Sequel to Paint Me

Make Me Feel
Janelle Monae

 

Jung Wheein slams down her pen and reaches for the phone after the fifth buzz. She has been trying to block it all out and focus on her work, especially knowing what awaits her as soon as she flips over her phone. Sure enough, she is met with a wall of messages, none of which are helpful to her studies.

 

Most of it are from Yongsun, her childhood best friend of twenty years.

 

Hey, let’s have lunch, she reads. She rolls her eyes—it always starts innocuous enough.

 

Come over. I’ll cook.

 

Byul is working.

 

I’m bored.

 

Come over.

 

Wheein shakes her head. Admittedly, she is hungry, but she is still secretly mad at Yongsun.

 

Meet at usual restaurant, she types back.

 

Yongsun answers immediately. No, come over.

 

Wheein frowns. No, I’m not hungry, she lies.

 

Don’t lie, you dumb pup. Come over right now! I know you don’t have class!!

 

Wheein curses audibly, garnering a few looks from the people around her in the library. There is only one option, she thinks as she scrolls past Yongsun’s messages and runs her eyes over The Text—ignore her.

 

Jung Wheein is many things. She is smart, personable, and charming when she wants to be, yes, but she is not good at relationships. Of any kind. After all the fragile connections over the years, having a best friend for twenty years keeps her anchored—even after she was forced to share said best friend. In fact, she likes Byulyi a lot. She likes seeing Yongsun happy. She likes all of the comfortable parts of their familiar bond.

 

She does not like what Byulyi brought into her life. The little red bubble in her phone, denoting her one unread message—it’s been haunting her every day since The Text came in a week ago. She knows exactly what it says; she read it when it came in. Read it again a thousand times over in her precious notifications.

 

When will I see you next, beautiful?

 

She mouths the message to herself as her thumb hovers over the red bubble.

 

The Text was from Ahn Hyejin, the wildest, most beautiful hurricane Wheein has ever seen.

 

Dear god, what could she possibly say to a woman like that?

 

She had taken her phone number without her even realizing, having been drunk out of her mind on the night of their triple date, and left a piece of her inside. As for Wheein—well, really, what can she say? She mulled over it day after day, and as the days passed, it became harder and harder to reply. Finally, she convinces herself that it would be better if she says nothing at all. Opts for beating herself up over it instead.

 

Stupid Yongsun and her stupid girlfriend and their stupid triple date.

 

She isn’t surprised when Hyejin doesn’t message her again. A woman like her must have no trouble finding a date, and it isn’t like Wheein left a particularly good impression when she met her last week at Yongsun and Byulyi’s anniversary dinner. She had been tongue-tied and stiff-limbed next to the other woman, with bouts of awkward laughter being her only contribution to the conversation. It had taken enormous amounts of alcohol to relax her jaw enough to speak, which ultimately led to—

 

She shakes her head. She doesn’t want to think about it.

 

Her phone buzzes again.

 

Stop ignoring me, Jung Wheein. You can’t run away from your problems forever.

 

“Watch me try, unnie,” she mutters under her breath.

 

Barbeque.

 

Wheein tries to ignore the incoming messages, though her stomach’s interest is definitely piqued.

 

I bought lots of meat.

 

“Unnie, stop,” Wheein grumbles, knowing full well she can’t hear her plea.

 

And just for you, a big bottle of soju.

 

And juuuust for you, I even have French fries.

 

Finally, Wheein snaps. Why? She types, slamming the letters down with the force of five middle fingers in Yongsun’s direction.

 

Because I miss you. I haven’t seen you in forever, and you’re ignoring me.

 

I’m not.

 

Come over then!!

 

Half an hour later, Wheein is walking down Yongsun’s block, happily thinking about all the food that awaited her. Images of glistening meat, ice cold soju, and golden French fries push all other thoughts out of her mind. Suddenly, she can’t even recall why she’s been avoiding Yongsun’s apartment in the first place.

 

“In the hot oil, I’m mending my body today,” she says, practically skipping as she recites her nonsensical poem in a sing-song voice, thinking again of the promised French fries. “I’m frying all my starch and exhausted thoughts.” She smiles as she begins to approach the door to the front lobby. “If I wait eleven minutes, I’ll be born into a new potato!”

 

“And you would be a very cute potato.”

 

Wheein’s blood freezes—everything is cold when she hears that familiar lilting voice behind her. She doesn’t move, her short-circuited brain somehow convincing her that if she stays still she will not draw any further attention to herself. No, no, no, no, no—

 

“Are you alright, little potato?” The voice catches up to her, until a face fills her vision, confirming her worst fears.

 

“H-Hyejin,” she greets weakly. “Hi.”

 

“Hi yourself,” she replies with a charming grin. “Are you here for lunch?”

 

Wheein nods stiffly. She takes in Hyejin’s outfit. The last time she saw her, she was fully made-up and dressed to the nines. Today, with her hair pulled up into a ponytail, her too-big T-shirt tucked into her too-big, paint-splattered jeans and steel-toed boots, she is somehow equally gorgeous. And Wheein just doesn’t know what to do with that information.

 

Why are you here? Wheein wants to ask during their silent elevator ride up to Yongsun’s apartment. She can feel Hyejin’s eyes, as piercing as if she were trying to see into her soul, and she can’t find the courage to speak.

 

“I’m helping Byulyi unnie redo the bathroom. Called me in for the afternoon since I had class in the morning,” Hyejin explains. Wheein turns to her with wide-eyes, and wonders briefly if she can read minds. It would explain a lot if Hyejin has supernatural powers. But Hyejin just laughs, and it takes everything not to shiver at the melody.

 

“You’re not much for talking, are you?” Hyejin ends with a resigned smile.

 

Wheein wants to say something, anything to prove her wrong, but what?

 

“You know I really did want to see you again.”

 

She doesn’t miss the flicker of a sad smile adorning Hyejin’s pretty features, a brief moment where she exposes a crack in her confidence. She opens this time, but the elevator dings and, once again, it’s too late.

 

Byulyi opens the door for them with a wide grin as they approach. Hyejin hugs her enthusiastically before calling out for Yongsun and disappearing behind the door, leaving Wheein alone out in the hallway, sheepishly trying to avoid Byulyi’s quizzical expression.

 

“Everything alright, Wheein?” she says in a low voice, stepping out into the hall and partially closing the door behind her.

 

Wheein takes a step back and scrunches her nose. “I’m fine, unnie. You’re being weird.”

 

Byulyi lifts a brow and looks frighteningly like Yongsun for a moment. “I’m not the one avoiding my friends, Wheeinie.”

 

Wheein shrugs. “You’re not the one with a final exam next week either.”

 

Byulyi studies her, as if probing for answers she already knows, and Wheein can’t help but squirm. Finally, she raises both hands in surrender. “Alright, alright,” she says in that obnoxiously knowing way of hers, “we’ll be here when you’re ready to talk.”

 

Wheein rolls her eyes. “Since when did I get two sets of crazy parents.”

 

“Since you encouraged Yongsun to keep me around,” Byulyi snickers.

 

“Worst decision ever,” Wheein mumbles. But the smile threatening the corners of her lips doesn’t go unnoticed, and she screeches when Byulyi’s hand comes down on her head, ruffling her meticulously combed hair. “Unnie, stop!” she whines.

 

“Let’s go,” Byulyi says instead, draping her arm around her. “Food’s getting cold.”

 

Lunch ends up being a surprisingly less awkward affair than she anticipated. It’s easier to fall in rhythm with her best friend than making a monster of her in the distant dimness of the campus library. Yongsun, at the very least, doesn’t bring up the avoiding. There’s a look in her eyes, as she eagerly serves them the meat from their little electric barbeque grill at the center of the kitchen table, that reminds Wheein to talk to her. That she knows something is off, despite the smiling and the joking.

 

And Wheein can’t help but relent. She slides her gaze over to Hyejin, who is animatedly talking to Byulyi about possible tile colours for the bathroom—who is absolutely inconsiderate of Wheein beside her when she flips her ponytail back and exposes the length of her elegant neck and the artistry of her jaw.

 

Wheein looks away.

 

Then, glances up to meet Yongsun’s twinkling eyes. With a wide smile, Yongsun lifts a piece of meat off the grill and onto Wheein’s plate.

 

“Wheein-ah, you’ve been working too hard lately. Byulie and I have missed you. You’ve been eating, I hope?”

 

What Yongsun means is I got you, and I will tease you later and Wheein is oddly comforted by the thought.

 

“Sorry, unnie,” Wheein says, chewing thoughtfully. With a straight face, she adds, “We can’t all be middle-aged ladies with no hobbies.”

 

“Wha—what’s that supposed to mean?” Yongsun splutters.

 

Beside her, Hyejin’s rich laughter fills the air, and Wheein has to concentrate very hard on Yongsun’s red face to ignore it.

 

“Well,” she goes on, “now that I’ve been on a triple date with you and your parents, and has had the misfortune of witnessing your practically married life for a year, I think I can safely say that you’re basically a middle aged woman.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“That’s true!” Hyejin intercepts with a broad grin. “This probably speaks more about Byulyi unnie than anything else, but no one likes Byulyi unnie more than middle aged women. It all makes so much sense!”

 

“Plus!” Wheein adds with building excitement, “you have tea regularly with your mother and Mrs. Lim and Mrs. Park. You can’t hide it from me, unnie. My mother is a blabbermouth, you know that.”

 

Yongsun looks up at Byulyi with such a horrified state of speechlessness then that Byulyi had to pull her close, and her hair. “It’s okay,” the young painter tries to soothe, “aging is natural. We’re all just on this journey called life together.”

 

“Yah!” Yongsun shoves her away, and slaps her lightly on the shoulder. “This is your fault! You’re the one who loves middle-aged women so much, you weirdo!”

 

Byulyi smiles sheepishly, and it would be conspiratory if she isn’t so earnest when she says, “I’m in love with you though. And I’ll love you from now, through your middle age, and beyond.”

 

Yongsun flushes crimson. “You greasy weirdo, you’re proving their point!” she huffs, sending a flurry of light slaps against Byulyi’s shielding arms, and sending her two younger friends into an uproar of laughter.

 

In the unrestrained glow of happiness as Wheein wipes the tears from the corner of her eyes, she exchanges a wide, open smile with Hyejin, and decides that she really likes her smile.

 

And that small step of admittance—it feels okay. Like she has finally found her footing somehow.

 

Like maybe she had been overthinking.

 

The next evening, Wheein decides to pay Yongsun a visit to make up for lost time. And not, of course, spy on their new friend or anything.

 

She arrives just outside Yongsun’s building when she hears her name being called.

 

“Wheein! Hey!”

 

She turns, just in time to see exactly the person she didn’t come to spy on. “Hyejin,” she greets coolly. But she’s all in her exposed-abs glory as she’s carrying a heavy-looking bucket of grey sludge, and Wheein has to really try not to stare—she really does—but her straining biceps and defined torso—it’s enough to make Adonis cry in shame. And she just kind of really wants to reach out and touch it. To see what it feels like. Instead, it takes all self-control she can muster to meet her twinkling eyes.

 

“No potato song today?” Hyejin teases lightly.

 

Wheein flushes, and continues walking, hoping she doesn’t see.

 

“Aw, wait up!” Hyejin calls from behind her.

 

She meets her inside the elevator, holding the door with her free hand as she grins down at Wheein. “You’re really skittish, aren’t you?” Hyejin says. She’s teasing her, but there was such an endearing quality to it, that all Wheein can do is stare at her shoes.

 

“I hope you will talk to me again someday,” Hyejin says wistfully. Wheein sneaks a glance beside her to see that she’s still smiling despite the resignation in her eyes. “Yesterday was a lot of fun, you know?”

 

“Yeah,” Wheein murmurs absentmindedly.

 

Hyejin’s smile broadens. “Yeah,” she echoes.

 

Once Yongsun’s door opens, Wheein is immediately accosted into the kitchen, where her friend is watching her with a big—too big—grin.

 

“What are you doing, unnie? You look super gross,” Wheein says with a deep frown.

 

Amazingly, Yongsun’s smile manages to widen even more.

 

“Wow, your mouth is huge. It must be like a black hole in there.”

 

But Yongsun ignores her.

 

“Our Wheeinie has a crush,” she says instead.

 

“Ew,” Wheein replies almost reflexively, crossing her arms, “Don’t project your weird sappy fantasies onto me.”

 

“Wheeinie has a crush,” Yongsun repeats, grabbing her hands and swinging them between them.

 

“I do not!” Wheein says, as firmly as possible to not betray her inner panic. She tugs her hands from Yongsun and scoffs. “I’m not as gross as you.”

 

“Aish, when did you learn to talk like that?”

 

“Just stating facts.”

 

Yongsun shook her head and reached into her pantry to pull out a pack of cookies. “I bought these for you too—Wheein treats. Ah, but all you do is bully me.”

 

Wheein scrunches her face and reaches out. “Gimme.”

 

“Say ‘treat, please,’” Yongsun teases.

 

Wheein groans. “How does Byulyi unnie put up with you.”

 

“She has no trouble asking for treats.”

 

Wheein snatches the pack of cookies from Yongsun’s hand, and rolls her eyes at her friend’s pout. “I really don’t need anymore disgusting imagery, unnie. It’s not fun now that you’re practically my parents.”

 

“You’re no fun,” Yongsun mumbles. Still, she doesn’t hesitate to pull Wheein toward the table and sit her down with a mug of already-steeping tea. As a sign of camaraderie, she even reaches forward to open the pack for her. “I still want to talk about what’s been happening though.”

 

“Oof, maybe I should’ve stayed home,” Wheein says, taking a bite out of the soft chocolate-chip sweetness. “It’s really nothing, unnie. I’ve just been really busy.”

 

Yongsun rolls her eyes. “I’ve seen you at your busiest, so don’t lie. You’re upset Byulyi brought Hyejin into your life—you can’t hide these things from unnie.”

 

“No,” says Wheein rather unconvincingly.

 

“I’ve known you almost all my life,” Yongsun continues softly, her tone suddenly somber. “I know how much you hate change. But I really thought it might be a good experience for you. You’ve come to terms with yourself years ago, but you never meet anybody.”

 

Wheein shrugs. “People are terrible. And I have you, so it’s okay.”

 

“Wheein-ah,” Yongsun says, resting her hand on Wheein’s forearm, “Hyejin is a good kid.”

 

“Since you guys like her so much, I’m sure I’ll get used to seeing her around eventually,” Wheein replies, nonchalantly folding the plastic wrapper between her fingers to trap the crumbs inside.

 

“She likes you.”

 

Just like that the footing she thought she found crumbles away, insecurity buffeting her like an avalanche when she is reminded of the truth. The fantasy she had created in her desperation to feel. She’s been here before, and knows, just knows, it’s too good to be true: real life goddesses don’t just waltz in ready to love. Especially not when your first meeting ends in a shamefully blank, drunken haze.

 

Wheein meets Yongsun’s eyes then, with the kind of intensity that only comes with absolute certainty: “She doesn’t.”

 

“Whee—”

 

“She doesn’t even know me. And you don’t know what happened.” How can she when even Wheein isn’t sure?

 

“If you just let me—”

 

“Stop!” Wheein cries, far louder than her bursting heart intends. She shrinks back into her chair, her voice as small as she feels as she fights back tears. Yongsun has been her best friend for over twenty years, so why—why— “Why aren’t you on my side?” She doesn’t mean to say it, but her disappointment rushes it out in a need to be heard. “Why can’t you see things from my point of view?”

 

Wheein is nothing if not stubborn. That much she had enough self-awareness to understand. A lifetime of insecurity built up her walls and—it’s a habit, she supposes—she hangs onto them for life.

 

As she storms out of Yongsun’s apartment, she hears her name and raises the walls higher. She jams her earphones into her ears and turns up the volume. Like a girl at the bottom of the well, she can’t see the world, and the rest of the world can’t see her.

 

That evening, she is back at her comfortable nook in the library when she flips her phone over to see a succession of messages.

 

Just after she stormed out, Yongsun writes, I didn’t mean to take sides. I love you and I’m worried about you.

 

Five minutes later, Talk again when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting.

 

The majority of her incoming messages, surprisingly enough, comes from Hyejin.

 

Hey, are you okay? Sorry I didn’t hear you leave. I’m here if you ever need some company.

 

Yongsun unnie seemed kind of upset. I hope you’re okay.

 

Ten minutes later, Hey, do you want to hear a joke?

 

What do you call a bee that produces milk?

 

Boo-bees.

 

Wheein snorts.

 

I hope that made you smile.

 

Your smile is beautiful.

 

Sorry I’m leaving so many messages. You may not like me much, but I can’t help but worry about you.

 

Ten minutes ago, I really hope you’re okay.

 

Wheein sighs. “What is this weirdo doing,” she mumbles, a smile faintly falling on her lips before her brain can pull it back.

 

Reluctantly, she replies with a quick I’m fine.

 

Good, comes Hyejin’s instantaneous response, come to the park near Yongsun unnie’s apartment. I have something to make you feel better.

 

Wheein raises a brow. Hyejin has been nothing by polite, and to see her make such a bold demand suddenly it—it does something funny to Wheein’s stomach.

 

Right now?

 

Yes. I’ll be waiting.

 

“Something to make me feel better,” Wheein mumbles. Her mind, against her will, taunts her with close-up images of her sculpted arms and flat stomach. Of tangled limbs and the scent of her hair, vaguely nostalgic in her mess of fanciful memories. And if she can lift all that grey sludge, she could probably lift her up and—

 

Wheein shakes her head and glares down at her book. To go or not to go—she scribbles a quick pros and cons chart in the corner of her notebook, and pencils “fear” in bolded letters in the cons column. In pros, she, in a moment of honesty with herself, writes down “abs”. Tempting, she thinks, but it doesn’t outweigh the fear. She sticks “curiosity” between the two columns, and that doesn’t really help.

 

“Sweet.”

 

“Stranger.”

 

She goes back and forth.

 

“Honest.”

 

“Intense.”

 

“Cute.”

 

“Too cute.”

 

“Bold.”

 

“Too bold.”

 

“Goofy smile.”

 

Her pencil stops, because she can’t help but think of the elevator ride and Hyejin’s big, open-hearted grin—just because she was polite enough to say a single word.

 

What could she possibly have done to deserve the attention of someone so sweet?

 

With a final sigh, she writes “confusing” underneath “curiosity” and loops several dark circles around it.

 

[Hyejin sent a photo]

 

Wheein glances over at her cell phone and frowns. What could it be now? Her thumb hesitates on the message, unsure if her emotions can handle the distraction of seeing Hyejin’s face while trying to solve this conundrum at the same time.

 

Still, curiosity—and definitely not toned arms and defined abs—gets the better of her and she opens the message.

 

Wheein barely manages to suppress the squeal when she sees the close-up pink nose of a fuzzy orange cat.

 

Look who I found! Hyejin writes. Come quick if you want to see him. I can only entertain him for so long!

 

Wheein bites her lip. She shouldn’t—she really shouldn’t. Especially when her list is so far from giving her any answers. She reasons to herself that she is just going to see the cat and it’s harmless fun. It’s not a date or anything.

 

Of course not, she decides as she shoves all her things inside her backpack.

 

Not a date, she repeats to herself as she is walking, jogging, then practically sprinting over to Yongsun’s apartment.

 

Hyejin is easy to find among the smattering of people in the park—all out for an evening stroll.

 

The sky is orange and dimming, the street lamps turning on to take its place, but the wind is rustling through the trees and the park is humming with soothing energy. Ordinarily, it would be a wonderful place to decompress and forget your worries. Even better, the place had cats trotting around like they owned the place.

 

But when Wheein found Hyejin on a yoga mat under the tree, cats—for once in her life—could not be further from her mind. Her skin-tight bicycle shorts and shirt-cropped-far-too-high invites her gaze and leaves little to her imagination. With her arms stretched and knees bent, her supple skin strains with quiet power, and it’s too much. It’s too, too much. This was truly, Wheein realizes in horror, a bad idea.

 

Hyejin’s eyes are closed as she holds her pose—it’s technically not too late to run away. Wheein begins to turn then, but Hyejin rustles. She stretches upwards, then down, folding her body into downward dog. Wheein can’t help but trace the shape of her body with her eyes, can’t help but linger on the shapeliness of her strong thighs and perfect .

 

In her peripheral, she can see that she’s not alone. A few guys mutter to themselves, stopping briefly to give Hyejin an appreciative gaze. Wheein wants to go over there and give them a good, swift kick them in the balls, but holds back when she blushes and realizes that she isn’t much better, so she settles for a glare that goes unnoticed.

 

When Hyejin finally opens her eyes, she catches Wheein’s dark expression and straightens up. Tossing a glance over her shoulder, she sees the guys scamper off and grins brightly.

 

“You came,” she says, holding back the excitement as much as she could. “I didn’t think you would come. You must really like cats.”

 

Wheein’s attention snaps to her. No—it’s too late! She moans silently. “H-hi,” she mumbles. “What are you doing?”

 

Hyejin bends over to pick up her mat—Wheein’s eyes dart away in a panic when she catches the first glimpse of her chest—and begins rolling it up. “Just some yoga. I find that it keeps me limber, which helps with all the heavy lifting. Less chance of getting injured, you know?”

 

“Did you just finish the bathroom?” Wheein asks.

 

Hyejin ties up her mat and, to Wheein’s immense relief, pulls on a thin jacket. Wheein quietly hopes that she would zip it up, so she didn’t have to be so distracted by her everything, but no such luck comes to her aid when Hyejin jogs over and drops the rolled-up mat at her feet.

 

“Yeah. We don’t have another job until next week, so it will give us a chance to relax for a bit. Um, I—sorry I couldn’t get the chance to say goodbye earlier,” Hyejin murmurs sheepishly, digging her hands into her jacket’s pockets.

 

Wheein shrugs.

 

“I do have a gift for you though.”

 

Before Wheein can ask, she is frozen by a faceful of hair, soft skin against her cheeks, and strong arms pulling her close. She squeaks in her attempt not to whimper, and her hands reflexively go up to return the hug, but hovers above Hyejin’s shoulder slightly, unsure what to do.

 

She smells like the ocean, and it makes her dizzy.

 

And they fit against each other so perfectly.

 

Oddly, it’s Hyejin who sighs, her breath so close to Wheein’s ear. A shiver runs down her spine when Hyejin’s lips brush the skin of her neck for the briefest of moments.

 

“You looked like you needed a hug,” Hyejin whispers with a nervous chuckle. Nervous? Wheein lowers her hands onto her shoulder and Hyejin stiffens, then melts in her hands. Melts.

 

“Maybe you’re the one who needed a hug,” Wheein teases shakily.

 

Hyejin pulls her even closer somehow, and Wheein can’t help but worry that her legs will eventually give way.

 

“Maybe I did.”

 

Wheein clears —she presses a palm on her shoulder and tries to push her away, but either her strength is gone or Hyejin can’t take the hint. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.

 

“Um, Hye—”

 

“Listen,” Hyejin murmurs. She relaxes her grip slightly, as if afraid Wheein would run away. “About that night…”

 

“It’s fine,” Wheein says quickly. “We were both a little drunk and maybe the energy in the room was a little...yeah.”

 

This time Hyejin does let go, but she doesn’t meet Wheein’s eyes, and Wheein finds herself drawing back into herself when, really, all she wants to do is reach out and take her hand. “Right,” she says, a steely edge to her voice. “If that’s what you want. I just...wanted you to know that...even if that night didn’t mean the same thing to you, I...I had a really good time and I had...really hoped that...it wasn’t a mistake.”

 

This is the moment that Wheein had been dreading since their meeting—and subsequently coerced date—a week ago. It should’ve been easy to forget the details of that night when the two of them, walls torn open by the stuffy dinner with the expensive champagne, had gone back to Hyejin’s apartment to continue drinking in peace. The truth is that Wheein doesn’t remember how she even got there. All she can recall are blurry snapshots blending fantasy and reality, and waking up on Hyejin’s carpet in a panic. She was partly dressed and tangled up in Hyejin and nothing else seemed to make sense. But when Hyejin had smiled at her that morning and had sent her The Text, it was almost too perfect.

 

So it was here, in the middle of the park, where Hyejin stood before her, looking more vulnerable than she thought possible for the normally confident girl, that she felt compelled to tell the truth. The partial truth. “I...don’t remember what happened,” she said.

 

Hyejin whipped up to meet her eyes. “You don’t remember...anything?”

 

Wheein, in fact, thinks remembers the tenderest emotions, but she also remembers drinking way more than she should and convincing herself of things that were not necessarily real. Things like the affection in this stranger’s eyes. Or the way Hyejin kissed her like she was her universe.

 

Wheein doesn’t trust herself to speak without opening her soul and revealing the deep vats of her loneliness, so she wraps herself in the partial lie that comes with the partial truth: “No. Nothing.”

 

“I see.”

 

Wheein begins to turn. This is the part where Hyejin leaves, she thinks. Perhaps if it were anybody else, she would leave. Instead, Hyejin reaches out for her hand and—unlike Wheein’s silent, guilty, cowardly wanting—takes it.

 

“Let me refresh your memory,” she says with a grin.

 

Wheein looks down at their intertwined fingers. There is a sense of déjà vu, but also—“You...don’t give up, do you?” She murmurs.

 

Hyejin shrugs sheepishly—her hand, Wheein notices then, is a little clammy. “I really like you, Wheein. That’s all. Can’t we get dinner? Together?”

 

And when a girl like Hyejin looks at you the way she looked at Wheein right then—eyes turned up, heartbreakingly eager—it isn’t easy saying no. So Wheein steps forward and, if only to avoid her eyes, lays her forehead on Hyejin’s shoulder.

 

“Okay.”

 

Hyejin smiles against her hair. “Okay,” she echoes. “Let’s go.”

 

It isn’t supposed to be a date—she told herself as much when she set off to the park—but, at the end of the night, Wheein can hardly remember the push and pull she had with her heart. Hyejin is so vibrant, so fun, and just so wonderful that she truly has a way of putting you at ease.

 

Dinner was simple—a local restaurant nearby whose owners knew Hyejin by name. They laughed, they drank, and it was just too, too easy being with Hyejin. And it really wasn’t until the very end of the night, when Wheein had, in a moment of slurred excitement, taken Hyejin’s hand and pulled her along as she ran down the dark, lamp-lit streets that déjà vu hit her once more.

 

That’s when she remembers that her own apartment isn’t this way—she was pulling Hyejin toward her apartment. Suddenly, she stopped. How did she know the way?

 

“Wheein?” Hyejin asked, sounding perfectly sober as she slowed to a stop behind her.

 

“Sorry, it’s just—” Wheein peers up and recognizes the cold fear in Hyejin’s eyes, as if she had just dug up a secret and laid it at her feet.

 

“You do remember,” Hyejin breathes. She clears . “But we—we don’t have to—”

 

Wheein looks up and around the empty streets, and recognizes a busted and faded sign missing so many of its letters: a “deal you can’t refuse” spelling the word “dare” in bold red colours.

 

“I kissed you here,” she said into the night air. “In front of this sign.”

 

Hyejin nodded. “We did everything backwards that day, didn’t we?” She said with an uneasy laugh.

 

But Wheein remembers: she remembers the butterflies, swimming around against current of liquor in her stomach, she remembers the sign—remembers wondering if this is what fate looks like—and most of all, she remembers Hyejin in her yellow dress, her heels in her hands as she falls against Wheein in laughter. She remembers the closeness of their faces, the strong grip on her upper arm, and the bristling electricity in her gaze, and how badly she wanted to capture her in that moment forever.

 

And maybe it didn’t matter that they were strangers then. Maybe Wheein, drunk on the feeling of Hyejin more than anything, thought feelings alone could propel them into happiness.

 

Maybe Wheein, drunk with want, had forgotten her own reality.

 

“Hyejin,” she says now, letting go of her hand. “What are we doing?”

 

“Having fun?” She replies hopefully, flexing her fingers at her side as if acclimatizing herself to the emptiness.

 

“We...don’t know anything about each other.”

 

Hyejin shifts her gaze to her shoes. “But I want to. Know more about you, that is.”

 

“Why?”

 

Hyejin lifts her head to meet her eyes with a smile. She runs a hand through her hair, and the simple action stirs all kinds of feelings in Wheein.

 

“Because I really like you.”

 

“I’ve done nothing to make you like me,” Wheein says slowly, ducking her eyes to work out her words without being so distracted by everything about Hyejin.

 

“You don’t have to. I can’t explain it any more than that,” Hyejin said softly, her shoulders dropping slightly. “I just...have a good feeling about us.”

 

“Hyejin, you’re...beautiful,” Wheein said, blushing in spite of the seriousness. “You could have anyone. Don’t...I mean—why waste time with me?”

 

At this, Hyejin quirked a brow. “Wheein-ah, have you seen yourself?”

 

Wheein’s cheeks burn brighter than she thought herself capable. “W-well I—I—I’m not the one who looks like a Greek statue!”

 

Much to Wheein’s surprise, Hyejin’s cheeks flare equally pink even in the dim of the evening. “W-what are you saying?” She mumbles, scuffing her shoes across the pavement. “T-that’s too much.”

 

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” Wheein confesses.

 

Hyejin reaches out for her, pauses above her hand, and tugs at her sleeve instead. “Do you still want to go back to my place? We’re close.”

 

“I’m sober,” Wheein replies. It’s neither affirmation or rejection, and Hyejin tilts her head, waiting for her to work out the rest of her sentence. But she doesn't quite comprehend her own answer, doesn’t quite want to see the implications, though the pit of fear roiled inside, pulling her back from the edge of the cliff.

 

Minutes pass, and it’s clear that Wheein isn’t going to elaborate.

 

And so Hyejin makes the decision for her when she tugs her hand and says, “Let’s go.”

 

Wheein doesn’t resist, even when her heart refuses to give in.

 

“Don’t think about it,” is all Hyejin says on the short walk back.

 

They’re silent still when they step into Hyejin’s dark apartment, where Hyejin kicks off her shoes immediately upon entering and crosses directly into the kitchen to retrieve two bottles of beer.

 

Wheein takes it with a small but grateful smile, and looks over at the walls while Hyejin takes a deep swig. A cork board caught her attention as soon as she entered—she hadn’t noticed it last time, drunk as she was on everything around her. She steps closer to examine the string of Polaroid photos tacked onto the board. There were so many that they overlapped each other and fought for her appreciation.

 

Wheein can’t help but notice the same girl showing up in many of these photos with Hyejin.

 

“That’s a gift,” Hyejin murmurs from behind. “Sujung used to spend hours on that board. She’s a sap.” The added snicker is tinged with the kind of affection that claws at Wheein’s heart.

 

“Is that the girl in these photos?”

 

“Yes. We used to live together.”

 

Wheein gasps. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

 

Hyejin quirks a brow and, in that way that she does, seems to know exactly what’s on Wheein’s mind. “We weren’t together,” she says, a small smile forming on her lips. “We’re just friends.”

 

Wheein glances over at Hyejin, then down at the bottle in her hands. “Oh,” is all she hears herself say before she finds the courage to work through her own feelings about this revelation. The skepticism skittered around her thoughts. Perhaps a part of her was ready to dive into the unknown, but the missing pieces in her memory—

 

“Hey,” Hyejin calls gently, touching her elbow, “let’s sit down. Are you still hungry? I can make something.”

 

The missing pieces pressed against all of her edges, as they had been for the last seven days. It shouldn’t be surprising, perhaps, when Hyejin’s innocuous question ends up awkwardly opening the floodgates.

 

“What happened that night?”

 

Hyejin, who had been gesturing to the couch several feet in front of her, drops her arms. “That night?”

 

“In here. Did we sleep together?” Her heart hammers wildly once the question slid out. The silence that followed is unbearable from the start.

 

Hyejin met her eyes with an inscrutable expression. “Which answer will convince you to give me a chance?”

 

“I just want to know the truth.”

 

Hyejin tilts back her head with a sigh, her hands running through her wild head of hair with visible frustration. And Wheein knows she’s difficult. Knows she isn’t worth the effort, but she has to know what made Hyejin stay, even if for a little while. Even if she’s on the verge of pushing her away.

 

“That night,” Hyejin begins slowly as she pulls Wheein over to the couch, “I told you a secret.”

 

It doesn’t answer her question, but Wheein stays silent, listening, claws at her own unrelenting memory. She takes a careful sip of her beer to occupy her hands, and lets Hyejin’s gaze burn into her profile.

 

“You...didn’t seem to care that day. You were just so...happy? Maybe that’s not the right word. Content? You, um, held me here on this couch and told me to tell you a secret,” Hyejin went on, waving her hand limply as she spoke. “And...now I don’t really know how you feel, so…”

 

“What was the secret?”

 

At this, Hyejin rubbed her hands on the top of her thighs, a nervous gesture that immediately draws Wheein’s eyes downward. She peels her gaze back up to meet Hyejin’s eyes and, thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice.

 

“Right. I guess I don’t have much to lose,” Hyejin murmured to herself. To Wheein, she seems to draw herself inward as she prepares for her confession. “The truth is,” she said with another sigh, “I...we met before.”

 

“What?”

 

Wheein prepared herself for many different scenarios, but this—she whips back to face Hyejin with her whole body, ignoring the drop of beer that lands on her shirt.

 

Hyejin wrings the hem of her sleeve. “I mean, we sort of met. You...don’t know me, but I...I’ve seen you around and I’ve liked you for...a while. So when I found out that you knew Byulyi unnie, I begged her to let me be your blind date. Of course, I hadn’t expected the whole anniversary thing, but I—”

 

“Wait, go back,” Wheein says. “You knew me? How? For how long?”

 

“Um, okay, I’ll start at the beginning. Just,” Hyejin stands up and begins pacing back and forth in front of the couch, where Wheein follows her with her eyes, “I need to move. And think.”

 

“I feel like I would’ve remembered you if we met.”

 

“You don’t know me,” Hyejin repeats, “we haven’t met. I’ll start at the beginning. It’s, um, the first time I ever saw you was on the stairs outside the public library. You were reading something, and I nearly tripped on you while I was rushing down the stairs to meet a friend. Sujung, actually. She saw the whole thing. I even apologized to you, but you didn’t seem to hear me.”

 

Wheein furrowed her brow. “This sounds a bit familiar, but this sort of thing has definitely happened a couple of times.”

 

“I, uh, thought you were cute, but I didn’t think much of it. A week later, I sat beside you in the library. I was worried about my course, so I didn’t recognize you right away, but you ended up falling asleep on your books beside me, and I...I don’t know. I started noticing you. It was...not hard because you spend so much time at the library.”

 

“Yes...I practically live there,” Wheein murmurs.

 

“Well, every time I saw you,” Hyejin says with a small, sheepish smile, “I was just so...happy. You became an anchor, you know? I wished many times that you would notice me and talk to me. I wanted to know everything about you and I don’t know why.”

 

Wheein leans forward and reaches up for the edge of Hyejin’s jacket, and she stops pacing. She stands in front of her instead and drops her eyes to her feet when Wheein asks, “Hyejin, why didn’t you ever talk to me?”

 

“I don’t know,” Hyejin replies, raising her eyes slightly to meet Wheein’s. “I...couldn’t find an excuse. You’re so...so beautiful and smart and everything. I’ve seen you with your friends in the library once in a while, and you were just so alive.”

 

“Aren’t you the one in medical school?” Wheein says with a small smirk that belies her own disbelief. “What are you doing at the library?”

 

Hyejin groans and claps a hand over her eyes. “I...was hoping you’d forgotten that fact,” she says carefully. “I’m...technically not in medical school. I lied. I’m sorry, I guess I just...really wanted to impress you. I’m...studying to get in at the moment. They rejected me last year so I’ve been...trying. For what that’s worth.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Wheein clears . Confronted with exactly how much Hyejin seems to like her, she doesn’t know what else to say. She rolls the bottle between her palms, wondering how on earth she didn’t notice a girl like Hyejin, and what the hell she did—besides sleep and drool all over her books—to deserve such undying attention. “So...how did you meet Byulyi unnie?”

 

“I needed a job, and she was looking for an apprentice. We hit it off and that’s that,” Hyejin says with a shrug. “It wasn’t long before I met Yongsun unnie. She’s pretty great.”

 

“And how did you find out about me?”

 

“It was kind of an accident,” Hyejin says with a lopsided, wistful smile. “Yongsun unnie was showing me a bunch of pictures she took of Byulyi unnie’s dogs as puppies when she accidentally swiped too far and I saw a picture of the two of you. It just seemed like one of those random selfies and you looked kind of annoyed.”

 

“That sounds like every selfie she’s ever made me take,” Wheein scoffs.

 

“I pretty much screamed. Unnie dropped her phone and screamed right back, and it was just a mess.” Hyejin shakes her head and exchanges a small smile with Wheein. “But it felt like fate, you know?”

 

“I can picture that,” Wheein returns.

 

“Yeah...so...that’s it. I told you about this that night—maybe not with so many details—and...yeah.”

 

“And?”

 

Hyejin takes a breath and resumes her seat beside Wheein, their knees a breath away from touching. “And nothing else.”

 

“Nothing?” But Wheein remembers waking up in her underwear, half- from the waist down, Hyejin beside her. She rummages her brain for a clearer image but comes up short. Maybe it didn't happen?

 

“You fell asleep, if that counts. I had to change you out of your clothes because you spilled beer all over yourself when you fell asleep,” Hyejin explains with a chuckle. “It was cute.”

 

“Right…”

 

“You wouldn’t let go of me either, so I carried you over to my carpet to be a bit more comfortably—I have a big shaggy carpet in my room, and we didn’t quite make it to the bed. You were like a koala.”

 

“Aish…”

 

“But that’s it,” Hyejin finishes with a small smile. She chews at her bottom lip, as if tugging out one last secret, and finally takes a deep breath. “That’s it,” she repeats, “unless you count all the times you tried to kiss me.” Wheein’s eyes widen. “Believe me, it was tempting—you even succeeded once, but you fell asleep before it could escalate too far. I guess...to answer your original question, a minute more and we definitely would’ve slept together.

 

Wheein covers her eyes with a cupped palm. “That’s embarrassing. I thought I was a lot better at holding my alcohol.”

 

“You drank a lot. You must’ve had a lot on your mind.”

 

She glances up at Hyejin then from beneath her lashes then, and, taking a moment to find her voice, whispered, “Or maybe I was just nervous.”

 

Hyejin inches a little closer, drawn in by the dark reflection in Wheein’s pupils. “Are you nervous right now?” She says, her voice low as she gently pries the green bottle out of Wheein’s fingers, replacing it with her own fingers.

 

Wheein’s gaze flickers down to Hyejin’s lips before she can stop herself, and her heart pounds in terror at the sight of the small, disastrously attractive smirk playing on Hyejin’s lips. “You,” she starts, suddenly forgetting how to breathe as Hyejin draws closer still, “are really something.”

 

“Do I make you nervous?” Hyejin asks, grin spreading. She rolls her thumb over the back of Wheein’s hand, neither pushing nor pulling, but steady, firmly anchoring her down.

 

And it is this moment, while Hyejin is watching her so expectantly, her eyes asking more than her lips can brave, that Wheein feels a tug in her heart, as if she isn’t just anchoring her down, but taking her into the swirling depths of the sea with her. And it is in this moment that Wheein realizes she doesn’t mind.

 

Her confession comes out in a breath: “Always.”

 

“Really?” Hyejin’s fingers dance over to her wrist, marking her with gentle, crescent shapes.

 

“You make me feel too much,” Wheein says with closed eyes. “How can this be possible?”

 

“Let’s go with it.” Hyejin grips her forearm and pulls her in, so close she can feel the puff of air in every heavy breath. “We can figure it out along the way. What do you say? Can I kiss you?”

 

She nods.

 

The anchor drops—Wheein can almost feel the rush of cool as she leaps into the salt water, and the silenced world of two. She drives headfirst into the unknown, where Hyejin seems to be waiting with outstretched arms as she takes her in and kisses her lips. Reality peels away, and the silent ocean fills her heart and lungs, but where she expected to drown, she doesn’t.

 

Her pillowy red lips, and delicate touches pull her in like a maelstrom, but Wheein relaxes under her touch. She kissed her back, pushes her down, and lets herself fall. Slowly, she takes her in, and it’s like breathing for the first time.

 

But, suddenly, Hyejin pushes back with her tongue. A hand slips down her back, and she is careful, but it’s enough to pluck Wheein out of the water and throw her into the flames of something else entirely. Wheein swallows the moan in when Hyejin’s hands finds the back pocket of her jeans.

 

Wheein, pulled taut by the intensity of this relationship, breaks the kiss, breathing heavily as she straddles Hyejin on her couch. Neither say a word for a long while, watching each other’s swollen lips and bursting chests like an impossible riddle.

 

“How can I want you so much?”

 

It’s Hyejin who speaks first, but it takes a moment for Wheein to realize she hasn’t vocalized her exact same thoughts. And she tilts her head and studies her. Her eyes trace the slight crease on her brow, doubled by her uncertainty, her nose, her lips, her jaw, down to her slender neck, her the swell of her s, and her perfect middle, so graciously displayed by her workout clothes. This time, Wheein lays a hand on her abs, her heart beating miles and miles per second as Hyejin watches her, almost shy toward admiration in Wheein’s eyes.

 

“You’re a masterpiece,” Wheein murmurs, her fingertips skirting the soft skin of Hyejin’s stomach.

 

Hyejin smiles and reaches up to brush Wheein’s cheek lightly with the back of her fingers. “If only you could see yourself the way I see you.”

 

Wheein’s returns her gaze to Hyejin’s face. “You’re no better than Byulyi unnie, are you?”

 

“Oh, I’m so much more.” Hyejin laughs and, in one strong movement, pushes herself up and into a standing position, forcing a yelp out of Wheein when she reaches out under her and holds her close. Wheein wraps her legs around her instinctively, but pulls away to meet her eyes when she realizes how secure she truly feels.

 

In almost every way.

 

“See? Superior.”

 

Wheein doesn’t say anything. She simply holds her gaze, trying not to drown when she sees all the affection transforming into worry inside Hyejin’s brown eyes.

 

“Wheein,” Hyejin whispers. “Are you okay?”

 

Wheein nods.

 

“What are you thinking about?”

 

Wheein relaxes her arms around Hyejin’s neck.

 

“You,” Wheein replies.

 

“Me? What about me?”

 

“How can I want you so much?” Wheein echoes with a small smile. Stunned by the sound of her own words leaving the confines of Wheein’s thoughts, Hyejin nearly drops her. But when Wheein presses her fingers against the side of her jaw and pulls her into a deep, deep kiss, she tightens her hold against her, as if they could both melt into one.

 

When they break away this time, there is something new, something fiery, in Wheein’s dark pupils, something Hyejin can find herself falling in love with very quickly. Especially when she leans into her ear and asks, “Will you show me your carpet again?”

 

It takes everything not to swallow the nerves welling up in .

 

“Y-yeah.”

 

---

 

Two weeks later, Wheein’s phone practically rattles off her bedside table at the sheer number of messages coming in. She groans, and limply swipes in the general direction of her phone. It’s too warm and comfortable to try any harder, and she snuggles her face back into her pillow in the moment’s reprieve between each message.

 

She’s almost asleep, when the voice beside her grumbles into her shoulder. “Can you please get that?”

 

Wheein turns her head slightly and opens her heavily-lidded eyes to see the top of Hyejin’s messy head. She kisses it and stretches her arm out to take one more swipe at her phone. She pushes it further, and curses. Great. Now she has to leave her warm nest.

 

Hyejin, smiling lazily against her skin, relaxes her arm around Wheein’s waist so she can stretch out to retrieve her phone.

 

Wheein grabs it and immediately retreats back into Hyejin’s arms. She squirrels her way under the blanket and lays her head beneath Hyejin’s chin before finally checking her phone, cringing at the bright white light for a moment.

 

“It’s Yongsun,” Wheein murmurs, rolling her eyes.

 

“What does she want?” Hyejin asks, tilting her head back for a big, gaping yawn.

 

Wheein scrolls. “Oh.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“We missed brunch.”

 

Hyejin rubs her eye. “What time is it?”

 

“Almost one.”

 

“Oops.” Unconcerned, Hyejin kisses the top of Wheein’s head and pulls her closer.

 

Wheein chuckles then as she reads through all 52 of Yongsun’s messages. “She thinks we died.”

 

“I am in heaven,” Hyejin says, smiling as she presses a kiss on Wheein’s nose.

 

Wheein wiggles her nose. “That tickles.”

 

Hyejin laughs. “Do you still want brunch?”

 

Wheein shakes her head and tosses her phone back onto the bedside table after a quick message to Yongsun. She reaches up and kisses Hyejin, running a hand through her dark hair as she pulls her closer. “I can wait till dinner,” she mumbles against her lips.

 

Hyejin laughs once more, her vibration sending a warm tingling through Wheein. “Let’s do afternoon tea,” she says, running her fingers up Wheein’s back. “We can make it up to the two middle-aged women later.”

 

Wheein frowns a little. “Two hours?”

 

“Not enough?” Hyejin asks, quirking a brow. “We’ve been at it all night.”

 

Wheein blushes, hiding her face in Hyejin’s neck. “I want to sleep,” she mumbles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Hyejin laughs. “Sure,” she says, “whatever you want, my love.”

 

And in her arms, Wheein—like so many times in the last two weeks—leaps into the ocean once more, headfirst and fearless in love.

 

---

Notes: I'm back with the Wheesa sequel!! You guys, I have such a hard time with present tense. I don't even know why I do this to myself, but it just seems like so many fic are in present tense. This story was also supposed to be like 4000 words, but my hand slipped.

Still, it's super exciting to name this chapter after queer icon Janelle Monae. If her and Tessa Thompson ain't Wheesa...

Hope I did her justice! 

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this two-parter. It's been really amazing seeing all the support even after my little hiatus. Now that I'm getting into the rhythm of things, I hope to see you all again soon!