Instead of an urgent kiss like before, Seulgi leaned in gently this time, carefully pressing their foreheads together as if Irene was some fragile doll that would shatter upon any touches. 

What she was really afraid was that it was all a dream.

She was afraid that she didn’t really kiss Irene, that she wasn’t sharing this moment with Irene. 

If she awakes to it being a dream, she wouldn’t know how much more alive can she be on the inside. 

Her voice cracked, her mind empty and her tears fell again.

“Kiss me.” She hated how desperate she was. “Kiss me so I know it’s not a dream, unnie.” 

***