it’s raining TT

Wheein stares at the message, blinking. She ambles towards her window and peeks through the blinds, realizes that her Moonbyul-unnie is right.

She’s still a little sick to go out in the rain this strong, so she thumbs, but drinks tonight! :(

Her phone dings, signalling Moonbyul’s reply. I know! TT

Wheein looks up from the lighted screen, pondering. She watches absentmindedly as Kkomo hops from the couch to his bed, settling on the soft cushion with a few scratches here and there.

Do you want to come over and play with Kkomo instead?

Moonbyul only replies with a sticker of Muzi grinning; Wheein already knows it’s a yes.

She always does.

~

It takes twenty minutes or so before Wheein is greeted by Moonbyul’s smiling face on her front door, a pack of beer on her right hand and a dripping black umbrella on her left.

It’s weird, Wheein thinks, that it feels like she’s just seeing her unnie for the first time in what seems like forever, when she only just saw her yesterday during their dance practice.

(Or maybe, she just finds it rare to see Moonbyul without Yongsun these days.

And Wheein swallows at that thought, for known and unknown reasons.)

Moonbyul lifts the pack, waving it on Wheein’s face. “It’s the perfect weather for these!”

She taps Wheein on the nose, when the younger girl doesn’t move to let her in. “Wheein-ah, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” says Wheein. She shakes her head, snapping out of it, and flashes Moonbyul a smile. “Let me put those in the fridge.”

She takes the pack from the taller girl’s hand, and then pushes her front door open with her hip to let Moonbyul in.

The bounce in Moonbyul’s steps as she sprints to Kkomo’s bed reaches the kitchen. Wheein can hear it despite the thin wall that separates it from her living room. There’s some ruffling too, and Kkomo’s pur.

Wheein guesses Moonbyul has picked him up and carried him to some part of her house.

(As if he’s more than just Wheein’s cat.

Wheein has to swallow again at that.)

She grabs the lone can of beer that has been in her fridge since God knows when, returning to her living room.

She comes back to the sight of Kkomo lying on his back, feet outstretched as he tries to scratch at the sleeves of Moonbyul’s jacket.

Chuckling, Wheein cracks the can open, places it right beside Moonbyul.

Moonbyul runs her arms against Kkomo’s paws fast, the tips of his nails grazing her sleeves but not really letting his claws cleave through.

Kkomo keeps on purring every time he misses, and Wheein just has to catch that on video. So she pulls her phone out, brings up the camera application and hits on record.

Moonbyul snorts and then giggles; Wheein finds it a miracle that her hand doesn’t shake.

~

“Do you want some snack, unnie?” Wheein asks after Moonbyul takes her fifth sip. Normally, she’d just let the taller girl sift through her food, but Moonbyul refuses to leave Kkomo’s side for one second, so she has to ask.

Moonbyul’s laughing as she pokes Kkomo’s nose again. His feet are spread wide, his eyes closing slowly until he feels the tip of Moonbyul’s finger. “I think I tired him out.”

“He’s faking sleep, don’t fall for it.”

Moonbyul feigns a gasp, covers Kkomo’s ears. “He doesn’t do that. Stop accusing him of things!”

“Unnie,” Wheein whines, swatting at Moonbyul’s hand to gain her full attention. “Do you want some snack? Tell me so that I can make it.”

Moonbyul catches her fingers just as she’ pulling her hand away, then, she smiles at Wheein.

(Moonbyul has two smiles; Wheein knows this. She has spent time with her long enough to tell which is which.

Yongsun gets the bright ones these days. The kind that pulls her cheeks up, etches hollow lines in between her cheeks and the bridge of her nose with how hard she’s smiling.

And Wheein? She gets the lopsided ones, like there’s wistfulness at the edge of her smile, tugging it down.

But she’s okay with that. She’s okay with anything as long as Moonbyul still smiles.)

“I’ll eat whatever you’ll have. Nothing spi—”

“Nothing spicy, I know,” Wheein finishes for her. “I didn’t forget.”

I won’t, never will is left unsaid. Wheein can’t find the courage to say them out loud; maybe, she never will.

Moonbyul’s smile doesn’t grow, but her eyes soften. “Thanks, Wheein-ah.”

Yet, the weight of Moonbyul’s gaze feels heavy on her shoulders; feels like she’s carrying a Yongsun-shaped anvil that makes her arms hurt.

Wheein pulls her hand away, balling her fingers into a fist, hard enough that her nails sink crescents in her palm.

“I’ve got some tteokbokki left. I’ll go reheat it and fix the sauce for you, okay?” She says as she lifts herself to her feet.

She knows Moonbyul’s gaze never leaves her back. What she doesn’t know is how to feel about that.

~

Moonbyul moves from the floor to the couch. Wheein sees her pick Kkomo up, who really did fall asleep, and lays him on his bed at the gentlest way that the taller girl can.

Wheein’s grip on the wooden spatula tightens as a jolt of something creeps up from her spine and spreads all over her chest, watching the way Moonbyul rubs Kkomo back to sleep.

It hurts, so much that Wheein has to put the spatula down and prop both her hands on the counter, fingers curling on the edge in a tight grip.

It’s not that the realization is slow; it’s just that, she’s buried that part of her that misses Moonbyul so deep. Because Wheein loves Yongsun like the sister she never had.

And she’ll do anything for her sister. She never even have to ask.

~

“Something doesn’t smell right.”

Wheein spins at the sound of Moonbyul’s voice, air escaping out of her lungs when she realizes how close the taller girl is.

Their feet are almost touching, knees almost bumping. And Wheein has to curb the urge to grab Moonbyul’s clothes and pull her impossibly closer.

“Wheein?” Moonbyul asks, frowning at the glassy eyes that wasn’t there when Wheein left to go to the kitchen.

The smaller girl clears , turning to face the stove. “It’s uh,” she starts, then, “I don’t think we can eat the tteokbokki.”

“Yeah, I can smell it from the couch,” Moonbyul says. She darts a hand out to turn the knob off. “Let’s just clean this up, okay?”

Wheein nods wordlessly. She twists to throw the spatula on the sink, and then grabs the bag of popcorn from her cupboard. “We can have popcorn, instead?”

A shrug rolls off Moonbyul’s shoulders. “I’ll eat anything, really.”

Wheein throws her a quick glance, then, “Okay.” She side steps once, as the microwave oven’s just within arm’s reach, yanks the door open and places the popcorn bag inside.

She sets the timer to three minutes, and is about to head to the fridge to get more beers out when she loses her footing, her foot catching on the rug.

Wheein closes her eyes, waiting for the impact, for her body to hit the ground.

~

It never comes.

~

“Aish, Wheein-ah,” Moonbyul tsks as she pulls the arms encircled around Wheein, righting the smaller girl.

“Sorry,” Wheein says—or at least tries to—amidst the hammering in her chest. “You know how I get clumsy sometimes.”

A laugh follows, yet it’s anything but genuine. It’s riddled with fluttering nerves, laced in her voice that wavers.

But it’s the crack at the last syllable that makes Moonbyul frown.

Wheein tries to hide it with a smile, showing the dimple in her cheek that always distracts Moonbyul.

But maybe, her eyes are too glassy for her smile to look like she means it.

Maybe, her lips are quivering too much.

Maybe, there’s a strained sound that comes out of that shouldn't have; that Moonbyul isn’t supposed to hear. Not from her, of all people.

Moonbyul pulls her close without another word, Moonbyul’s hands wrapping around her waist, as if they’re always meant to be there.

The taller girl gently lays Wheein’s head on her chest, right where Wheein can hear her heartbeat underneath; the spot that feels like she’s finally coming home.

It starts with one drop, at the thought that she hasn’t been this close with Moonbyul for months.

And the next thing she knows, her tears are soaking through Moonbyul’s black shirt as she shushes Wheein with soft whispers; the same way she used to do back then, when Wheein had a particularly tough night and the world wasn’t kind.

And Wheein hates, hates how it makes her feel like there was never any distance between them.

How one of Moonbyul’s hand on her hair erases weeks and weeks of nights filled with I’m lonely without you.

How, for three minutes, it feels like her world slotted back into its axis.

~

The timer dings, and Wheein takes the chance to pull away.

But Moonbyul refuses to let her go. She pulls Wheein back, wiping the tears on Wheein’s face with the sleeve of her long shirt.

For a beat, Wheein’s almost scared her tears won’t stop. But they trickle down into sniffles, eventually.

Moonbyul patiently wipes the last of it away, and then pinches Wheein’s cheek, right where her dimple is, to coax a smile from her.

Like she always does.

The corners of Wheein’s lips tug into a watery smile; one that sticks despite the buzzing of Moonbyul’s phone, and the message from Yongsun that ensues.

Because despite Jjing Jjing eating Yongsun’s favorite pair of slippers, she tells Moonbyul to have fun with Wheein.

And that’s how Wheein knows that she’s not in this alone.

~