7/?

7th February 2016, 19:01pm

Yoona didn’t know what it was. Maybe she did, actually. But she decided to just feel it this time, instead of interrogating it. Jessica was laughing; wide, a ping pong paddle in her right hand and a cocktail in her left, and her skin was magenta pink under the neon lighting.

She looked different, Yoona thought, amongst other people, newer almost. Her voice sounded different too, out in open settings, talking to others. Yoona felt it in her stomach, and it tingled up into her chest, her neck, around her eyes and ears where she felt warm, and it seeped into her cranium until she was lightheaded. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling but when Jessica came forward, touching her wrist, it was like seeing her for the first time all over again, and she realised what it was.

So, this is what it’s like?

Happiness.

* * *

“So how many games have I won now?” Jessica pondered aloud, finger pressed to her lip in faux thought.

Yoona would’ve flicked her in the forehead if she didn’t look so stupidly pretty. “Four…” she mumbled.

“Four? So, that means you’ve won…how many?” she continued smugly.

“Zero…” Yoona rolled her eyes.

“So that makes me…?”

“Annoying.” Yoona snorted.

“I think the words you’re looking for is a winner.” She poked at Yoona’s nose, setting the ping pong paddle down on the counter next to the ping pong table they’d rented for the evening.

“Whatever, Jung,” Yoona took a gulp from her cup, pretending to be more annoyed than she actually was. She was usually good at Ping-Pong, but something about Jessica had thrown her off her usual prowess. But she figured if she had to lose to someone, Jessica would be her most desired option. “Sleep with one eye open tonight.”

“Is that a threat?” Jessica squinted at her, leaning forward, closing the space between them. Over the course of the date, Jessica had relaxed considerably. Walking beside each other had felt strange at first, but the more they laughed, the more their usual ease settled over them. Jessica’s touches and grazes where subtle, and they occurred only after she’d had casted a cautious glance around the establishment, but Yoona committed each one to memory, like verses from a bible.

“Maybe,” she gave a nonchalant shrug, “maybe not.”

Jessica chuckled. “You’re so full of .” Her hand dipped down into the tray of greasy nachos they’d ordered.

“Don’t eat too much of that,” Yoona said, taking a particularly cheesy nacho and eating it contradictorily. “I don’t want you to be full for where I’m taking you next.”

“You’re taking me somewhere else?” Jessica’s eyebrows rose.

“You told me to wine and dine you Im-Yoona-style. So that’s exactly what I’m doing.” She wanted to put her arm around her but was concerned about the kind of reaction it’d garner.

They played another game. Yoona lost, again. As Jessica jeered in victory, Yoona suddenly felt as though her losses were like a running theme, a motif that had always been laced in the undertones of everything. It was a strange thought, but she couldn’t help but think that maybe God was laughing at her, had always been laughing at her.

They got their coats and left.

* * *

2nd December 2016, 23:33am (Present)

Tokyo is everything and nothing like she remembers. The flashing lights are just as jarringly bright and the throngs of people sweep her up in an almost oceanic fashion that is both parts familiar and frightening.

As she lugs herself and her suitcase into a taxicab, she realises that her Japanese skills are just as bad, or worse, as they had been back then.

The city streets drift past her like a film reel, one by one, scene by scene. People keep to themselves here, and she thinks that’s just what she needs - to walk down the street and not recognise any of the faces that pass her by.

The taxi drops her outside her hotel. Its only after she’s checked-in and secured her hotel room door closed that the silence settles, that the fact that all the people she loves are an sea-lengths away settles. There’s sadness and relief.

She drops her bag onto the mattress and saunters over to the window. She watches the city, heaving below her like a living thing that’s going to die out someday soon.

She breathes out. Tokyo is everything and nothing like she remembers. She catches sight of herself in the mirror, hanging quietly on the wall. She looks at her reflection, she looks at herself before looking back out the window again - but she can’t decide which one has changed more.

* * *

7th February 2016, 19:33pm

Streetlights and starlight were very different from lamplight and room light. Just like the night sky and the twinkling buildings in Seoul were a much different backdrop than her bedroom. There was something spectacular about being there, and something especially spectacular about being there with her.

“I was kind of sceptical about ping pong, but it was actually really fun,” Jessica said as they took a left onto the main street where cars and buses were flitting by in all their different colours.

Yoona laughed slightly, “I’m glad you enjoyed it, but maybe next time you should let your opponent know that you’re actually a professional player in disguise. That way they can preserve their dignity.”

“Oh, stop being such a sore loser.”

“I’m being serious,” she chuckled. “How does Jung Jessica, a woman who doesn’t believe in running, suddenly turn into a Ping-Pong Olympian? Make it make sense.”

“Very funny.” Jessica rolled her eyes in jest and almost as if she weren’t thinking, she slipped her arm around Yoona’s as they continued to walk, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “I used to play in high school. Guess I haven’t lost my mojo.”

“First of all, please never use the word mojo again. Secondly, is this okay?” She gestured to her arm that Jessica was now hugging to her body. Not that Yoona was complaining – but she felt obligated to check, to make sure that Jessica was comfortable.

Jessica looked down at their linked limbs in consideration for a moment before shrugging, “Friends link arms, right?” Her eyes were aglitter with the luminescence of the city lights, and Yoona felt like she was falling.

“Right.” She confirmed, smiling gently down at her. And it happened all over again like it had in the ping pong bar, and it almost made her feel sick - and incredibly stupid. They were just kidding themselves, she knew they were, but if it felt like this, then who was she to care?

“So, where’s our next stop, captain?” Jessica asked after a moment.

“I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.”

* * *

“I’ve never been to this part of the city before,” Jessica said as they alighted the subway cart. The subway station was bustling with people. Yoona reached down and slipped her hand into Jessica’s.

“Don’t want you to get lost,” Yoona murmured through the background noise. Jessica nodded.

They threaded their way through the crowd, pressed to the wall as they edged up the stairs. As they emerged out onto the street, cast in yellow light from lampposts, Yoona loosened her grip, ready to let go, but Jessica caught her, squeezing her fingers so tight it was almost painful.

“Don’t,” Jessica said. Yoona looked back at her. “I’m okay with this.”

“You sure?” she questioned, confused.

Jessica nodded, her clean hair moving around her pretty face. “You don’t have to let go.”

“Okay, then.” Yoona smiled at her and they began walking until they fell into step, the weight and warmth of Jessica’s hand in hers feeling just right. She thought maybe, just maybe, because Jessica was far enough away from home and all the people she knew and all the things that seemed to asphyxiate her so, maybe this was where Jessica felt free enough to start being herself. Really start.

“It’s down here,” Yoona said, tugging them into an alley.

“Here?” Jessica said unsurely.

“I know it looks like I’m taking you to a crack den, but just trust me, yeah? I’ve been here a bunch of times. It’s a hidden gem.”

Jessica acquiesced slowly and followed her down into the tight passageway until they reached a set of old, wooden doors. The signage above was illuminated in a deep red glow that simply read ‘Outlier’ in huge, blocky lettering.

They went inside and were immediately engulfed in chattering buzz and the loud hiss and sizzle of an open kitchen. Jessica’s hold on her seemed to tighten. The restaurant was small, a table wedged into every available space and the gap between occupants barely existent.

Yoona craned her neck above the busyness, seeking out a familiar face. It was then the person she was looking for emerged from the swinging door of the kitchen, full plates piled up his arms. He greeted the largest table in the establishment with a jeer, filing their dishes off with a habitual ease, before his eyes fell on her from across the room.

“Well if it isn’t Im Yoona,” he said as he approached.

“Jae,” Yoona greeted in response, as he embraced her in a one-armed hug. “Always nice to see you. Thanks for doing me this favour.”

“Anything for an old like you,” he grinned at her, jovially slapping her on the back. His gold-rimmed spectacles sat on his thin nose precariously and his loose silk shirt was patterned with pink flamingos and blue parakeets. “Is this the new girlfriend?” He asked, coming forward and shaking Jessica’s hand.

Jessica’s mouth quirked up in a somewhat awkward smile, returning the gesture. “I’m Jessica. And no, I’m just a friend.”

“Just a friend?” Jae’s eyebrows rose doubtfully on his forehead. “Im Yoona just friends with a girl like you? Impossible.”

“Alright, alright.” Yoona waved him off. “Leave it alone. She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Well okay, whatever you say.” He shrugged. “But after you see what she’s prepared for you upstairs,” he said, nudging Jessica suggestively, “you might have to rethink the just friends thing.”

“Oh, my lord, Jae, just show us to our table please?”

“What? I’m just warning her,” Jae laughed, gesturing them to follow him. “After me, you pair of pals.”

They followed him down a side corridor. Yoona mouthed an apology at Jessica, at which Jessica just smiled and shook her head, telling her it was fine. Jae led them through a heavy door which led up a flight of narrow, creaky stairs. They ascended the steps and pushed through a fire exit.

“And here we are,” Jae gestured grandly as they emerged out onto the rooftop of the building.

Yoona nodded, impressed, but quickly looked over at Jessica to gauge her reaction, which was a difficult read anyway. A canopy had been set up, and underneath was a small dining table topped with candles and roses. Fairy lights had been strung up and wound around the canopy and the railings for a somewhat dream-like ambience.

“If it gets too warm, you can just turn these down,” Jae said, patting the outdoor heating system with his hand, “but it gets pretty chilly up here, so I think you’ll be fine.” He turned to them with a smile. “Menus are on the table. Text me whenever you’re ready to order. I’ll leave you two lovebirds- uh, I mean friends, to settle in.”

Yoona rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Jae.”

“Anything for you, Yoongie-poo,” he winked greasily before turning away and leaving the way they’d come. She watched him go and made sure he was gone before turning back to Jessica who had drifted over to the canopy.

“Sorry about him. He just likes to annoy me,” Yoona said, coming to stand beside her.

“Don’t worry about it. He was nice.” Jessica responded, her fingers grazing over the white tablecloth. “How do you know him?”

“He used to wait tables with me and Soo back in Busan. He’s a good guy. Always willing to help out when he can.” She searched the side of Jessica’s face, looking for any suggestion of what she might be thinking.

“Did you tell him I was your girlfriend?”

“No, no, no. Of course not.” Yoona explained quickly. “I just said you were a friend I was trying to do something nice for.”

Jessica nodded. Her eyes looked distant, as if she were thinking of something else far away.

“Jae won’t say anything to anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about. He’s not that kind of guy. And he only hangs out with the gays and girls so I doubt he even knows anyone you know-“

“It’s okay. I’m not worried about Jae.” Jessica’s voice was quiet, her eyes trained down onto the table.

“Oh,” Yoona frowned slightly. “Then what’s up?”

“Did you do all this yourself?”

Worry suddenly speared itself through Yoona’s chest. “I mean…I had Jae and some of his staff give me a hand but, uh…I mean, for the most part…it was me.”

“I see…”

“Is it too much? To be honest I just wanted a table and some lights. But Jae insisted on the roses and the canopy and I told him it was too much-“

“No, it’s…” Jessica chuckled suddenly, looking up at her. “It’s beautiful, Yoona.”

“Why do you look so sad then?”

Jessica opened and closed it again, exhaling as she cast a long look around the rooftop. “It’s just…no one’s ever gone to so much effort for me, especially not for a first date. It’s a little overwhelming.”

To Yoona, that could’ve meant a million things. “In a bad way?”

“No, no. Not at all I just…I…” Jessica broke off. Yoona couldn’t tell what she was thinking. The things and expressions flitting across her face were ones that she’d never seen before. What are you supposed to do with emotions you’ve never seen before? “I’m being stupid.” Jessica shook her head, turning to pull Yoona closer to her. “This is amazing. Thank you.”

As Jessica kissed her, Yoona closed her eyes. She had to wonder – if people didn’t treat Jessica like this, then how did they treat her? Because Yoona didn’t even feel as though this was enough. She felt like she wanted to do more. She felt like she just wanted to give Jessica everything.

How impossible.

* * *

3rd December 2016, 16:35pm (Present)

She’s never shaken so many hands, made so many acquaintances, flashed so many fake smiles and forced so much unnaturally bubbly laughter. It’s exhausting and exhilarating. The Tokyo Business Convention is like a fairground for adults in suits, swirling martinis and pinching appetizers from platters in replacement of slushies and candyfloss.

Yoona finds it dizzying. Most of the people specialised in motor mechanics and garages are middle-aged men with hairy forearms. They look at her with an almost guarded curiosity, but she takes their pamphlets and introduces herself anyway. There’s a stall specifically for women in the cars industry which she gravitates toward immediately.

Everyone’s from different places, speaks a different language in a different accent, and has had a different experience in getting into the field.

“First time?” The woman asks her, handing her an information pack.

Yoona nods, acid in her stomach. “It’s…huge.”

“And every year, it only gets bigger.” The woman chuckles.

She turns away to look at the car models and exhibits and flashy promotional posters and banners and hanging signs and all the people dressed in uniforms and colourful polo shirts, handing out brochures and serving those perfunctory smiles.

It’s a funfair, she thinks, full of strangers trying to sell her something. Buy the dream and they’ll sell you one.

The large lights and the air conditioning is making her eyes dry. The thing about being in foreign cities, lost in convention halls, is that everything is an opportunity, you can take a chance on all of it.

* * *

Steve Watari is a humungous unit of a man. His navy shirt and jacket strains against his shoulders and arms as he reaches out to shake her hand.

“Im ing Yoona,” he says, his voice gravelly and warm like smoke from an old chimney. “Never thought the day would come.”

“Steve,” she greets, gripping his hand, noticing that it envelops hers almost entirely. “Great to finally meet you. Soo has told me so much.”

“Likewise,” he smiles knowingly, dropping his cigarette stub onto the pavement and crushing it under his large leather dress shoe. “Shall we get going? Our reservation is in 5 minutes.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before walking off, down the street. Yoona hurries after him, struggling to keep up with the long stride of his legs. “Where are we going?”

“Sooyoung said you like hidden gems.” He’s already lighting another cigarette, balancing it in the corner of his mouth. “You can’t get more hidden then where we’re going. Not a single tourist in sight.”

She glances around quickly as he leads her down a dark side street, realising that she doesn’t have much choice but to trust him.

* * *

Everything he’s wearing is designer. She catches a flash of a fancy Italian brand on his jacket’s label as he drapes it over the back of his seat. There’s a small hoop in his left ear that matches the gold plating in the large watch strapped around his thick wrist and she counts at least three expensive-looking rings on each of his hands, his left pinkie dressed in a shiny red ruby.

The restaurant he’s brought her to is small, barely large enough for fifteen people. The sign outside is written in an unintelligible font that she couldn’t even begin to attempt reading, but inside the place is traditional, simple, and scarcely decorated. Besides them, there are only two other tables occupied, and the one waiter on shift moves around the establishment in a sleepy, automated fashion.

They settle at a table in the middle of the room. Steve sticks out like a large, swollen, navy thumb, spangled in sparkly jewellery in the mild, quiet atmosphere of the little restaurant.

Before the waiter can even set down the menus, Steve places their orders in a short, concise sentence, without even consulting her.

“I come here all the time,” he explains as the waiter scurries off behind the counter.

“I can tell,” Yoona laughs, unsure how else to react. Their drinks are set down before them promptly.

“So,” Steve begins, smiling slightly, “Sooyoung says she’s trying to convince you to start a business with her.”

Her brow raises slightly, wondering what else Sooyoung might’ve told him. “We’ve talked about it. Nothing set in stone yet, though.”

“That why you came to the convention? See what else is out there already?” He takes a long sip from his drink. She looks at him properly. He’s a handsome man, tanned, balding, beard trimmed down into a pristine stubble of black and white that makes his face look slimmer than it actually is. He reminds her of someone.

“Partly,” she admits. “I also just needed a break, change of scenery. You know, the usual.”

“Sooyoung mentioned you’ve been having some trouble with your love life.”

“Christ. Did Soo tell you everything?”

“Only the necessary,” he shrugs. “I guess she thought I might be able to help you with some advice. Old men like me have to share their wisdom, otherwise we explode. So, fill me in. The girl, the business, everything.”

“I appreciate the offer, Steve,” she says, trying to be polite, “But I don’t know you. I’m not exactly comfortable talking about my personal life with a stranger.”

“What else are strangers for though?” His smile is easy and unoffended. He leans back in his chair comfortably, as though he were lounging at home. “When talking to people you don’t know, who have no connection or affiliation to the rest of your life…that’s when you can be really honest. That’s why people go to therapy, isn’t it?”

“I get it, but, uh…” she lifts her shoulders and lets them drop again. “I’m good. Thanks.”

“I’m going to be frank with you, Yoona,” he taps idly at the tabletop. “I hate shallow conversation. And I especially hate people who only know how to have shallow conversation. From what Soo tells me, you’re not one of those people. But you’re proving otherwise.”

“What-“

“I think you’re scared.” He states bluntly, shrugging his shoulders.

“Well, I think I just don’t feel comfortable being open with someone I’ve known for five minutes.” She shrugs back, and leans in her seat, mirroring his posture.

He laughs. “You’re hard to break down. I like that.” With a wave of his hand, he gestures the waiter over and orders something that Yoona understands is alcoholic.

“I’m trying to stay away from drinking right now,” she tells him as three shot glasses are put down in front of her.

He shifts forward and plants his elbows on the table. “You an alcoholic?”

“No,” she answers.

“Good.” He takes the glass in his large hand and throws the liquid into the back of his throat. “My father used to be.”

“I’m…sorry?” she says, awkward.

“Don’t be. Most people’s fathers are almost alcoholics. If not, actual alcoholics.” He rolls the empty glass between his fingers. “I hate the stuff, honestly. The only thing its good for is breaking down pretence.” He clinks the glass down. “There. I’ve told you about my borderline alcoholic father. Now you have to tell me something about you.”

“Is this some kind of trade-off? Trauma for trauma?”

“Yup. Now take a shot to loosen yourself and get on with it.”

She looks at the three shots of alcohol sitting in front of her, crystal clear and pure in appearance. She’d been drunk in many cities, lost in many cities, sat in little restaurants like this one. It’s a familiar feeling.

She downs the shot with a practiced ease but still grimaces at the astringent taste it leaves on her tongue. She looks at Steve from across the table, and it suddenly occurs to her who he reminds her of.

Joon.

And it makes her feel a little sad in her heart, a little nauseous in her stomach.

* * *

Yoona realises how sick she is of talking about herself only after she finishes catching Steve up on her situation. All she’s done for the last two months is explain to people why she’s still chasing a girl who’s engaged to someone else. is sore, and the more she explains, the more she begins to realise how fruitless and thoughtless her endeavours have been thus far.

Retrospect is irreplaceably valuable, but it also stings like vodka on broken skin.

“To put yourself through all that…you must be a masochist.” Steve says, cradling his chin in his hand.

“It wasn’t painful at the time.” She says thoughtfully, pressing her nail into the side of the table. She thinks of Jessica, she thinks of her smile, the space between her nose and lips. “In fact, it felt so good that any pain wasn’t even worth acknowledging.”

“You ever think you’re self-sabotaging?” Steve suggests after a moment. His demeanour has warmed considerably and she feels at home with him, as though his big broad shoulders have cocooned her into respite.

“Like I’m ing myself up on purpose?”

Steve nods. “Making things harder for yourself for the sake of it…making sure you fail.”

“Sounds about right.” Yoona laughs to herself a little, “I’ve spent a lot of time wondering if I’ve ever actually achieved anything in my life.”

“I think you do it because you don’t think you deserve better. I think you do it because, like I said earlier, you’re scared.” Steve wets his lips.

Yoona is not drunk, in fact there is only a mild tingle in , but this statement seems to sober her considerably. She forces a smile. “Scared?”

“We all become comfortable in uncomfortable situations eventually. It’s human to adapt. And I think you’re so used to running away that staying put is actually more exhausting for you. Am I right?”

She rubs her tongue along her front teeth. “Maybe. I guess.”

“I also think it’s why you’re reluctant to take Soo up on her offer.” He adds. “You’re so used to working jobs you hate, that working a job you like is probably petrifying.”

“Alright, I get it. I’m a scared little wuss.” She turns her gaze down to her arms, folded tight against her chest. A scared little wuss. That’s all she is. That’s all she’s ever felt that she is.

“I’m gonna tell you a story I told Sooyoung way back when. I think you need to hear it.” He inhales through his nose and his eyes find her slowly, lazily almost, as though he has all the time to waste in the world.

“It better not be one of those ‘when I was your age’ old man stories.” She jibes, hiding how raw her insides feel.

“Oh it is,” he leans his elbows on the table, “But it’s a good one. I promise.”

Yoona nods and leans forward, gesturing him to begin, silently dying to hear something that isn’t her own voice.

“I came from nothing,” he says. “My mother did her best, but my father was a sad, misled man and I spent most of my youth resenting him. When I was a bit younger than you are now, I moved to the city to make something of myself, absolutely desperate to be nothing like dad. I landed a sales job in a little telecom office selling absolute rubbish to old people and I took to it like a fish to water.” A smile came to his mouth. It was small and melancholic. “Within a