Irene sits in the library one afternoon, staring at the book and fiddling with pages. Recently, her afternoons are spent alone, thinking.

Amber and Krystal confronted her when Seulgi wasn’t around for lunch. They asked her a bunch of questions, “Who is Wendy?”, “Is she just your friend?”, “Are you sure?”, “Why does Seulgi think it’s more than that?”

Seulgi. Precious Seulgi. Irene wants to slap herself in that moment. How can she be so inconsiderate? Talking to Seulgi, of all people, about Wendy.

Irene lets out a sigh. To be honest, she never thought of Wendy as more than a friend. She is interesting, kind, and a good companion. She meets all of her friends that way, her few good friends.

They seem satisfied by her answers and let the issue go.

(Later on, she would ask the person in question to stay with her without an explanation. Wendy stays and talks, while she listens and silently makes a list of reasons why she could have a crush on the girl in front of her.)

---

She’s startled when someone taps her shoulders one afternoon. She sees Wendy smile and motion to the bench. Irene scoots over and greets back with a smile.

Wendy looks extra pretty today. Irene’s not sure if it’s because of her maroon long-sleeves, or her untied hair falling to her shoulders, or the guitar case slung onto her back, or maybe it's the confidence she didn’t see on the first day of class.

“You play?” she asks, gesturing to the guitar.

“Yeah. I love playing my guitar as much as I love singing. Would you like me to play a song?” she looks bashful, and Irene thinks it’s adorable. 

“This is um, my favorite to play…” Wendy starts, before strumming her guitar. “Look at the stars, look how they shine for you…”

Wendy’s expression changes as she sings the song. She closes her eyes with a soft smile on her lips as she sings.

Before reaching the end of the song, Irene couldn’t hold her words back anymore.

“We’ve met before…” Wendy stops and opens her eyes.

“Yeah… at the…”

“…benefit concert. I remember.” Irene interrupts and looks up as if remembering something.

She’s flooded with emotions, different feelings she can’t sort out. She excuses herself and stands up to leave.

---

Irene (5:29 PM) sorry.

Wendy (5:31 PM) it’s ok. want to talk about it?

Irene (5:33 PM) not really. maybe next time.

---

Wendy doesn’t bring it up. Not in class. Not in the library. Not when they’re on the bench with her guitar case by her side.

But Irene wants to hear her voice again. It’s her new favorite thing to hear.

“I’m sorry about last time.” Irene starts and Wendy looks at her for a few seconds before she continues. “But why yellow?”

“Oh. It was the song that calmed me the most. And the day we met, you told me it was your favorite song.” Wendy answers honestly, and Irene is partly surprised an