and side hugs only.”

“Yeah, like that will last long. Both you and I know that we’ll be back to whatever base we’re currently on in no time,” Nayoung snickers, but Sejeong remains adamant.

Despite Nayoung's pouty apologies and Sejeong’s unyielding attitude, none of it is serious; the two of them know each other well enough that neither of them mean anything they are saying to the other. 

To Sejeong, something as trivial as smoking once out of absolute curiosity (because why else would Nayoung do it if she knew Sejeong didn’t like it) doesn’t even come remotely close to obstructing the high-speed train that is Sejeong and Nayoung.

To Sejeong, it feels like nothing can stop them. So many things that could possibly go wrong and yet they’ve gotten this far and they’re still going, making it through all the thunderstorms and roadblocks. Nothing has gone wrong (not yet, at least).

They’re going two hundred miles per hour and Sejeong is making the most of it, enjoying every second of the ride just in case it suddenly stops.

^ ^ ^

Nayoung’s touch sends shivers up Sejeong’s spine as the older girl traces a light finger over the back of Sejeong’s hand. From her knuckles then to her wrist and then back up again; it repeats, sometimes following the same path.

“Your hands are really veiny,” murmurs Nayoung.

 “I know. I don’t like it. Don’t pay attention to it.” Sejeong retracts her hand and covers it with the other in timid defense, but Nayoung reaches over to grab it, gently pulling it back towards her. 

“Why not? I like it,” Nayoung replies as she resumes her tracing, her eyes following the tip of her finger as it leaves an invisible trail on Sejeong’s skin.

“Really? You have a vein or something?”

Kim Sejeong, always the one to kill the mood, but that doesn’t stop Nayoung from being so mawkishly sappy at times that it makes Sejeong’s fingers curl. “Only if it’s your hand,” says Nayoung.

“Good. If I found out you were in love with someone else’s veins, I’d be devastated. My entire world will collapse, all the flowers will wither, my heart wi–”

She is interrupted by Nayoung’s abrupt chuckle. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Think what you want of it, I mean every word I say,” Sejeong replies, opening one of her closed eyes into a squint so she could peek at the other girl.

She finds Nayoung looking down – Sejeong can’t see at what, but she assumes it’s at her hands since she can still feel Nayoung’s thumb grazing her skin – with an expression Sejeong can’t read. Perhaps it’s unexplainable sentimentality or maybe even nostalgia of some past unfamiliar to either of them (or at least, unfamiliar to Sejeong).

Pretending not to see it, Sejeong closes her eyes and begins to tell a story to keep her mind from wandering towards unwanted thoughts.

She talks about how her parents lived in different cities when they were younger. Every week, they’d write a letter to each other and every once in a while, one of them would visit the other. Sejeong's mom had a fear of flying so she would always choose the exhaustingly long train ride over the much quicker plane ride.

“My mom told me that every time she got on the train, her heart would just pound restlessly. It’d drive her crazy, Nayoung! The jumbled mess of anticipation and anxiety she’d feel before the train has even left the station. It’d grow and grow and then finally, she’d arrive at her destination and he’d be there waiting for her," she says, "and then this repose would just wash over her. I think it’s something every traveller would be familiar with. It sounds exciting. Do you know the feeling?”

“I’ve never left Seoul,” Nayoung replies as she glances at Sejeong with soft eyes, “but I feel it everyday.”

^ ^ ^

The noise of scuttling passersby keeping to themselves, chatty pedestrians, and bustling after-work traffic sound like nothing but a muted reality – a faint indistinct hum ten storeys up from the rooftop of the apartment building.

Nayoung and Sejeong lie side by side on the blanket as the sky darkens into evening and the lights on the roof automatically turn on in sync with the streetlights below.

“Have you ever heard of the triangular theory of love?” asks Sejeong, breaking the relaxed silence.

“No,” Nayoung hums in reply. “Which means it must be fake.”

“It’s a real thing, I swear! Theorized by some theorist guy. Stern-something,” Sejeong insists.

“I’ll take your word for it then. What is it about?”

“Basically, there are different types of love–“

“Yeah, like eros and agape and stuff.”

“Right, but this one’s like more specific. Let me finish,” Sejeong says. “The types are all based on different combinations of three components. A relationship is strongest if it has all three.”

A pause before Nayoung replies, “I assume you want me to ask what the three components are, so go ahead and tell.”

“Intimacy, passion, and commitment.”

“How do you know this?”

“I have a lot of free time on my hands.”

“You have free time?” Nayoung asks.

“Yes. Not everyone is as busy as the great Kim Nayoung.”

“Right. I forgot. Be grateful I make time for you. Go on; which type of love are we, Professor Kim?”

Sejeong purses her lips in careful thought before coughing to clear . “I think we started off as infatuated love, if you know what I mean. Hint, it involves empty hallways and locked lecture halls and storage closets and–“

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Nayoung interrupts. “I don’t know why we always did that. There were better places. I feel like I still have bruises and not even the good kind.”

“Um, it was totally thrilling back then, admit it…but anyways,” Sejeong hastily replies in an attempt to stay on topic. “That only had one component: passion. You throw in intimacy and then it’s romantic love. I think that’s what we currently have. Don’t you agree?”

“…You’ll need to go a little deeper into the well.”

“I think we have an emotional and physical bond now. Like eros. It’s self-explanatory,” Sejeong explains. Nayoung simply hums in reply. “You’re making me sound shameless. Is that a yes, you agree?”

“Yes,” Nayoung answers. “But I think you’re just sort of hovering above the water. Like when I said to go deeper into the well, you just dipped in a toe.”

Sejeong’s perplexed eyebrows meet in the middle. “Okay…so do you use a baseball bat or do you prefer an ordinary stick to beat around the bush with?”

Nayoung scoffs. “You’re catching up to me.”

“Like you said, you make time for me. I gotta make use of it,” replies Sejeong. “To counter your smartass reply; I’m no expert. I just read whatever I find on the internet. And this is what I’ve read. So yes, I only dipped in a toe because that's as far as I can go.”

“Fair enough.”

In some unforeseen courage fostered by the open atmosphere, both literally and figuratively, and vague sentiments too unsettling for the both of them, Sejeong speaks up, “The only component we’re missing is commitment.”

A silence follows. Sejeong wonders if Nayoung is thinking up some sort of wise- remark to counter her brave decision to say a word that their generation has turned into somewhat of a taboo. Commitment; why are people so afraid of it anyways?

But instead, Nayoung says, “What is it called if all three components are present?”

“Consummate love. Um, so say infatuated love is like Charmander, consummate love is like Charizard. You know?” Sejeong says in an attempt to lighten up the conversation.

“Char–? I...don’t know what that is,” Nayoung replies.  

Sejeong shakes her head. “Did you even have a childhood? Never mind. Consummate love is like the complete form of love. It’s not very easy to achieve and maintaining it must be even harder,” she explains. “Also, I read this on the internet, but it sounds pretty legit so whatever. Apparently these couples will continue to have great fifteen years or more into the relationship. I think we’re progressing well.”

Nayoung barks out a carefree laugh. Sejeong mirrors her, half in relief at avoiding something that could’ve turned out incredibly awkward and half in genuine amusement. She threads her fingers through Nayoung’s, intertwining them into a firm and reassuring grasp.

^ ^ ^

They lie for a few short minutes (though it feels like an eternity), letting the murmur of the rest of the world swallow them as dusk slowly approaches. Sometimes, the sun takes its time to set as if it waits for unfinished conversations to end and fragmentary parts of people’s lives to repair themselves.

But more often than necessary, resolutions don’t always come. So the sun sets and gives it another day, and then another and another. It hasn’t given up yet.

“I have to tell you something.”

Nayoung opens her eyes at the sound of Sejeong’s voice and turns her head to look at the profile of the younger girl. “What is it?”

“I broke my compass,” Sejeong mumbles. "Yesterday."

“…By accident?”

Sejeong shakes her head, knowing from the corner of her eye that Nayoung is looking at her. “No. I think it’ll only break if you purposely break it. So I did.”

“Hm. So it really can break,” Nayoung says.

“It can. I mean, it's probably not meant to be broken, but then again, maybe the universe shouldn’t have made it tangible in the first place,” Sejeong replies with a small shrug. She thinks about her parents and the time her father left them to follow his needle. He hasn't returned and Sejeong thinks he never will. “Besides, it doesn’t always work out. Sometimes, the universe is wrong. Other times, it’s just a pesky homewrecker.”

“Why’d you do it?” Nayoung asks, her voice laced with unexpected curiosity and free of judgement (much to Sejeong’s comfort and relief). 

Sejeong replies, “I don't like the idea. I don’t know why it took me so long to realize. I don’t want some needle directing my love life. This whole ‘the universe already has it laid out for you’ thing is just…not my thing. They – it – whatever or whoever – doesn’t get to choose for me.”

Sejeong brings her free hand to like a megaphone, amplifying her voice as she shouts to the sky, “I choose for myself!” With her other hand, she tightens her hold around Nayoung’s. “And I choose you, Kim Nayoung!”

The pair breaks into simultaneous laughter that fills the air, zoning out the buzz of everything else like a bubble up on their little rooftop.

After a few more sudden confessions directed towards the starless sky and the occasional blinking of lights from distant airplanes overhead, the mood tones down a bit as Sejeong and Nayoung get a hold of themselves and pull back from divulging any more secrets that they already knew about each other.

As Sejeong inches closer to her, Nayoung absentmindedly toys with the instrument in her hand. She keeps her own compass with her at all times, carrying it in her bag or in her pocket. She used to even keep it around her neck, but that was a middle school trend and those days have long since passed.

“Do you want me to break my compass?” Nayoung suddenly asks as she feels Sejeong’s head rest against her shoulder.

She is met with a brief silence before Sejeong finally replies, “It’s your choice.”

Nayoung brings up her compass to her face, holding it firmly and immovably in the air as the needle slowly stops teetering on its point and settles on a direction. It points to the west; exactly two hundred and seventy degrees and exactly opposite of where Sejeong is lying right next her.

“So where is it pointing?” asks Sejeong.

“Definitely not at you,” Nayoung answers matter-of-factly, causing Sejeong to chuckle. “You don't think you'll ever regret breaking your compass?”

"I don't know, maybe I will. But right now, I don't regret it and that's all that matters."

"You don't care about your soulmate?"

“I’m not really interested in finding out who it is. What are the chances of finding them anyways? They could be halfway across the world.”

“Not an ounce of interest? No what-if’s or who-could-it-be’s?”

“Not anymore,” hums Sejeong. “And you? Are you curious?”

Nayoung ponders for a bit, gathering her thoughts before coming up with a conclusion. “Yeah. Kinda. I thought everyone would be, but I guess you’re an exception.”

“That’s me, Kim Sejeong – compass breaker, bender of the universe’s rules, thief of someone else’s soulmate,” Sejeong responds with simulated heroism.

“And you have me wrapped around your pinky. Seems like you’ve mastered the craft.”

“That's a relief to hear,” Sejeong says as she cuddles into Nayoung with a smile. “Whoever your soulmate is, they better be one hell of a catch. Like amazing. And prettier than me.” 

“Does a person like that exist?” Nayoung answers with a chuckle. “What if your soulmate comes and finds you?”

“I’ll rebuff them. Tell them I don’t have a compass,” Sejeong promptly replies. “Unless they’re cute. Maybe I’ll give them a chance,” she adds jokingly.

“Ouch. Imagine turning up at your soulmate’s doorstep after years and hundreds of miles only for them to say, ‘thanks, but no thanks’. Isn’t that a little harsh?”

“It’s not just a little harsh, it’s very harsh,” Sejeong says. Despite her words, her tone is so easy and unguarded, but it doesn't surprise Nayoung. “My turn. What if your soulmate comes and finds you? Don’t say what I want to hear, say it honestly.”

“Honestly…” Nayoung muses out loud. “I guess I’ll decide when or if it happens. I’m not making any promises.”

Sejeong knows what promises she means; promises to stay with Sejeong, promises to search for her soulmate, promises to choose, promises to stop the train. There’s no point in making promises if they will only end up being broken.

So Sejeong simply hums and Nayoung takes it as satisfaction in her honest reply – or maybe Sejeong is just tired. It’s getting late anyways; the sky darkened without them even realizing. Maybe the sun was too worn out to wait for anybody today. Save it for tomorrow and whatnot. Nayoung agrees.

“I don’t want to think about it either,” Sejeong replies like she read Nayoung’s mind. “A lot of so-called soulmates end up in empty love. That’s one of the types in the triangular theory. It’s just commitment. No passion, no intimacy. It’s like you’re only together just for the hell of it! Just because your needle happens to point at each other! Just because they feel like they have to be together. It’s like an arranged marriage. Or a long-lasting relationship that has fizzled out, but now it’s too late to back out. Doesn’t it sound sad?”

“It does,” Nayoung concurs. Her eyes bore into the compass she holds in front of her face. “But sometimes, it really does end up in consummate love.” She sighs. “I've been having the same thoughts as you lately and honestly, I think I want to break my compass too. But at the same time, I don’t. I can’t. I don’t know.”

“...I understand. It’s not easy. Like you said, it could end up working out. It’s that glimmer of hope, that thrill of knowing there’s someone somewhere in the world who is supposed to be just for you and only you, the temptation to search, the desire to find out. I know all about it.”

“You know about it better than I do and yet you’re the one who broke their compass,” Nayoung remarks, chuckling.

Sejeong shrugs. “That’s why I found it so easy to break.”

Nayoung huffs, unsure of what to say and unsure of what she wants to hear. “Why do these damn compasses have to be such a big deal?” She puts her compass on the ground to the side and turns to look down at the crown of Sejeong’s head resting against her shoulder. She reaches over to hold the younger girl’s face, her other hand still firmly interlaced with Sejeong’s. “Sejeong, tell me something.”

“What do you want to hear?” Sejeong mumbles. Nayoung can feel her warm breath against her wrist.

“Anything. Assure me,” Nayoung says without hesitation.

“Assure you of what?”

“I don’t know. Just say anything that comes to your mind. You always know the right thing to say to me.”

Sejeong searches her thoughts. She knows what to say, she’s just hesitant about how to express it and which words to pick and choose. Nayoung’s thumb grazes over her cheek in a touch that is ghostly, but gentle, giving Sejeong the push to say what she has been wanting to ever since she bid farewell to her own compass.

“Well…we can run together. Not run away because that never ends well. Just…run. Together,” Sejeong says in a quiet voice. They're the only ones on the rooftop and yet she whispers like they’re surrounded by ears. “You don’t have to break your compass.  You can run from it though. Run the opposite direction. If you want.”

Her sentences are short and prompt, but Sejeong figures that this is the easiest way to get her point across.

Knowing from the caress of her hands that Nayoung is listening attentively, Sejeong continues, “I’ll be here. In the opposite direction. We can run together for however long you want. There’s a lot of years left in our lives, Nayoung,” a brief pause, “Maybe you’ll want to break it in the future.”

Sejeong is met with silence. She waits for Nayoung’s reply, but it seems like the hectic hum from the streets below just continues to grow louder. The sun has long since set. Sejeong searches her head for more words – perhaps Nayoung wants to hear more – but is interrupted by movement as she is about to pour her thoughts out.

Nayoung takes her hand off of Sejeong’s cheek and the latter feels a sudden loss of courage, but then she hears the sound of a palm patting the ground as Nayoung searches for the compass she had put aside in the dark.

When Nayoung feels the cool metal against her fingers, she grabs it.

And then she throws it – at what direction, she isn’t sure, but it’s up and away – and when they don’t hear it fall anywhere near them, the two conclude that it has gone over the edge and is falling ten storeys down.

“Let’s run then,” Nayoung says with a grin after Sejeong had put her head up to look at her with wide eyes.

Sejeong lets out a gleeful laugh, her eyes curving into crescents. “Okay. Alright. Let's do it. Tomorrow, though. I’m a little sleepy right now.”

In a fit of giggles, they nestle into each other in anticipation of the inevitable sunrise. It'll take hours, but they’re willing to wait. 

And when the sun has finally woken up for another day, Nayoung and Sejeong will be up there on the rooftop ten storeys up, ready to share the news before they take each other's hand and run the opposite direction.