+a/n: AO3 user fallenstarsx has kindly made an angsty playlist for this fic (thanks bb <3). Click here.

1.)

“I don’t love you,” Chaeyoung says and everything starts to come crashing down.

The room is barely illuminated by the dim light of the muted television. The figures on the television screen are speaking but Chaeyoung hears nothing but the drumming of her own dysfunctional heart. Her arms remain slack by her side but her hands are tightly clenched into fists. The girl in front of her is biting down on her lower lip harshly, looking like she might cry. The soft light caresses her cheeks, like a silent consolation. Even in the partial darkness, Chaeyoung can see that the light in the girl’s eyes that once seemed so bright is now faint, like the waning flame of a candle in the wind.

Neither of them says anything. Even so, the silence has never seemed so loud. Knowing that her voice will shake if she speaks, Chaeyoung just sinks her nails into the flesh of her palm, the pain anchoring her to reality. Her vision is getting blurry and she can feel the wetness trailing down her own face. Chaeyoung can barely see a wet shimmer in the girl’s eyes and she wonders if her own eyes reflect the same ache she is seeing right now.

She still looks so painfully beautiful.

The girl blinks and her pink soft lips part slightly in disbelief at the tears rolling down her cheeks. She looks at Chaeyoung with eyes that scream of anguish and hurt, like a silent cry for help. Even so, beyond the tears, Chaeyoung can still see love in them and that is the stake that drives through her heart. She wants to hug her, wipe the girl’s tears away and maybe tell her that she loves her. Chaeyoung’s arm jerks in response and she needs to still her own arm which will not listen to her. She just presses her nails deeper into her skin because she knows she no longer has the right to wipe the girl’s tears anymore.

The girl lets out a bitter chuckle before wiping her tears with her sleeve, “I know.”

The words claw at Chaeyoung’s heart and it takes everything in her to fight the urge to yell and scream. Her chest tightens and she inhales deeply, trying to get her heart to function right.

“I don’t love you, Mina,” Chaeyoung repeats monotonously. (The person she is trying to convince is really herself and not Mina.)

Her chest tightens even further, almost as if her heart knows how much of a lie those words are and how much it pains the both of them. Chaeyoung doesn’t know why she has to say those words a second time when it already hurts the first time. has gone dry but the tears do not stop. She doesn’t have the right to cry, not when she is the one doing the hurting.

Mina tries a laugh again but it comes out all wrong, somewhere in between a choke and a sob, “I know.”

It breaks the spell cast upon them and Mina backs away like she can no longer withstand Chaeyoung’s suffocating presence before retreating into her room, the door closing shut softly. (Even in her grief, everything that Mina does is still so gentle.) Chaeyoung feels her knees buckle and her legs give way, collapsing on the couch. The television just continues to flash its muted light, but all Chaeyoung can see is the dying light in Mina’s eyes.

She wipes her tears, laughing and cursing when she feels the moisture on the tips of her fingers. She notices the red crescent moons on her palm and she wonders why the marks don’t sting her as much as they should have.

The aftermath of a disaster, Chaeyoung just chuckles once again, feeling the tears course down her cheeks as she whispers to herself, “No, you will never know.”

2.)

Everything seems to remind Chaeyoung of Mina.

Even the raindrops that cascade down her face are a throbbing reminder of the tears that she saw. She shivers as the wind brushes against her, her soaked clothes sticking to her skin. Her newly bought shoes are drenched and they already appear worn out. It strikes a chord within Chaeyoung. Maybe it is because it is strangely reminiscent of all her attempts to move on (and all ending in failure). People are looking at her with disapproving eyes and she doesn’t blame them – she must look like a mess. (She feels like a mess, too.)

She spots Jungyeon in the café they are supposed to meet. Jungyeon is never punctual, she is always late and Chaeyoung, her best friend for more than five years, can vouch for that. Even Nayeon, Jungyeon’s childhood friend, can probably testify to that too.

Jungyeon is earlier than usual and Chaeyoung knows why. As she enters the café, a bell rings, signalling her arrival. The café staffs give her dirty looks because of her dripping clothes that are leaving puddles on the floor. She makes her way to Jungyeon and she sees how completely dry Jungyeon is as compared to her entirely wet self. She spots a pink umbrella in a corner that she recognizes – it belongs to Mina. Averting her eyes, she ignores its existence and sits opposite Jungyeon, the latter’s attention snapping to her instantly.

“You look like a disaster,” Jungyeon comments, passing her tissues to dry herself.

Chaeyoung only chuckles wryly at her friend’s choice of words, rejecting the tissues because she knows she will end up drenched again after this. Jungyeon pushes a cup of coffee to Chaeyoung and she recognizes that it’s caramel coffee, her favourite. She sips the warm beverage, blinking in surprise at how her heart wrings at the familiar taste.

The caramel coffee seems to have a bigger bite than before and she remembers the first time she bought it for the girl she is in love with.

(“So what did you get for me?”

“You said to surprise you so I bought you my favourite caramel coffee.”

“That’s not a surprise anymore, then. I’ve drunk it countless times.”

“Since when did you like caramel coffee?”

“Since you told me it was your favourite.”)

Hands are waving in front of her and she realizes that Jungyeon is looking at her weirdly. She clears before focusing her thoughts on her friend instead. Jungyeon just shrugs it off before leaning forward excitedly.

“So did you ask Mina about it?”

The question triggers a flood of memories that overwhelm Chaeyoung, the girl needing to claw at her wet jeans in order to gain some semblance of control. She plasters a forced smile before proceeding to spew the prefabricated lies she weaved before entering the café.

“She said she likes you,” Chaeyoung lies through her teeth and she wonders when lying became so easy while telling the truth became so difficult.

Jungyeon nearly jumps in her seat as soon as she hears the lie. A hand flies to as she gasps in welcome surprise.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I actually have a chance. I really have to thank you for introducing me to your roommate,” Jungyeon says, patting Chaeyoung’s shoulder lightly in thanks. “What do you think I should do now? Should I ask her on a date, or is that too soon?”

Chaeyoung regrets introducing the both of them, because if not for her best friend, maybe she could have accepted Mina’s confession. But who is she kidding, really? It’s not Jungyeon’s fault for falling for Mina. It is her own fault for being too cowardly to fight for Mina and Chaeyoung knows that Mina doesn’t deserve someone like her, someone who is too passive and afraid.

Chaeyoung only smiles, lips pressed into a thin line as she replies, “It’s up to you. I think it would be okay either way.”

Jungyeon doesn’t notice anything amiss about the curt replies, far too absorbed in her own world. She starts raving about the different ways she might confess to Mina and it only reminds Chaeyoung of that night when Mina confessed to her (and Chaeyoung breaking Mina’s heart to bits). She tries not to think about that night because she thinks that if she believes it doesn’t exist, maybe it really won’t exist. But the memory invades her like a disease at random times, rendering her weak and heart-sick immediately.

Chaeyoung interrupts Jungyeon, wanting to be alone, because she cannot stand looking at the person who actually deserves Mina, “I need to leave. I have somewhere to be.”

“Oh,” Jungyeon finally looks at Chaeyoung. “Take this umbrella then. Wouldn’t want you to get sick.”

Chaeyoung thinks she is already sick so she just rejects her friend, “It’s okay.”

Her friend frowns in disapproval, shaking her head as she insists, “It’s Mina’s anyway. You’re living with her so give it back to her for me.”

“It doesn’t belong to me. She gave it to you so it’s yours,” Chaeyoung blurts, leaving the café quickly so that Jungyeon doesn’t force her to take the pink umbrella.

Standing in the pouring rain again, the rain is so loud; she can hardly hear her own throbbing heart. She figures it is a good thing that the ache is temporarily muted by the rain. At least she can’t hear the silent cries of her own heart as it pounds against her ribcage violently.

///

When she reaches home, she sees Mina studying in the living room. Papers filled with music notes are scattered on the coffee table and Mina is on the floor, glasses hanging on her nose bridge and a pen in her hand, busy sketching a new dance choreography. A memory flashes in Chaeyoung’s mind, one that seems so far away.

(“I don’t get why a dance major needs to know all this music theory. This feels like high school all over again. Do you see me using algebra since high school ended?”

“It’s just one module on music theory, Mina. It’s easy.”

“It’s easy because you’re a music major, you stupid genius composer.”

“Will you still hate me if I help you?”

“I can never hate you. You know that.”)

The girl looks too beautiful, too smart, and too kind. She tucks a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, the act so feminine and delicate, Chaeyoung feels her heart twist. As she locks the door behind her, Mina looks at her with unadulterated pain in her eyes, but at least she tries a smile.

“Chaeng, how’s Jungyeon doing?”

“Good,” she replies curtly.

They have learned the intricate dance of avoidance and pretence, knowing how to tip-toe around eggshells with each other. It was a non-verbal agreement, one in which they act as if no one had confessed, or no one had rejected. (Even so, Mina always looks at Chaeyoung with eyes that hold a dangerous mixture of love and hurt, the clarity of it all nearly making Chaeyoung’s vision blur.) There has always been a kind of magnetism between them that even Chaeyoung cannot deny, getting into closer proximity when they pulled, and getting further away when they pushed.

Chaeyoung takes the white towel hanging on a dining chair, drying herself off with it. It doesn’t even take her a second to know that Mina prepared it for her, because Mina is someone whose actions speak louder than words. She shouldn’t take it – she doesn’t have any right to take it – but she does anyway, like the selfish person that she is.

“Thanks for this,” Chaeyoung says, raising the towel.

“You didn’t take an umbrella out. I would have lent you mine but it’s with Jungyeon,” Mina pauses before continuing, “Why didn’t you take mine from Jungyeon? I’m sure she would have given it to you.”

Chaeyoung just smiles, “I shouldn’t take what’s not mine.”

There is a flash of realization in Mina’s eyes upon hearing Chaeyoung’s words. The girl just stares at Chaeyoung blankly, like she just had some kind of epiphany. For a moment, the thought that Mina might know of her feelings briefly surfaces, but quickly gets buried because Mina just purses her pink lips and shrugs before turning back to her work. Chaeyoung still sees the hurt, mixed with some other emotion she cannot identify.

 “Instant noodles tonight, right?” Chaeyoung asks.

It is their routine to grab dinner every night together, but they both can hardly cook to save their lives, so dinner rotates according to a schedule. Sometimes it’s ramen, sometimes it’s pizza. It could also be Chinese takeway or Mina’s favourite yukhoe.

Chaeyoung doesn’t know why she desperately still clings on to this routine. (Perhaps it’s because it’s the only thing that is holding them together.)

She knows how much it must pain Mina, simply just by being around her. But Chaeyoung is selfish and far from a saint, so she gives in to her heart’s greed by making Mina stay as a friend. It only makes Chaeyoung feel even more like a terrible person.

Mina turns to her, pushing up her glasses, lips parted midway like she wants to say something. Chaeyoung panics internally, heart hammering away violently. But it seems like Mina decides not to say whatever is on her mind, the corner of her lips lifted into a thin smile instead.

“Right.”

The answer is more of a confirmation to Chaeyoung – that Mina isn’t leaving her, that she’s still going to stay. Her heart slows down in relief but nothing takes away the wrenching of her heart. She withdraws into her room like a coward and makes sure her door is shut, keeping Mina out of the confines of her room (but ironically always keeping her within the confines of her own heart.)

She is about to go shower when she passes by a photo on her desk. Picking it up gingerly, she brings it closer and she stares at the photo of her and Mina, taken on the day they celebrated Mina’s birthday. In the picture, they have their arms around each other, Mina’s arm slung over her shoulder while Chaeyoung’s hand lingers on Mina’s waist. They both look happy in the photo, back when things were simpler and nothing hurt. Now Chaeyoung has nothing but memories to hold.

Even so, the photograph in her hand feels too heavy.

She studies herself in the picture and she questions how Mina doesn’t know when the look in her eyes says it all. Chaeyoung looks at Mina like a love letter with every word spelt out for her and the girl she loves still does not know.

Putting the photograph down, a brief notion of admitting her feelings arises, only to be crushed by the thought of Jungyeon. She swallows as she thinks of Jungyeon and the pink umbrella and how it doesn’t belong to her and never will