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Compromise07:07
Joy never had a hangover, but she has observed enough people to know how it works: wake up with the worst headache, throw up, take ibuprofen, drink water, go back to sleep.
Seulgi’s at stage 1.
Joy stands at the doorway with a cup of coffee. People with hangovers are sensitive to noise so she keeps her voice low but loud enough for Seulgi to hear.
“Good morning.”
Seulgi buries her face into Joy’s pillow and mumbles something along the lines of ‘dying’ and ‘regret.’ She turns over, squinting at Joy. “You look like .”
“Do I?” Joy doesn’t know, she hasn’t looked in a mirror yet.
“Did you even sleep?”
Joy sips her coffee, sitting on the corner of her bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Answer my question.” Seulgi sits up, hair pointing out in all directions. “Did you sleep?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
Joy isn’t sure. The couch was less comfortable than she expected and she never remembers any of her dreams. She opens a bottle of water and offers it to Seulgi. “You shouldn’t worry, we sleep more than we think.”
“Why the hell are you drinking coffee, you —” Seulgi makes a gagging sound, covering . She scrambles to her feet and dashes out of the room.
“The bathroom is on the right.”
Seulgi vomits into the toilet bowl. She groans, staring at the product of her drinking session last night. “I’m never drinking again.”
Joy holds up Seulgi’s hair and rubs her back. Only Seulgi would be stupid enough to abuse her liver and give her keys to a friend so she could spend a night at Joy’s apartment. She can’t follow Seulgi’s thought process, if there is one.
“Your stupidity deserves an award.”
“ you.”
Joy grabs a tissue paper and wipes Seulgi’s mouth. She cringes as she imagines the sour taste of Seulgi’s mouth, even the foul smell makes her dizzy. “Not when you’re this filthy.”
“Since when do you have standards?” Seulgi pushes Joy’s arm aside. “I bet this Chen, which is a stupid name, by the way, is some rich, ugly old fart. What, did he promise to buy you a diamond ring?”
That sounds brilliant. Diamond is the hardest naturally occurring substance on Earth, and she has a lot of junk to test with.
“I doubt he can afford it, medical school is expensive.”
“So he’s a poor ugly old fart.”
“His colleagues ask him out every month, and we’re the same age.”
Joy pats the corner of Seulgi’s mouth with a tissue. Seulgi turns her face aside like a rebellious child, she grabs Joy’s wrist and tosses the tissue paper to the floor.
“Who else?” Seulgi asks.
Joy picks up the tissue paper with her free hand and tosses it to the bin. “I don’t understand your question.”
“Who else do you ?”
The rational side of Joy’s brain tells her to give a direct answer, but her irrational side, which always prevails when she’s with Seulgi, coaxes her to respond with a question to see how Seulgi would react.
“Are you jealous?”
Seulgi’s grip on Joy’s wrist is hard enough to leave a mark but not hard enough to hurt her.
“You wish.”
“Then I won’t answer.”
Seulgi’s grip becomes tighter and tighter. Her hand is trembling.
“Tell me.”
“Why does it matter to you?”
“It doesn’t.”
Tight. So tight it’s starting to hurt, but Joy wants to see how far she can push Seulgi before Seulgi breaks.
“Then this shouldn’t bother you.”
Seulgi grabs Joy’s shirt with her other hand and pulls her in. “It doesn’t.”
“Is that so?” Almost there. One more time. “It doesn’t bother you I see him before, and sometimes after I’m done with you?”
Just a little bit more —
Seulgi slams her against the wall. This is unexpected but not unpleasant.
“.”
Joy laughs at the shameless hypocrisy. Labels are meaningless to her but hearing that from Seulgi is hilarious. She grabs a fistful of Seulgi’s hair and tugs on it as hard as she could (Seulgi has a high pain tolerance so it’s fine).
“I don’t think highly of you either.”
Seulgi is beautiful. More beautiful than any scientific theories she can think of. The word beautiful doesn’t do her justice and Joy isn’t articulate enough to describe her beauty — she drives Joy mad to the point Joy wants to tie Seulgi up, play with her and make her beg to be released.
So beautiful.
Even now.
“And isn’t this how it should be? We use each other for our benefits, that’s the point of this arrangement. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s not quantum mechanics, what is so hard to understand?”
Seulgi’s expression is hard to read. It’s like a mix of all negative emotions intensifying every millisecond and Joy doesn’t know what to do with it.
“You selfish, egotistical piece of , you treat everything like an experiment. What am I, your test subject?”
No, that’s not it, Seulgi is a..
A what?
Seulgi’s not an acquaintance, they know more than each other’s names. She’s not a friend, they never share their problems. She’s not a one night stand, they’ve done it too many times.
“You’re a..”
Joy loses her voice as Seulgi looks her in the eye. There has to be a word in the dictionary for this, or at least in another language. She tries again.
“You’re my —”
Wait, my? This is coming out all wrong. It’s like she’s solving 1 + 1 and not knowing 2 exists, while knowing 22, 22 222, and 2 222 222 exist, but she can’t wrap her head around the fact 2 exists as a single number.
Even her analogy doesn’t make sense. Seulgi’s irrationality is contagious, maybe she can think more clearly if she takes her eyes off Seulgi.
“I don’t know.”
What a pathetic answer. Seulgi must think so too because she’s laughing as if Joy told her 1 + 1 = 22.
“You’re the worst.” Seulgi clings to Joy’s shirt, face pressed against her chest. She’s trembling.
Is Seulgi crying?
“But why,” Seulgi’s voice cracks, “Why do I want —”
The door swings open and Irene steps in. She pinches her nose. This is not what their bathroom, or anyone’s, should smell like. She grabs an air freshener and sprays a generous amount. The smell of lavender replaces what she assumes to be Seulgi’s vomit.
Seulgi coughs, covering with her hand. She has her clothes on this time, thank goodness. But her eyes are slightly red, did something happen between her and Joy?
“, you could’ve waited until I finished.”
Irene sprays a bit more. The name-calling is unnecessary. She puts the air freshener into a cabinet.
“Chen called.”
Seulgi lets go of Joy’s shirt. She looks at the floor, hands clenched into fists. Joy walks over to Irene and Seulgi raises her hand as if she wants to stop Joy, but Seulgi doesn’t say anything and she clenches her fist again.
Something’s wrong.
“Could you look after Seulgi?” Joy asks.
Yes, but Irene doesn’t want to. “I don’t think she wants me, or anyone, near her.”
A phone rings in the living room. Joy turns around, hand on the door knob, and glances at Seulgi. “Wait in my room, I promise I’ll be back.”
Joy leaves. Seulgi stares at the door then she frowns at Irene. It’s a different expression from how she looked at Joy a moment ago but Irene can’t describe it.
“What do you want?” Seulgi asks.
“Nothing, I’m here because Joy asked me to stay with you.”
Irene reads the back of a toothpaste tube: mint, 12-hour protection, clinically proven. A bunch of chemical names that make no sense but Joy probably knows about them enough to write a report and prepare powerpoint slides.
“You’re not together, are you?” Irene asks.
“None of your business.”
“But it is. I care about Joy, and you must be special to her because Joy set a ringtone for you. It’s different from everyone else.”
Irene doesn’t understand why Seulgi looks angry (or sad, she can’t tell). Shouldn’t Seulgi be happy?
“Whatever.” Seulgi walks over to the bathroom sink. She washes and wipes it with a tissue paper. “Joy looked like , did she even sleep last night?”
“I don’t think so. Joy sleeps in on weekends but she was already awake when I did my laundry. And her hair wasn’t messy, her bed head is completely different.”
Seulgi crumples the tissue paper but she doesn’t throw it away. She doesn’t look angry, she looks sad.
“Of course she didn’t stay,” Seulgi says. “She never does.”
Irene twiddles her little finger. Did she say something wrong? She was stating facts so she shouldn’t feel bad, right? It’s not her fault Joy chose to sleep — or stay up all night — on the couch. And wasn’t Joy being considerate letting Seulgi sleep in her bed? This is confusing.
Oh, she should apologize.
“I’m sorry.”
Seulgi doesn’t turn around. “Why?”
“I made you upset.”
“I’m not.” Seulgi glares into the mirror, perhaps at her own reflection. She rubs her eyes with her sleeve. “There’s no reason for you to apologize, and there’s no reason for me to be upset.”
Irene takes that as a signal to stop talking.
—
Nothing makes sense when Joy is with Seulgi, and when they’re apart. Seulgi does that to her, messing with her brain like a virus, connecting the wrong wires into the wrong slots. She destroys Joy’s ordered and structured life.
This is how it should be: Joy sleeps in on weekends, she spends her mornings with Irene, afternoons (and sometimes evenings) with Chen. Yet here she is, sleep-deprived, skipping her breakfast with Irene and cancelling her plan with Chen.
“Sorry, I can’t make it today.”
Chen hums over the phone. There’s a faint R&B song playing in the background, a CD she gave him on his birthday last year.
“Okay,” Chen says.
“Aren’t you asking me why?”
“Do you want me to?”
No, she doesn’t want Chen to ask but it’s rude to cancel a plan without a valid reason.
“I have to take care of Seulgi, she has a hangover.”
Chen is quiet for a moment, and Joy can hear the background song clearly.
“I made the right choice not to ask.” His laughter sounds off, it’s different from the way he laughs at her horrible jokes. “Try peppermint tea.”
The songs ends and the next track plays. Joy doesn’t pay attention to the lyrics because it’s a sad song and she doesn’t want to feel worse. She’d rather listen to Chen’s voice.
“Sorry.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Chen says. “You sound tired, did you not sleep well?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Because of Seulgi?”
Joy doesn’t answer straightaway. Lack of sleep slows down reaction time. “The couch was uncomfortable.”
“Go sleep. Or I’ll drag you into my bed and ban you from leaving my room.”
She wants to talk to Chen a bit longer so she changes the topic to him. Chen talks about his first patient, he was so nervous he put on the blood pressure cuff backwards (Joy finds this endearing).
Joy imagines him fumbling with a medical record, jotting notes, and finishing his check-up with an expression that says everything will be okay. She feels better. They talk for another two minutes.
—
Seulgi buries herself under Joy’s blanket. Joy’s bed is soft and smells like citrus. No, not oranges, this smells like.. lime. Yeah, lime. Similar to oranges but still has that distinct scent. It reminds Seulgi of her own bed, except her bed is nowhere near as comfortable as Joy’s.
“Would you like some water?”
Right, Joy’s flatmate is here. She forgot. “No.”
(She wants Joy.)
Seulgi could’ve left long ago, but she’s too tired to give a about her pride. And Joy promised she’d come back, that has to mean something. Her teddy bear isn’t here so she hugs Joy’s pillow instead.
“Who else has slept in this bed?” Seulgi asks.
She grips Joy’s pillow. Whatever, Joy can sleep with whoever she wants. Seulgi does the same and Joy never says anything. She feels like , this is the worst hangover she’s ever had. this hangover. this bed. everything.
“No one.”
Seulgi stops cursing in her head.
“Joy doesn’t let anyone sleep over, not in her room anyway.”
Seulgi takes the blanket off her. Joy’s flatmate, what’s her name — Irene — looks at her with a blank expression. It reminds her of Joy, the way they look so apathetic and say everything so casually.
“Do you feel better?” Irene asks.
Seulgi sits up, wrapping Joy’s blanket around her. She feels warm. Her hangover is still there but she feels less ty. “Thanks.”
Irene smiles. “You’re welcome.”
Seulgi walks around Joy’s room. Highlighted scientific articles scattered all over the desk, books arranged in alphabetical order, a whiteboard with nonsensical equations and diagrams, a glass chess set, and a Big Ben postcard.
It’s just as she imagined, messy but comforting.
She flips through Joy’s calendar. It’s full of appointments and deadlines. The 7th of July is marked with a question mark.
“Is she always this busy?”
“Her project’s deadline is in a few months, so she works overtime nowadays.” Irene says. “And she’s looking for a research position.”
Of course Irene knows more about Joy than Seulgi does. “You two seem close.”
“We’ve been together for two years.”
What?
Irene waves her hand. “No, not together as in dating. I mean living together.”
“Oh.” Seulgi picks up a ceramic coffee mug, relieved. There’s a faint lipstick stain. “This mug gets better treatment than I do.”
She drinks the coffee, on Joy’s lipstick stain. Cold and bitter, just as she expected. But Seulgi doesn’t mind, she prefers cold coffee and she hates sweet drinks anyway.
“I mean,” Irene says. “We only dated for a week, that’s hardly a relationship.”
Seulgi stops drinking.
—
Joy comes home with a box of peppermint teabags. Irene sits at the dinner table with a bowl of cherries.
“I think Seulgi hates me,” Irene says.
Joy adds one teaspoon of sugar into the peppermint tea. She stirs. “Did something happen when I was away?”
Irene plucks off a cherry’s stem. Joy waits for her answer but Irene stares at her as if she has done nothing wrong (which tells her something is definitely wrong).
“Irene.”
“Yes?”
“What did you say to her?”
“Why are you assuming it’s my fault?”
Joy points her spoon at Irene. “Did you or did you not say anything that may have caused a misunderstanding?”
“I was being straightforward, so no.” Irene eats a cherry. “I said we used to date, but we’re not together anymore. What’s wrong with that?”
Everything. Joy drops the teaspoon into the sink instead of flinging it at Irene’s face. She’s too tired for this, she needs sleep. “This is why we only lasted for two weeks.”
“One, and you’re as bad as I am in dating. No, you’re worse than me. You cancelled our date because you had to attend a seminar, and you fell asleep in the middle of it.”
“Let’s not talk about this.”
“I agree.” Irene offers a cherry to Joy. “Sorry.”
Joy sighs. “No, Irene.”
“You mean my apology or my cherry?”
Joy sighs again. “No, Irene, I don’t want your cherry.”
“But it’s so sweet.”
“I don’t care.” Joy sips the peppermint tea. Not too sweet but it’s a little too hot. They don’t have ice so Joy stirs the tea, careful not to spill even a drop. “Thanks for looking after Seulgi.”
“You’re welcome, but why were you gone for so long?”
“I was looking for peppermint tea.”
Irene grins. She doesn’t say anything, she just grins as if she knows something Joy doesn’t. It annoys her.
“If you want to say something, say it.”
“Seulgi sure is lucky.” Irene eats another cherry. “I’m going to Wendy’s, so don’t worry.”
Irene’s smile pisses her off, so Joy snatches a cherry from her bowl. Too sweet, how can anyone eat this? She’d rather eat tangerines. Joy throws away the seed and washes her hands.
Irene gives a paper towel to Joy. “Seulgi’s tea will get cold, you should go.”
“I didn’t say it’s for Seulgi.”
“You hate tea.”
Joy huffs. “Always so observant.”
“Not always,” Irene says. “But thanks.”
If Joy excels in scientific analysis, Irene excels in human observation. She doesn’t understand how Irene does it, decoding body language and noticing little details. Joy finds it impossible: too many variables, nothing is in her control, most of her predictions are wrong.
People are complex. Observing isn’t enough, Joy has to interpret their behaviour. Otherwise, she can’t draw a conclusion.
She can’t rationalize Seulgi’s behaviour.
“You’re spacing out,” Irene says.
Joy looks down at her tea. She spilled a little, she must’ve stirred too hard. Wait, when did she stop stirring? She has to check the temperature —
“Stop thinking too much.” Irene hugs her from behind. This feels nice. “You can’t break everything down to numbers and chemicals.”
But she can. “A twenty-second hug produces oxytocin.”
Irene giggles and lets go of Joy. “Should we do it over and time it?”
“Twenty seconds is too long, two is plenty.”
Irene hugs her again. “Why two?”
Joy looks at her wristwatch. The second hand ticks.
One.
Two.
Joy lets go of Irene. She feels better, her oxytocin is functioning. “It’s a nice number.”
—
Ex.
Joy lives with her ex.
Seulgi wraps a blanket around her, drawing her knees against her chest. Fine, it was a one-week relationship, but it was still a relationship. They must’ve been all over each other. Gross. Did they hold hands? Did they kiss? Did they —
The door opens. Joy (not her stupid ex) comes in. “Sorry I’m late. How are you feeling?”
Better, but Seulgi won’t say it because she wants Joy to pamper her. She frowns, pressing her hand against her temple. “My migraine is killing me.”
It’s not a lie. Her head does hurt but not as much as she makes it out to be. Joy gives her a cup of peppermint tea, she says it’s good for hangovers. Seulgi dislikes peppermint tea but she finishes it in one gulp, thankful the tea isn’t hot.
Seulgi would be blind not to notice Joy’s eyebags. “You look like .”
“I’m aware.”
“Then sleep.”
Seulgi points to the empty space next to her (it’s been empty since Joy left this morning). She prepares herself for a rejection, It hurts less if she has low expectations.
“Okay.” Joy looks at her as if sharing a bed isn’t a big deal. Maybe it isn’t to Joy, but it is to Seulgi.
“Good, you look like you’re going to die.”
Joy lies on the other side of the bed, facing the wall. She pulls the blanket over her. “Wake me if you wake up before I do.”
Seulgi keeps her eyes on the clock, watching the second hand tick. It’s too loud, but she’s grateful there’s something to distract her.
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
She waits for 5 minutes, no, 10 minutes, before she turns to face Joy’s back, then she slowly, very carefully, scoots closer as silently as possible. She keeps a small distance, close enough to pick up Joy’s rosemary mint scent.
The last (and the first) time they had slept together, Seulgi woke up with an empty space next to her, and a message on the Scrabble board saying ‘remember to eat.’
Tick.
Tock.
Will this time be like that too?
Tick.
Tock.
She doesn’t want that.
Joy turns over. Despite Joy’s chaotic and sometimes cruel personality, Joy looks peaceful when she’s sleeping. Like a goddess.
Seulgi wants to laugh at herself. Seriously, goddess? She sounds like a character in a ty romance novel. And Joy isn’t a goddess, she’s the Devil.
So stupid.
Romance novels have happy endings.
Seulgi and Joy don’t even have a beginning.
She moves closer and kisses Joy’s cheek, careful not to wake her up. They never kiss on the lips except during , and stealing a kiss when someone’s sleeping is creepy. But if it’s Joy — no, of course Joy wouldn’t kiss her.
Seulgi closes her eyes. Maybe this time, she won’t wake up alone.
(Please stay.)
—
14:02
Joy opens her eyes. The gap between her and Seulgi is smaller than she remembers.
She holds Seulgi’s hand and stays.
Author’s note: A Joy/Seulgi-centric chapter because I wanted to focus on one thing for once. Then I realized this is a multi-POV chapter, so I didn’t actually focus on one thing. But I dislike mono-POV, I like variety. So no, I can’t focus on one thing, hence why everything is all over the place like this pointless author’s note. Does anyone read this?
Thanks for reading, I’d like to know what you think. Have a nice day and see you again.
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