A middle finger to space was the most appropriate action Nayoung mustered up in her seat. Simply watching from the grim reflection on the glass, the only thing returned back to her was the pitiful continual view of nothingness. Her hands returned back to the keyboard, gaze strained to a bright lit screen. Afflicted frustration growled out between her lips, arms crossed along her chest. She leaned forward in between typing a message to the control station back down on earth and debating whether or not to throw herself out to the open void.

If there was going to be another day of her writing about the dull still conditions of space, she’d rather do the job of flinging herself into the sun instead.

She ran her fingers across the keys, another sigh escaping out . In the end after minutes of staring at the mocking gleam of the monitor, she pushed back out of her seat. When the sole of her shoes scraped the floors with a squeak, she gained the attention of the other girl.

“Where you goin’?”

Behind her was the oldest, the mistaken to be youngest, Mimi. She wasn't much of a worker either, same to the amount procrastination and lame jokes. Easily bored when alone, tired to be around, Nayoung never thought there would be someone like her to be fit for the job. The last thing she needed was for the ISS to smash headfirst into earth all under the hands of Mimi’s. She watched the older perch her chin on the palm of her hand, leaning slightly towards the side.

“I'm gonna black out for awhile.” Nayoung’s answer was quick as her eyes trailed to another member of their crew. Silently working on her research was Haebin, back turned to the two of them. More less she was looking like a drained out single mom of four kids, most likely done with all the ty things Nayoung and Mimi pulled.

“Okay,” hints of disappointment from Mimi, there was no other objection to her calling out early from Haebin too.

Nayoung pressed the off button on her computer, ready to head to her bunk. From a single touch, the screen submerged black. The rest of her clicking steps pound in her head and she's already kicking off her shoes. She trudged in, looks only thrown towards her bed. Her face planted first on the pillow as she lay flat on her stomach in unkempt covers. Nayoung wrapped the disheveled blankets over her, hips adjusted to the side. In the silence and the dark, she sighed one last time before drowning in slumber.

The moment her eyes close, mind in a trance,  everything always ended up revolving, pulling, and drifting around something—someone.

Eyes fluttered open in a dream or a replay of a memory, the returning scent of newly cut grass arising, green between her fingers. And there Nayoung was being the same thirteen year old girl again. A dream and a flashback all in one, the lucid movements of reliving the moment was a thrill. It was strange how she remembered so clearly, down on every detail.

Nayoung missed the smell of summer nights, gentle breeze against her face, vibrant colors of varied lights, and the very strings of familiar voices calling for her. Though the list could go on and on—off into the oblivion, Nayoung especially missed her. Epitome of contagious smiles there was Kim Sejeong. The one who thirteen year old Kim Nayoung could never think of falling in love. Only appalled by the same interest the younger girl had, Nayoung remembered little Sejeong; clothed in a yellow summer dress and filled with bubbling laughter.

She reminisced the swings, the open field across the park, and her quiet evergreen backyard, pink roses grown on the side.

Swings; Nayoung met her on the swings, recently turned thirteen, still in those atrocious braces. She’s made up of navy blue tees, white shorts, and dirtied kicks. Aspirations in searching for the next galaxy, up alight in a new gravity, Nayoung was the constant believer of an unrealistic wish.

Sejeong was the bright yellow on her dress, alive with color, glimmered in wide lopsided grins. Probably accepted honeysuckles as gifts, thought plum blossom was poetic, and she’d paint her walls periwinkle. Unwavered, carefree, from the corner of Nayoung’s eye, that's what she seemed.

But she wasn't.

Underneath a new night sky, a bottle of released stars, crescent moon, Nayoung saw her first shooting star—Sejeong was there too. Blades of grass tickled their exposed arms and legs as they laid in the field across from the park. Nayoung had always kept this interest of the stars, the moon, the planets, and when Sejeong mentioned she does too, Nayoung’s thrown adrift.

Before there's more to say, she's called in for dinner, but she made sure to come back next time.

They started planning hangouts, all in Nayoung’s backyard and Sejeong’s favorite bush of pink roses. It's dominated with talks of space, rocket ships, black holes, the unavoidable aliens to ufo sightings. Then Sejeong mentioned astronauts with a intertwine of their pinkies to keep a promise together.

By the time things fade to black, Nayoung’s awoken with a throbbing headache. No grass, no summer, no scent of burned charcoal or hints of sandalwood—nothing but the realization she's millions of miles away from home.

“Anybody got painkillers?”

“No.”

Face pressed up against a table, Nayoung whined once more. A container of water is pushed in front of her, Haebin’s voice ringing in her ears.

“You should drink some water.”

“Good idea, so I can drown myself.”

“I wouldn't if I were you,” Mimi got up from her seat, “We wouldn't want your wife to find out you’re dead.”

“Would she even know?”

“But today’s the video chatting session.”

Nayoung perked up, peeling off from the table. “Wait, that’s today? Today's the day?” Every spark enlightened across her face. Her eyes scattered back and forth her two crew members in excitement.

“Yeah.” Haebin rolled her eyes.

“Mimi you hear that? I get to see my wife!” Nayoung pumped a fist in the air. “Headache no more.”

A laugh pitched out from Mimi’s lips. “We get to do this every month. But thank god, right? Seeing my mom’s face I realize how I'm sick of seeing you two.”

“How much longer though?”

Haebin flicked her index finger up. “One hour.”

A monthly routine, a breath of fresh air, the video chat was Nayoung’s idea of falling in love again. It was a short hour of talking with relatives, friends, family, something she awaited the first day of every month before it was time for her departure off of the ISS.

She took deep breaths, composed herself, a hand on the rupturing beat beneath her chest. And in a blink she's greeted with Sejeong, a toothy smile, bright even through the screen in front of her.

“You’ve aged a lot in a month,” Sejeong’s voice crackled past, evident teasing in her voice.

Crossed arms, unwavering smile, Nayoung scoffed. “Same goes for you,” she squinted, “I can already see your wrinkles piling up on top of each other.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“So how’s everything?”

Sejeong released a small sigh. “Oh, the usual. Mina’s at school, I'm off from work. What about you?”

“The work here is getting pretty monotonous and this piece of metal I'm in is still rotating around earth—oh and tell Mina that mom’s still alive,” Nayoung leaned back with a grin, “I'd love to throw myself into the sun right now though, but I can't.”

Sejeong gasped. “But the Kim Nayoung I know would never pass up that opportunity.”

“Well, if you were the sun, I'd gladly love to burn to death.”

“God, shut up.” Through the speaker her voice sounded, bustling in the room. An unconscious smile stretched on her lips as she tried to hide it away behind her hand.

“I know you love it when I say things like this,” Nayoung pestered, her fingers jabbing towards the screen in a playful manner. “Two more months and you’ll hearing more of this.”

“Oh boy, I can't wait.”

Sixteen. Nayoung knew when she was sixteen, days were murdered with unnecessary hard work. Junior year had been a roar of events, any typical high school drama rerun. Your average girls with average looks, twisted with unwanted relationships, feigned with limited patience. Nayoung remembered high school well. Her looks shot back in the mirror with drowsy eyes, indented frowns, deep gray, and an embarrassing slouch to fix. Within all that were reports, exams, wishful futures crammed in the end.

But in altered rotations, something’s fallen out of orbit when Sejeong kissed her first. Curiosity built upon wandering touches, hormones revved teenagers and innocent predicaments with the meaning of destiny. Experiences were what ran through the head of a sixteen year old that maybe what she and Sejeong had was a beginning to an unmentioned relationship—just maybe.

And it was a sticky hot summer afternoon Nayoung remembered the most. The a/c blasted, melting ice cream bars stuck in their mouths while the buzzing cicadas invaded wanted silence.

“Was it you who wore that awful cardboard cutout of an  astronaut helmet?”

Sejeong covered her face behind her hand. “I don't what you’re talking about.”

“Are you sure, because I remember twelve year old Sejeong saying we’d be space pals, cardboard on her head.” Nayoung bit the last piece of ice cream off the popsicle.

“Cut me some slack, I was twelve.”

“Space gal pals though. I have to admit that sounds cool.” She raised her arms up in the air before plopping down on the hardwood floor. “Traveling across the solar system, living on Mars, loving each other till the day they are to be into the inevitable black hole.” Gentle breaths release of comfort with a content smile perched on her lips.

Soft chuckles left Sejeong, crawling up underneath Nayoung’s skin. “Yeah, okay.”

“C’mon, you’ve gotta agree. It's not a bad idea.”

A sarcastic tone lifted upon Sejeong’s words. “Being perished in a black hole as my death. Fun.”

“If it was with me–”

“No way.”

There were plastic stars that hung from the ceiling in Sejeong’s room. Green, distasteful glow in the dark lime green, but in the unlit room it’s immersive, absolutely hypnotizing.

Nayoung would ask: “Where'd you get them from?”

Beneath the duvet she’d whisper: “Found them in the basement.”

So sometimes when Nayoung slept over she’d dream of a supernova of green hues, a jar kept of shooting stars, her ears catching built static. It definitely felt unreal, a translucent feeling to her body, her hands grabbing nothing but thin air.

Then she'd wake up, sunlight past the blinds, Sejeong by her side.

“They’re extending our stay here,” Haebin started, her fingers clicking away against the keyboard.

Mid-sip into her coffee, Nayoung pulled the cup away from her lips, settling it down on the counter in front. “What?” Her voice echoed loud.

Mimi joined by Haebin’s side, looked over her shoulder to the monitor. “Four more months?” Mimi grimaced, “are you kidding me?” Frustrated dabbling fingers run through her hair.

Counting from her fingers, the two months they originally had added to an extra four more months—six more dreadful months in total.

Nayoung told her the next time she saw her, disappointment lingering.

“Six more months, Sejeong.”

“I can wait.”

“You’re okay with that?”

“Of course,” her smile grew, deepened in wondrous patience. “I'll wait for you no matter how long. Even if you’re millions and millions of miles away, I'll be right by your side in the end.”

Nayoung smiled; laughed.

“How romantic of you.”

Maybe Nayoung should've told her that from the beginning. She should've waited for her too.

Nineteen, back on the swings, they felt much more smaller to Nayoung than before.

“Do you still remember that promise we made?” Sejeong asked first, hands gripped on the metal chain of the swing.

“Of course,” Nayoung breathed out.

“You’re still keeping it, right?”

“Why wouldn't I?”

The chains clatter. “I was afraid you’d forget and leave, you know?”

“Even if I try to leave, I feel like I’d always end up coming back to you, even if we're millions and millions of miles away.” Nayoung snickered. “When I'm broke and homeless, you’re my number one go-to.”

Sejeong’s fingers curled. “I'm not letting you in.”

“You forgot her thirteenth birthday, Nayoung. You told Mina you would call her then.”

Loss for words, her tongue’s numb.

“This isn't the first time you forgot important dates. Nayoung just don't make promises if you can't keep them.”

A nimble sorry slips in between somewhere, breathless and quiet.

“She told me sometimes–”

What. What did she tell you?

“–she wonders if you actually care. It seems like you forget she's your daughter too.”

You’re right. You're right. You're right.

Nayoung swallowed everything back, the bitterness, the sudden vile words, and another apology.

“I do care.”

The last time Nayoung had been in her apartment, it's futile. Break-ups weren't her thing—no, it wasn't even a break up. It was simply an intentional refusal. She barely knew them anyway.

She thought a runaway during summer would have been a good idea. Out from college, matured as adults. She could get lost during night time, drown in neon ebbed lights, live the age of a youth, but all she came back home with was a headache and the ungodly bittersweet scent of alcohol on her shirt.

Three knocks on her front door, knuckles against the surface is what Nayoung woke up to. Wished she hadn't. And under the migraine, lurching swirl of her stomach, the last thing Nayoung wanted see was Sejeong. However the door swung open, and there she was tear fallen in scattered red.

Sejeong grew up far better, sweet and pretty. (Nayoung was the sheen imperfection in her life). But when Sejeong appeared at her door there was this unbalance, something wrong after their crossed paths. The girl without imperfections, joined together in perfections shattered. The one who let her herself be whisked away by any lover, enveloped in thousands of fate spoken letters. Her universe was filled starlit bright promises, all from Nayoung and Nayoung did too. That’s until Sejeong told her she was pregnant only to let Nayoung’s universe stop altogether.

Out of orbit, they collide again.

Four more months till she’s out from the ISS. Four more months to figure out an apology. Four months in space.

There had to be a perfect schedule, a time to speak to Mina. Often when the video call is set up, Mina’s in school, Sejeong left to answer. Slight happiness and lost chances.

The third month couldn’t have been better.

“Where’s Mina?”

Sejeong sighed. “In her room.”

“Do you think,” she bit down on her bottom lip, “do you think she’d agree to talk to me?”

“It’d be easy to persuade her.” Sejeong got up. “I’ll be back.” Nayoung heard very subtle click of the door, footsteps distancing. A complaint and a whine filtered out from somewhere, probably Mina’s.

“Mom, I said don’t want to,” Mina’s voice came off screen.

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” Sejeong ushered her.

Nayoung felt her rib cages shrink a few times smaller, a corset too small for her to breathe when Mina plopped down on the chair. Eyes were averted, a misplaced frown on her lips as the displeasure for her to speak to Nayoung showed.

The words hanging helplessly on Nayoung spilled immediately. “I'm so sorry.”  

Silence held on the air, Mina’s gaze slowly flickering up.

“I’m sorry too.”

You’re giving up your entire future for a child?

Nayoung was bound to selfishness, blowing smoke of immaturity. Her early twenties fumed with regret, knuckles braced with pent up stress. How was she supposed to take care of a friend, someone she loved, a child without a father’s name. Was it so easy to say yes because she was tied to Sejeong’s circle of close friends or was it the crawling hands of loneliness creeping up to her.

Did you even love me?  

Did she? Were those spewed I love yous platonic or romantic—she wouldn't know amidst the kisses. Maybe it was because they were young, youthful teenagers taking on new experiences. Just when Sejeong’s off with another, holding on with other’s, Nayoung congratulated her and when Sejeong came back in need, she accepted her instantly, open arms, easy to crumble.

That was Nayoung’s problem, she’s driven by romantic lunacy.

The call with Mina ended with a lighter feeling in her chest and reminisced laughter they shared. She expected a pour of salt tears, juvenile anger with spoonfuls of ignorant bliss. Things got better; they’re family after all.

Rest of the months flew by, the marked date to return back to Earth ahead. The spacecraft they're in, attached to the ISS detached, a professional cheer from the three as it signaled an end to their expedition, her first expedition.

She was an astronaut from the start of a childish dream, a twine of two pinkies in a promise. Funny, how neither the promise or wish of a thirteen year old came to be. Finding a next galaxy? Up alight in a new gravity? Nayoung was a mere researcher up in space, placed on the very International Space Station.

A small smile stretched on her lips.

“Welcome back home guys.”

In a blink she’s greeted with warm sunlight tinged on her skin, a luring invitation back home. A metallic key rings around, pressed tight between two fingers, her forefinger and thumb. It slipped through the lock easily, a deep inhale, a twist of the key to a loud exhale. Nayoung pursed her lips to the incredulous unstoppable smile stretching on her lips. It'd be a surprise she told herself. Quietly, the door opened with one inward push, frissons going down about her spine.

Home. She was home.

Even galaxies and galaxies away, even if she’s millions and millions of miles away, Nayoung would always come back.

Once more she'd let them collide again, out of orbit.

_________________

a/n: ahhh sorry for the long wait

It seems a little rushed? But i hope it was worth it.