Sunday is spent trying to swim back to reality, from that truth she just admitted to herself mere days before, and the weekend she’s currently spending in her apartment while constantly exchanging messages with Irene who’s back at Daegu for a quick visit.

They’re now in the middle of some sort of photo war, where they send each other the most random pictures they can think about.

Seulgi has just snapped a selca of her with two pieces of Pringles tucked in , on top of each other like a beak. She sends it to Irene as a reply to the photo of Irene’s hands cutting some cabbages up, captioned: cannibalism?

(She’d spent the better part of five minutes laughing at that, even though she’s seen it coming all the way from Daegu.

Heol, she has it bad.)

Seulgi puts her phone down, and then glances at the clock hanging on her wall. It’s just four minutes after ten in the morning, but she still boots up her laptop and navigates to the closed group she and her advisory class have on Facebook (no one ever uses the school’s student portal); clicks on the status box and starts typing.

Fyi, we’re moving to the Roman Era starting this Monday, her message to the class goes. Please do some advance reading on the deities, especially the twelve great gods.

Seulgi’s just about to attach the reading materials when a new post appears. Kim Yerimie pops up on her screen, and for a boatload of known reasons, Seulgi’s heart pops out of her chest.

(She wants to think that it’s just pure coincidence that Yeri’s suddenly on Facebook the same time she got on. But it’s Yeri, so, yeah, probably not.)

Seulgi scrolls down to put the post in the middle of her screen, and yet, when she finally sees it, she wishes she hadn’t, because ignorance would be such a welcomed bliss at a time like this.

It wasn’t her fault that she was tired that night, and that Irene felt so warm against her side, and that the scent of Irene’s hair had her drowning straight into the state of half-asleep that she inevitably fell into.

It wasn’t her fault that her cheek landed on the crown of Irene’s hair, and that her arm s lazily around Irene’s waist, and that they looked all cuddled up like this.

No one was going to be the wiser, but Yeri just had to be Satan’s spawn at that moment and just had to snap a picture of them.

And now the entire class is going to see it—if they already haven't—and Seulgi’s going to have to endure the endless teasing till God knows when.

Hi all, the post reads, when Seulgi finally has gotten the will to look away.

(They looked cute, so much so that Seulgi feels the flutter in her heart grow stronger the longer she stares.)

Please study the perfection of this photo, the rest of it says. Seulgi can only shake her head, and thank the universe that it's a closed group that Irene isn't a part of.

But she does leave a comment, full naming Yeri to rattle her a little (in the slightest off chance; Yeri doesn't seem to get rattled by anything). I don't see how this is related to any of your subjects, Miss Kim Yerim.

Three dots appear as Yeri types a reply; Seulgi briefly contemplates the kind of murder she'd get away with, and if Moonbyul and Wendy would help her hide the body.

There's a telltale ping as the reply to her comment appears below. It's for science, Seonsaengnim. Introduction to Chemistry.

Another one follows, and Seulgi so does not laugh out loud.

Disliking won't get you anywhere, Chewy.

Really though, Seulgi won't trade her students for the world.

...

 

Or maybe, she will.

Especially when the words So Joy just showed me a very interesting picture are staring right back at her, with Juhyun as the name of the sender.

Seulgi’s face twists into a horrified grimace as she wonders what her beloved students have done now.

She’s almost afraid to tap on the notification preview and pull the entire message up, but it's Irene, and the magnitude of Seulgi’s feelings for her is way more stronger than everything else.

So she presses on, half of her brain already stringing excuses that would hold enough to get her out of any mortifyingly sticky situation.

The message only does say what she's already read, though. Nothing follows it, so Seulgi thumbs a quick yeah? with her heart up in .

She's admittedly already expecting to see the same photo on Yeri’s post—Joy and her aren't dubbed the Satan twins for nothing—when the gray square pops up. (The few seconds it takes to load the photo may or may not be the longest in Seulgi’s young life.)

And when it does appear, Seulgi sort of just wants to disappear off the face of the earth because Joy just had to send a screen capture of Yeri’s entire post—caption and all. Satan twins indeed.

Upon studying the perfection of this photo, Irene’s next message reads. Seulgi feels the tips of her ears burn, and her knees buckle even though she’s already sitting and Irene isn’t even anywhere near. I’ve come to the conclusion that we look cute.

falls open at that, jaw dropping straight to the floor. The message leaves her completely floundering that all she can do is fire an oh my god as a reply, which she barely even manages to do with how bad her fingers are shaking.

Yet, her everything trembles as she gets a new one that goes: you know what’s even more cute?

And with it is a different photo—more of Seulgi alone than the two of them together that Yeri, the Devil Incarnate must’ve sent to Irene for kicks—and she looks like a bear ready to hibernate at any given moment.

Seulgi feels her head swell, like there’s suddenly air everywhere and she could either float away or explode. One of which is honestly a better option than what is happening right now.

She’s left staring at the picture as the seconds tick by and the three dots do not appear inside the message box. It’s a really unflattering picture of her, Seulgi loaths to admit, the bear ears plopped askew on top of her head that it looked like she had three ears instead of four.

The only good thing about it is that wasn’t hanging open or anything, and her nose wasn’t scrunched the way it usually is when she sleeps. Her eyes were completely closed too, not half open, or worse completely open while she was asleep, and Seulgi finds herself sending a silent thank you to the powers that be for that.

Still, it’s incredibly unflattering, and Seulgi honestly has no idea why Irene would set it as her phone’s lock screen wallpaper—

—Wait.

Seulgi taps on the picture again with a (violently) shaking thumb, pinches out the bottom part with two fingers to bring that portion of the image closer.

And there, below, scrawled across her picture’s upper torso, Seulgi sees the familiar metallic glint of Slide to unlock, and her heart races so fast like it wants to leap out of her chest, run its way to Daegu and jump straight into Irene’s hands, all the while screaming it’s yours, it’s yours right from the start.

...

 

Monday comes with a feeling of dread that rolls in Seulgi’s stomach, dropping into the pit of her gut.

Granted, Irene’s done nothing but all night, and all she can do in retaliation was send unamused stickers and emojis, all the while trying not to spew her anxiety out, or worse, her feelings.

(She doesn’t have any pictures of Irene, okay? And she refuses to grab even one from any of Irene’s barely updated SNS accounts just to get back at her.

She may be a woman in love, but Kang Seul Gi is not a creepy stalker.)

Last night feels like she and Irene have crossed the line they’ve been dancing around, at some point between staying up with Irene until it’s two past midnight and she’s safely tucked in her bed at her apartment in Seoul, and agreeing to meet for breakfast first thing in the morning (or five hours after Irene has bid her goodnight, really).

So here is Seulgi, standing outside the cafe six minutes away from Kaizan High, her black messenger bag hooked on her shoulder as she patiently waits for Irene.

She’s earlier than the time they’re supposed to meet, because her brain has refused to let her sleep, and there really wasn’t anything left to do but prepare for work and for this once six am had hit.

Though, she spots Irene just two minutes after getting there, looking ethereal in this flowy, blue flower-patterned dress she has donned that falls a few inches past her knees.

She’s early just like Seulgi is, and she’s smiling at her like she missed her, and now Seulgi can’t honestly remember what she has been dreading about that kept her up all night.

Not when Irene takes her by the hand and pulls her inside the cafe, and Irene’s melodious laugh fills her ears as she tells Seulgi the story about how her younger brother careened down the hill while trying to to teach her how to ride a bike.

...

 

“You look different today, Seonsaengnim,” Yeri says just as Seulgi wraps up their Homeroom period.

Seulgi looks up from the stack of books she's gathering in her arms, throws the younger girl a puzzled look. “I do?”

Yeri hums, tilting her head. She grins at Seulgi next, then, says, “You look like you had some Iodine, Rhenium and Neon in your system.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Seulgi answers. “And I'm no science expert, but I'm pretty sure Neon is poison.”

From beside Yeri, Joy singsongs. “I told you she's not going to get it.”

She thinks Yeri is about to give up, but the younger girl simply swings her crossed leg, and if anything, her grin grows wider. “Seonsaengnim, you should ask a Science teacher.”

“Aish, you kids,” Seulgi grumbles goodnaturedly. “Enough with the meddling, okay? Go easy on Irene-ssi today. She’s probably still tired from her weekend in Daegu.”

A titter rolls across the classroom, with Wheein’s snicker being the loudest. Seulgi, for her part, frowns as she stares at her students, wondering what it is now.

But it doesn’t take long for her to find out, when Hyejin innocently—though her smile is anything but—asks, “How did you know Irene-seonsaengnim spent her weekend in Daegu?”

Seulgi pulls the pile of books close to her chest, like it's some sort of shield that will protect her from SinB’s knowing smirk that flies from the back of the room all the way to the front.

She holds her head high, refusing to meet anyone's gaze as she replies, “It's for me to know, and for none of you to ever find out.”

.

 

She walks out of her classroom with her head held high and, thankfully, still with her pride intact despite the furious blush she leaves in her wake.

Irene meets her by the door, ready to start her lessons with her favorite class. Seulgi tries really hard not to beam at her or something, but her lips tug of their own accord.

(Seulgi thinks she barely even owns anything now. Irene’s got Seulgi’s everything: her head where Irene keeps on running, her students’ affection, that space in her heart that only two people have ever managed to fill.

And now she’s got her own Seulgi smile, the kind that pulls Seulgi’s cheeks up as her nose scrunches, eyes disappearing behind crescent lids.)

“Hey,” greets Irene. She raises a hand, pinky finger carefully brushing the stray locks of Seulgi’s hair away from her eyes.

Seulgi’s grip on her books loosens, fingers uncurling around the spines as she quickly turns putty in Irene’s soft touch.

“How are the kids today?”

“Hopefully a little calmer,” Seulgi answers, and she can't help the smile that surfaces at the little bit of Satoori that slips out of Irene’s tone (she's always like this after spending a weekend back home, her accent sticking around for at least a day).

She chances a glance over her shoulder next, to look at her students—well to check on Joy, really. “It’s Monday after all.”

(Her students tend to go crazier as the days of a school week passes; Mondays are the most peaceful they’d ever get.)

Irene follows her gaze, leaning a little to the side as she looks past the glass windows and hums. “How does a pop quiz sound?”

Seulgi yells out a ha that sounds triumphant, as if it’s some sort of revenge that Irene’s enacting on her behalf; tacks on a fantastic that sounds a little too gleeful for simply being a co-teacher’s opinion.

.

 

She’s about to head to her own first class when Yeri’s words rings in her ears again. And so, Seulgi spins around at the last second, then calls out, “Hyun-ah?”

Irene retracts the hand reaching for 3D’s door and looks over her shoulder, smiling at Seulgi. “Yes, Seul?”

Seulgi pockets both of hers as she looks shyly at the other woman. She would have not asked, but Science has never been her forte, and she’d rather know what Yeri was exactly talking about, especially if it involved chemical elements. “Do you know what Iodine, Rhenium and Neon make? Is it some kind of chemical combination formula thingy?”

Irene bites at her bottom lip. She lets the hand hovering above the door handle fall limply at her side, and then turns around to face Seulgi completely. “Why do you ask?”

Seulgi shrugs, feigning nonchalance even though she wants to just outright say it that Yeri may or may not be planning to blow something up—or God forbid, someone. So she says, “Just curious.”

The other woman hums, eyes narrowing playfully. Seulgi’s lips curl in turn, and then purse, her own eyes darting in different directions just so she won’t meet Irene’s gaze.

Irene chuckles at that. Then, she says, “It’s me, Seul.”

“Sorry?”

“It spells Irene,” she explains, which she finds hard with the way the corner of her lips are tugging into an amused smile at the burst of redness that fills Seulgi’s cheeks. “Well, their periodic symbols, at least.”

Honestly, Seulgi would rather have Yeri blow something up rather than melt into a puddle under Irene’s teasing gaze.

...

 

Spring comes, and with it is the festival season. Seulgi has spent their entire homeroom periods the past two days choosing a theme for this year’s festival and planning with her students.

Most of the other class advisers had left their students to work on their own, but Seulgi isn’t like most advisers, and her kids aren’t like most students.

Already, she’s had to shut down a carnival-themed horror house idea twice, partly because she can already see her students having too much fun with it, and partly because Irene is deathly afraid of clowns.

It’s the same reason she laid out to her students those two times they raised it: Wheein’s idea first that she never suggested again; seconded by Tzuyu as she reasoned out that Irene could always go with Bogum anyway.

(And now that's never going to happen. Bless those class adviser authority perks.)

But today, Seulgi’s seriously contemplating skipping Homeroom period altogether. A decision that’s solidifying each passing second that she sits in front of a sneezing Irene, in their now usual spot in this hole in the wall cafe they’ve been going to for breakfast for months now.

“You should’ve stayed home, Juhyun,” Seulgi says. She fishes a couple of tissues from the box Irene has brought with her, and hands them to the other woman.

Irene mumbles a stuffed thanks, and despite the constant sneezing, she musters a smile upon hearing the worry in Seulgi’s tone.

“You know I can’t, Seulgi-ah,” she defends before turning to her side and blowing her nose out as gently and as quietly as she can.

Seulgi doesn’t even flinch or grimace. Instead, she looks at Irene—all runny eyes and a red nose—like she wants to swaddle her up in the warmest of blankets, sit on the softest couch with her and watch food documentaries until they both fall asleep.

“Exams are just around the corner and I need to make sure all of my students get the right amount of review time. Besides, it’s just hay fever. It’ll pass.”

The younger teacher sighs, knowing that Irene is right. Still, that doesn’t mean she likes that Irene is pushing herself to her limits.

And yes, she knows Irene is her own person—a very, very independent woman who can make decisions for her own self—but Seulgi loves her. Seulgi loves her, even though Irene doesn’t know that (yet), and she can’t stand seeing her sick, looking like she’d pass out at any given minute.

So Seulgi asks—implores, really—one more time. “Are you sure, Hyun-ah?”

Irene nods, determined. “It’s too late to find a substitute anyway.”

“Alright,” she concedes, reaching a hand out to wipe the tear that trickles down from Irene’s puffy eyes, the pad of her thumb grazing from that spot and to the curve of Irene’s cheek. “But let me know if you start feeling real bad, okay? Like, text me or something.”

“Yes, dear,” Irene says. It’s teasing, but the way she leans into Seulgi’s cool, gentle touch is anything but.

.

 

Homeroom is a quiet affair, set in a different tone because Seulgi looks actually serious for once. Her voice is too, when she tells the entire class, “Irene-ssi is feeling real sick today. So please take it easy on her.”

“Ne, Seonsaengnim,” SinB assures, picking up on Seulgi’s mood right away.

“Seonsaengnim,” Yeri calls, in a worried tone of voice that Seulgi hears from her probably for the first time ever. “Should I go down to the clinic and get her some medicine?”

Seulgi tilts her head as she tries to remember if Irene has taken any medicine this morning. Though, she’s quite sure that Irene had not, because she knows that Irene hates the bitter taste of it.

“No, I’ll do it,” she answers, smiling softly at Yeri. “But thank you, Yeri-ah.”

The period still has a few minutes to spare, but, her normally lively class has turned quiet, as if they’re all collecting themselves to make sure that they don’t give Irene one bit of a headache.

(They’ve never done so, Seulgi knows this. Still, seeing them act this way makes her love her students even more.)

Even a usually loud Joy has her voice toned down when she says, “My mom gives me ginger tea when I’m sick, Seonsaengnim. Maybe that would help?”

Seulgi nods and thanks Joy too, promising to check their cafeteria out for any ginger tea. Though she already has an inkling that she’d have to drop by the convenience store that’s a good ten minutes away from the school.

But it’s Irene. Seulgi doesn’t really care if the cure is on the other side of the world.

.

 

When she comes into view and Seulgi sees her through the glass windows, it takes quite a herculean effort—that Seulgi doesn’t really know where she’s dug deep from—not to run towards a sluggishly walking Irene.

She does widen her strides though, meeting Irene halfway as she turns in the hallway leading to class 3D’s room.

Irene looks even more lethargic than Seulgi’s last seen her, and that was just twenty two minutes ago. Her arms are trembling from the papers sandwiched in between, and the dainty weight of the tote bag slung on her shoulder.

“Here, let me help,” Seulgi offers right away. Irene doesn’t fight it, letting Seulgi take the papers and her bag from her.

She follows Seulgi inside the classroom, greeting her students with a smile she now has to force, what with her entire body suddenly feeling like lead that’s too heavy to carry.

has gone even more scratchy now too, evident in the hey guys she says that comes out in a husk.

Seulgi sets Irene’s things on top of the desk, and then quietly whispers, “Text me after your class ends, okay? I’ll take you to your next one.”

“Okay.”

She’s barely able to resist pressing a palm on Irene’s cheek to gauge her temperature, leaving the room before she does something worse, like planting a kiss on her forehead because she’s heard that that works better.

...

 

Irene admittedly has no idea how she’s going to last throughout the day feeling like this. But she’s a teacher, and there are thirty two eager—yet worried—faces waiting for her to speak, so she soldiers on.

Yet, it’s not even fifteen minutes since she’s started her lesson, and there’s already a knock on the classroom door.

Irene nods at Yerin to open it. Seulgi’s head pops up in the ample space between the door and its frame as it creaks open, scratching the back of her neck when she realizes that thirty three sets of eyes are all on her.

“Uhm, can I borrow Irene-ssi for a minute?”

Irene caps the marker back on and then sets it down, a sign that she’s taking the invitation. She follows Seulgi out of the room, past the hallway, and turns into a poorly secluded corner.

(Seulgi knows that her students can still see the two of them, but she can’t really have Irene wander far from the room.)

“Is everything okay?” Irene asks, though her voice fades at the end and Seulgi sort of wants to pick a fight with mother nature for sprinkling pollens all over the lovely Spring.

“Yeah, but,” Seulgi starts to say, then, she lifts the small brown paper bag she’s carrying in her hands, and fishes out the mat of medicine tablets she got from the clinic. (With Doctor Hwang’s approval of course, after she has ensured that she has described all of Irene’s symptoms down to a tee.) “You should really take some medicine to help make you feel better.”

Irene stares at the small white tablets, face twisting into a grimace as she imagines the bitterness it will leave in her tongue. She looks up at Seulgi, pouting her way out of it. “Do I have to?”

It doesn’t really take effect, because while Seulgi’s always going to be weak for Irene’s pouts, her concern for Irene’s welfare beats that. “Yes,” the younger teacher says, stern and firm.

Irene grumbles like a little kid being forced to eat her green peas, and Seulgi has to clamp her lips together to stop herself from breaking into a giggle.

She hands Irene the mat, and watches her like a hawk while her hands twist a warm bottle of water open. She gives it to Irene next, that the other woman drinks right away to swallow the medicine and wash off the taste.

Seulgi chucks the now empty bottle back into the paper bag to throw away later, and then tucks the medicine mat in the back pocket of her jeans. She shrugs her dark blue coat off next, the one she's snagged from her chair at the faculty room as soon as she’s noted the way Irene has been trying to suppress a shiver since this morning.

She drapes it around Irene’s shoulders, the hem falling past Irene’s waist that she looks even smaller now.

(Still the prettiest, though.)

Irene blinks, eyeing the coat with an astonished look. “B-but…” she starts to say, though ultimately, she fails.

Seulgi raises one brow in confusion. “But what?”

“What about you?”

“I’m okay,” she reassures. “You need it more than I do.”

Irene opens to answer, yet nothing comes out. She swallows visibly, and feels like she should be swooning now or something, because, really.

Yet, her silence sends Seulgi into a nervous ramble. “Unless you know... you think that you don't need it. I can take it back.”

Irene shifts her gaze and looks at Seulgi. closes up, and she honestly can’t tell if it’s the tenderness in Seulgi’s eyes, or the fever that's starting to get to her head, or just everything that has happened in between them that’s taking all of the air away, making her heart turnover beneath her chest.

“Juhyun?”

“I think,” Irene’s breaths start to get uneven, her clammy hands clutching at the lapels of Seulgi's coat as she pulls them to a close. “I t-think...”

“Hyun-ah,” Seulgi begins to worry. “Are you okay?”

“I think I love you.”

.

 

Seulgi stands open mouthed and wide eyed. Irene catches herself completely by surprise.

It’s been five minutes—five grueling minutes—and Seulgi’s still standing there like she’s been smacked right in the face, unblinking.

Irene feels her eyes sting, suddenly running dry in a way that does not stem from her allergies at all.

Seulgi doesn’t even look like she’s breathing, and Irene feels like slapping herself for blurting it out unthinkingly. For blurting it out just like that, when she’s been careful all this time so as not to scare Seulgi away.

Irene lowers her head; swallows real hard when she feels her heart lodge itself in , and she frankly can’t tell whether she’s sad or disappointed or humiliated with Seulgi’s lack of response.

The air around them feels thicker, and Irene knows she somehow needs to escape; a breather, so she says, “I should go.” She starts to move. “I need to get back to class.”

Though, it’s the only thing Seulgi needs to snap out of whatever state of mind she’s just gotten into. She quickly grabs Irene by the hand to stop her from completely walking away, fingers wrapping around Irene’s wrist in the most gentle of ways.

“Wh—what was that?” She finally speaks, with a certain sense of urgency that Irene doesn’t miss.

Irene's completely hesitant—Seulgi can feel it from the way she shakes Seulgi’s hand off of hers—understandably so because she feels that she’s said something she can't ever repeat to anyone ever again.

If it’s those three words is what she assumes Seulgi is talking about, she’d refuse because she honestly feels like she’s embarrassed herself for ten lifetimes already.

“Can you say it again?” Seulgi repeats when Irene just gazes at her wordlessly, eyes completely wide and glistening with the tears stubbornly resisting her efforts of pushing them back.

Seulgi looks too stunned and in complete disbelief, like she has just witnessed Irene sprouting another head, and Irene honestly doesn't know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

The younger teacher’s expression doesn’t really give anything away—though the way Seulgi’s mouth falls open as her forehead crumples while she blinks at her nonstop doesn’t really instill confidence—so Irene presses her lips together and drops her gaze onto the floor, at the spot where her right foot meets the tip of Seulgi’s shoe.

She’d have to move away, Irene starts to think, or avoid Seulgi like a plague throughout the rest of her stay at Kaizan High. She’d have to come a minute or two late to her classes with 3D, and spend lunches alone in the faculty break room that no one ever uses.

She’d have to get breakfast at home now.

And make bentos for one.

Go back to walking home by herself, and not read the sweetest lines from Neruda at random times of the day.

Sleep without a goodnight that lights up her phone every night.

To put it simply, she’d have to learn how to live without Seulgi, and God, Irene has no idea how on earth she’s going to do that when she’s been living for Seulgi’s smiles for months now.

The thought has her swallowing down a choked sob—she’s still in the middle of an open hallway after all; granted it’s empty, but it’s open, and she’s sure that Seulgi’s students will find a way to listen in—though if anyone asks, she’s going to blame the haze of her fever clouding her brain.

“A-are you crying, Juhyun?” Seulgi says, eyes growing wide along with the panic that weaves through her tone.

Irene shakes her head in answer, and lets the movement ruffle her hair so that it falls like a curtain over her face.

She likes to think that she has been successful in hiding, but then there’s a sniffle that betrays all of her effort, and the next thing Irene knows, she’s being engulfed in warmth, encased in strong yet gentle arms and surrounded by Seulgi’s scent.

Mumbled apologies fill her ears as she hears Seulgi’s soft voice. “Oh my God, I’m sorry!”

Irene feels a hand run up and down her back, the warmth of Seulgi’s palm seeping through the coat and shooting a jolt straight to Irene’s spine, making her shudder.

Seulgi takes it—takes the shake of Irene’s shoulders as her crying even more, so she pulls her impossibly closer, and guides Irene’s head to rest at the crook of her neck.

“Mianhaeyo,” she says, in the softest tone of voice she can muster. “I thought I was dreaming. I thought I heard you wrong, Hyun.”

Irene heaves a deep, uneven breath: partly due to her colds; mostly due to the tightness still squeezing her chest.

Though, she feels ensuing chapped lips press against her temple, and it’s only then that the weight starts to ease off of her ribcage.

Yet as she feels her body shift, as she feels Seulgi sway the both of them in a slow circle, the weight chips away in time with the beats and the thrums of her heart.

Until it all ebbs away just as Seulgi’s lips slide to the top of her head.

It gives Irene enough certainty to pull back and look at Seulgi. But when she moves, Seulgi groans in protest, making some kind of noise that Irene has no face to match with as she disentangles herself from the taller girl.

(But Seulgi doesn’t let her go completely. She makes sure that the hands wrapped around Irene’s waist stay, sure and steady as her fingers meet at the small of Irene’s back.)

And when she finally meets Seulgi’s eyes, Irene almost physically feels her heart beating its way out of her chest. But this time, for an entirely different reason.

Maybe it’s the glimmer in Seulgi’s eyes, or the apologetic yet elated smile in Seulgi’s lips, or the way Seulgi says her name—sweet yet like she’s being unraveled one heartstring at a time. “Juhyun-ah.”

Then, Seulgi says, “Can I keep you?”

And Irene feels like crying all over again; Seulgi swears she has not seen anything as beautiful as Irene at this moment.

.

 

In the end, Irene just lets out a soft laugh, and then runs a tongue through her teeth. She slides her hands trapped in between her and Seulgi upwards, letting them rest on each of Seulgi’s shoulders. “Out of all the words you know, you quote Casper to me?”

Seulgi laughs with her. “It’s a classic!”

“Most people would go for Neruda. But you, you go with Casper.”

Seulgi beams at Irene, clearly playful and completely amused. Though, Irene can feel every ounce of sincerity in the way that Seulgi tenderly wipes the tears off of her cheeks.

“I’m not most people.”

“No,” Irene sighs, and it’s lighthearted. A huge contrast from the jagged breaths she’s catching up in just moments ago. “No you’re not. But I swear I’m breaking up with you if we start floating in the air.”

“Oh,” Seulgi breathes out. Her head pulls back a little in surprise, but an giddy, whimsical smile quickly takes over her face at the thought of her and Irene together. (It’s not like it’s the only thing she’s been dreaming about for the past seven months—oh, wait.) “We're dating, huh?”

“Oh yes,” answers Irene. She smirks at Seulgi—and that shouldn’t be attractive, Seulgi thinks, because Irene has hay fever, and her eyes are puffy, and her nose is red, and it’s totally not fair—then says, “That Casper line got me hook, line and sinker.”

At Irene's teasing tone, a constrained sound escapes from Seulgi’s throat. “Hyun, I'm serious!”

Irene chuckles, and Seulgi has to resist the urge to press a kiss on Irene’s lips because they’re nowhere near the right place, and there are far more important matters at hand.

“I am too. I thought my lock screen made that pretty clear?”

“Yeah, well,” mumbles Seulgi, fighting the blush that’s spreading fast on her cheeks. “You know me.”

“I do,” Irene agrees. She inches closer to Seulgi again, into her personal space that Seulgi willingly gives away—and goodness, they’re gonna be that couple, aren’t they?—enough that she can feel Seulgi’s breaths on her temple. “You can tell Neruda from E.E. s, but not have a single clue about what I feel for you.”

Seulgi laughs softly as she tucks Irene’s hair behind her ears, before pressing a lingering kiss on Irene’s forehead, just because she can.

.

 

There’s a whoop from somewhere in the hallway that Seulgi’s sure she isn’t supposed to hear, followed by the squeaking of shoes and the click of the door that has been hurriedly closed.

Seulgi breaks away, but she still holds Irene against her, not wanting to let go of the warmth just yet—they should really talk about that, because Irene needs rest and Seulgi just really, really wants to take care of her—and then looks over her shoulder to the glass windows.

None of her students seem to have moved from their seat, but Seulgi knows better. She’d have words with them later, maybe wedge a thank you in between the lectures because despite all the stunts, Seulgi really does owe her students this.

For now, she takes Irene’s hands in hers and rubs some warmth in them, blowing hot air in between the spaces as her lips ghost Irene’s knuckles.

Irene gazes fondly at her in turn, gazes at her like everything just fell into place in the most unexpected moment and she can’t really ask for anything more.

And when Seulgi leads her by the hand and helps her get back inside the classroom, makes her students promise a second time to not give Irene-seonsaengnim a hard time until she’s all better, Irene thinks, she really can’t.

...

 

Even more so when Seulgi stands right in front of the class, facing her, and then says, “Hey Hyun, can you guess from whose poem is this?”

Irene sniffs once, taking the folds of tissue that Seulgi pulls from a newly bought box. “Okay?”

From somewhere in the background, there’s a gasp that Seulgi entirely ignores. Her eyes don’t leave Irene’s, just as Irene gazes right back at her. (Though, Irene’s eyes do flicker down as they follow the way Seulgi’s teeth tugs at her bottom lip; something that Seulgi wouldn’t really mind becoming a habit.)

Then, Seulgi speaks. “There aren’t words to describe how I feel about you.”

“That doesn’t sound like Neruda or E.E. s at all,” Irene frowns, tilting her head. Though, the flush that heats up her cheeks is anything but her fever running, because the words still came from Seulgi’s mouth and that (of course) sends her heart straight into flutters.

“I know,” the younger teacher replies. She lowers her head, suddenly looking shyly at Irene from under her lids. As if she’s realizing at the last minute that whatever it is she’s trying to pull is not as swell as she originally thought. “It’s uhm, it’s Kang Seulgi’s.”

But, judging by the screams that suddenly engulfs the whole room, and the way Irene playfully punches her at the stomach before tucking herself in Seulgi’s warmth and burying her laugh into Seulgi’s neck, Seulgi thinks she got it just right.

 

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this is it guys, the last chapter! i would just like to thank everyone who gave this story a chance, and those who upvoted, subscribed and left a comment. please accept my heartfelt thank you. <3