she was made of thick sweaters and coffee dates, and this was how she left.

//

Winter. The seasons fade but everything else sits drenched in cold. 

"I have something to say." Sejeong began, cracking a crooked smile on her lips. 

It was cold, the street empty. They stood facing each other, both inadequately dressed for the chill entering their bodies. Sejeong stuffed a hand into the pocket of her sweater, curling her fingers into a tight fist. The words wouldn't come, felt dry. She imagined it would hurt to speak. 

"What is it?" Nayoung asked, a mix of curiousity and fear mingling in her eyes. The question hung in the air for a moment, turning it heavy. Pressing down on their hearts, the weight was suffocating. And Sejeong's gaze wavered before settling on her. A uneasy fixation. She stared past her, as though she was seeing something else altogether. 

Nayoung started to feel scared.  

"Tell me, please." It was sharp like the frost biting their skin, the sound of desperation. For a second, quite easy to miss, it felt like Sejeong was somewhere else faraway, somewhere Nayoung couldn't reach. Somewhere Nayoung couldn't see. 

"Say it." Her voice rose unintentionally, like the tide of unexplicable emotions rising in her chest, like it was about to crash and fall. Spill out over the pavement. A big ugly splat of feelings on concrete. 

Sejeong rubbed her eyes in distraught. She sighed, her shoulders slumped in a way which made her look small and vulnerable. Her lips were slightly parted, a cloud of hot exhaled breath leaking through.

Suddenly Nayoung began smoothing out her own hair. It was as though she had been possessed by some feverish need to tidy her unkempt appearance (she had been called out on short notice). She took out a stick of lip-balm from her pocket, shaking hands, and smeared it over her chapped lips. Mint. She could taste it on her tongue. 

"What are you doing?" 

Nayoung froze, the sound of Sejeong's voice seeping through her head. Finally, the latter could talk, but Nayoung knew those weren't the words she wanted to say. 

"I'm preparing myself."

"For what?"

Yes, for what? What was she doing exactly? Nayoung grasped for the clarity Sejeong's question had broken. Then their eyes met again, they were trying to tell each other something but both were afraid of how the truth would sound. It was funny how Sejeong was always the bolder girl between the two but when it came to it, she was quite hopeless. 

Nayoung almost wanted to laugh. 

"Well--" She hesitated, a sad hunch sitting heavy in her chest. Then she plastered a smile on her face, numb and semi-defrosted. "--it feels as though you are about to break up with me." 

There. A ripple of colour, a shade of pain so vivid it felt foreign washing through them and it was that kind of feeling that wouldn't hit them instantly. But come again later, loud and agonising, a flood all at once. It was the truth, Nayoung could tell from the way Sejeong almost winced then paused, the gears in her head coming to a stop. 

Sejeong almost wanted to shout. 

Her head was filled with all the words she shouldn't say like: "I'm sorry." or "How did you know?" 

But worst of all, the most pathetic one: "What do you mean?" 

Don't avoid it. She shouldn't. It had to be said, Nayoung deserved that much, she was important, someone she cared about. Sejeong swirled the coffee cup in her hand, the beverage now cold, and gathered all her courage. It was hard to look at Nayoung. For all she could see was the girl's glassy stare, and the bright hurt, and the fear swirling in her eyes. Like a deer caught in headlights. 

"I-I can't. I can't do this anymore." She confessed, straining the words out. 

"Do what?" 

Sejeong looked up and recognised the sudden challenge in Nayoung's voice. The girl was broken and scared, and she was trying to hurt her, Sejeong could tell. 

"This." Sejeong gestured with her hands, making up for the lack of words, feeling the swoosh of her coffee in the cup. 

"What is this?" 

Silence. 

Nayoung pressed on, the same obscure feverish need overtaking her lips. 

"What is it? What is this? Tell me now, won't you--" 

"This. Us! Our relationship--you and me, being together!" 

They were shouting now, with the words they don't mean spewing out like a broken dam. Their voices filled the street, jarring the evening quietude. Cutting each other with shards from vulgar insuinations that tumbled out from their lips. Careless. Red vision. Done with every intention to hurt each other by pouring out their own pain, and indignations.

Then they stopped. Not because they had ran out of things to say, but because Nayoung had started crying. 

Sejeong stared at her, the void in her stomach growing bigger, anger gone. 

"Just, it's not working out for me. I-I can't see you as anything more than a friend." She looked away, ashamed. "I'm sorry." 

She shifted her weight awkwardly as Nayoung wiped away her tears with a sleeve. She ought to offer the girl tissues, or something, but she had none. Inwardly she berated herself, and she felt like a jerk. But this was the kinder way to let Nayoung go. 

"It's okay." Another forced smile plastered on her face, eyes slightly red, tear-stained cheeks. Sejeong could tell that Nayoung had already begun building walls between them. 

"I kinda expected it anyway." 

Sejeong swallowed hard, new questions entering her mind, but she suppressed them. Shot them down. She didn't have that right, she thought. It was better this way. 

Nayoung heaved a long sigh, pushing out the heartbreak in a single breath. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking and she caught her lower lip between teeth, a part of her wishing that they would bleed. She hoped that it was dark enough for Sejeong not to notice. 

"It's getting late, we should head back." She proposed, suddenly eager to retire into the comforts of her home, bed and everything warm and familiar. Sejeong looked so lost and small that Nayoung almost didn't recognise her anymore. It was repelling. 

"Okay." 

Time seemed to stretch, drag on, during their quiet walk back to the train station. They neither talked nor looked at each other, eyes glued to the pavement, the night sky, anywhere else but each other. This would be the last time they would walk next to each other like that again, with the remaining intimacy, sadness and love left between them. 

Sejeong had an urge to say something, a futile attempt to repair something. Anything, it didn't matter. But everything she would've said sounded so inadequate and selfish in her head that it sealed her lips instead. Then she found herself stepping into the train station, tapping her card at the gantry. Error. Tapping again, walking through and stopping in her tracks. 

"Thank you." Nayoung began, her gratitude grating Sejeong's ears. Anger rushed through her veins. 

"No. Don't say that." She declared in a fervent whisper, shooting Nayoung a look. Those were her words, she couldn't allow Nayoung to take them just like that.

Not like that.

Not like this.

"I--Thank you--" 

(for everything.
 

And sorry, for everything.)

Yet again, she was selfish, it was almost funny. When will she learn?

The look on Nayoung's face remained unreadable. Then a nod, a second of solemn acknowledgement, and she turned to leave, the action sending a pang through Sejeong's chest. 

"I, erm--" She started, grabbing the girl's wrist and letting go quickly. Her shoes squeaked against the tiled floor. "Can we still be friends? I don't want us to stop talking because of something like this." 

Desperation, they could both hear it echoing in the station briefly before the sound of rattling train tracks drowned it out. Nayoung glanced down the steps, the long metallic body of the train reflected in her glassy eyes. Then she rubbed her own wrist, the ghost of Sejeong's touch lingering on it, latching onto her skin. Burning it. It had surprised her, almost. 

"Yeah." She spoke softly, covering her own uncertainty with another smile. "Don't worry." 

Then she turned and skipped down the steps, a desire to catch the train fueling her legs. Sejeong watched Nayoung enter the vehicle, back facing her, then watched too as the doors closed behind her. No second glances back, her walls were built, Sejeong could tell. 

She threw her head back, taking one last gulp from her coffee cup, walking down the stairs. It was cold, disgusting, bitter despite the sugar. She closed her eyes, trying not to make a face. Trying not to cry as she threw it into the bin. Trying not to--ah, she didn't know anymore.

Both hands dug into the pockets of her sweater, Sejeong walked to the opposite end of the train station from where Nayoung had left. The wind slapped her face, train screeching past her. Then she walked in, without turning around, face stiff and frozen, with the doors closing behind her. 

//

AN: i changed up my writing style for this, let me know what you think. i might re-do chapter one.