Sooyoung’s still reeling from the events of the night.

Seulgi’s sudden fall from an unexpected and unwelcome appearance of a past lover has Sooyoung bruised and battered, even cut in places from attempting to make a catch that she hasn’t had to practice in a long time.

She couldn’t think of anywhere else to go, not when her face is plastered on every billboard across the nation, and especially not at eleven o’clock at night.

So, she’d settled for the abandoned lot behind their luxury apartment, not for the first time, and had kicked away a layer of snow and settled against cold brick and cement to watch the cloudy night sky and nurse her wounds in solitude.

A deafening scream pierces the air and Sooyoung’s habit of throwing her arms above her head in surprise like some uncivilized gorilla exposes itself, nearly cracking her skull against the wall that had been supporting her weight just seconds ago in the process.

“Sooyoung unnie?”

“Y-Yerim?”

Sooyoung feels heat lace through her cheeks in complete embarrassment, recognizing the small figure bundled up in layers of clothes despite having only seen her on one occasion.

Something clutched in a trembling hand that’s outstretched towards her catches her eye and Sooyoung squints in an attempt to make out the shape in the dim lighting.

“Is that . . . Is that pepper spray?” Sooyoung peers closer at what she realizes is a miniscule bottle clutched in Yerim’s hand, recoiling when she confirms her suspicions. “You were going to spray me?!”

“I thought you were attempting to mug me!”

Sooyoung attempts to collect herself, clearing and stowing her hands into the pockets of her coat, willing the all too telling blush in her cheeks to fade away and return to its usual alabaster.

“We forget this ever happened. Deal?”

“You have my word.”

The silence that comes afterwards is deafening, unsaid words hanging above them in tantalizing patterns like the stars, clearly unreachable, the way a person can’t simply raise a hand and pluck out a sparkling jewel from the canvas of the night sky.

A cold breeze sweeps over them and Sooyoung draws her coat closer, willing the warmth of her body to insulate itself, and she sees Yerim do the same, her winter jacket practically engulfing her into its fabric and material—it’s only a reminder of how small the girl really is, and Sooyoung thinks she could use a meal.

“Have you had dinner yet?”

Yerim narrows her eyes at her as if she’s some greasy teenage boy with ulterior motives, which would have been offensive if it isn’t for the fact that Sooyoung thinks it’s cute (she’s cute), and so she lets it slide.

Yerim seems to realize that her actions are embarrassing if anything because she nods her head and offers a small smile as an olive branch.

“Okay.”

Sooyoung smiles and leads them out of the lot, trekking through the snow to reach paved sidewalk and neon lights that welcome them back into civilization.

“Do you like street food?”

There’s a brief hesitance that Sooyoung manages to catch, although the response that comes afterwards doesn’t arouse much suspicion, a simple agreement that slips from her tongue which she decides to accept without too much thought.

“So, what are you doing out again at eleven o’clock at night? Didn’t I tell you anyone could just pick you up and carry you away? Especially in abandoned lots.”

“And did I not say that you are no better than I am? What were you doing in a place like that, anyhow?”

“I had a lot on my mind, give me a break.”

The ensuing lull in their mild bantering draws Sooyoung’s attention to the girl and she’s surprised to see Yerim staring back at her with something akin to concern written in her eyes, as if Sooyoung means something to her—which is preposterous, they barely know each other.

“What are you looking at me like that for? Reach my age, you’ll know what I mean,” she says.

It’s a weak attempt to brush away the unwavering gaze that flusters her for some reason unknown, and she looks down at the sidewalk instead, kicking at a loose piece of concrete that skitters away at a nudge of the toe of her boot.

“There you go again, speaking as if you are a hundred years old.”

Sooyoung only laughs.

It doesn’t take long to reach the food stand that Sooyoung frequents, the kind, elderly lady who runs it a face more familiar than her own family’s (that fact doesn’t bother her as much as it had used to, even though it’s still a sore area to prod).

“Granny, your favorite customer is here!” Sooyoung calls out.

She tugs Yerim in when she hesitates at the entrance, ignoring her muted grumbling with a cheeky grin as payment and flounces towards the elderly woman, feeling affection fill up the hole in her heart if only as a temporary respite.

“Young-ah, I wasn’t expecting you! Come here and give me a hug.”

Sooyoung lets Yerim free and rushes into the woman’s embrace, bending over double just to bury her nose into her shoulder and wrap her arms around the delicate frame made of twigs and cotton that Sooyoung adores.

“And who might this beautiful young lady over here be?”

She pulls away and turns around, seeing Yerim with her fingers interlocked in front of her, shoulders slightly hunched as if attempting to cave into herself, and she realizes that she’s uncomfortable.

“Oh, that’s Yerim. She’s a friend.”

“Hello, my name is Bae Yerim. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh a pretty name for a pretty girl! Don’t be silly with all the formalities dear. Call me Granny. It’s not everyday that this child brings a friend.”

Yerim throws her a teasing glance that sets Sooyoung’s cheeks aflame and she whines at the elderly woman in embarrassment who good naturedly waves her away with the promise of her favorite dishes and drink.

A minute later and Sooyoung finds herself at her favorite table with Yeri lounging in the plastic seat opposite her, looking every bit out of place in clearly expensive clothing and immaculate makeup, although she supposes she doesn’t look the part of an average patron either.

“So, is the reason I’m present right now because I’m your only friend?” she asks with a sly smile.

Sooyoung refuses to be cowed by a mere child (she’s faced off against a CEO of a million dollar company before, this should be nothing), crosses her arms and leans back in her chair, adopting the habit of her persona of Joy when faced with an adversary.

“We met once and we’re suddenly friends? Someone moves fast.”

Satisfactions calls her name at the sight of Yerim’s blushing cheeks and avoidant gaze, and grins smugly at the crack in the girl’s calm exterior.

“I have been meaning to ask, what kind of food is prepared here?”

Sooyoung manages to choke down the laughter that had been creeping up at the genuine curiosity in Yerim’s expression, brown eyes flickering back to her own, expectant on her answer, and Sooyoung tilts her head.

“I told you, didn’t I? Street food. Have you . . . Have you never had street food?”

Yerim purses her lips and looks down, the furrow of her brows giving her away more than words ever could, and Sooyoung wonders who this girl actually is, living in Seoul and never having tasted street food.

She decides that mercy would be at their best interest, no matter how much she enjoys the art of teasing.

“I can’t describe it if you’ve never had it. You’ll have to see for yourself,” she quips lightly.

As if on cue, Granny approaches them with two trays piled with food, weaving around plastic tables and chairs, a dance long memorized, and Sooyoung moves to help her, taking one easily in her hand despite the elderly lady’s murmured protests and reaching for the other, only to be beat at her own race.

Yerim’s turning away by the time Sooyoung looks at her, though she doesn’t miss the small smile that tilts the corners of her lips and the warmth that lights her eyes directed towards the old woman; she tries to ignore the sudden tightening in her chest and throws Granny a cheeky grin before twisting to place the tray on the table.

Before she can, a gentle hand on the crook of her elbow stops her and Sooyoung turns back questioningly to the woman who beckons her closer.

“I’m glad you’re happy, Young-ah. That’s all I could ever want from you, you know that, right?”

Sooyoung blinks in confusion, following Granny’s soft gaze towards Yerim who’s completely oblivious to the attention, patiently unloading the tray and tucking her hair behind her ear with a familiarly stoic expression that had slipped moments before.

“What are you talking about, Granny? Don’t be silly, she’s just a kid,” she says, stumbling through her words as if she were a child that had just learned to speak.

The elder woman only eyes her knowingly and pats her bottom, a clear sign that she should go to their table now, and she bites her lip and turns away in return. It’s probably in her best interest to let it go, anyway.

When she approaches their table, Yerim wordlessly helps her unload her tray, nimble fingers setting down plates and utensils in a way that makes such mundane actions seem elegant.

“Do you plan on taking the seat or should I invite someone else to accompany me?”

“Huh?”

It’s only then that Sooyoung realizes that she’s been standing for quite a while when Yerim’s already sitting down, the girl looking up at her with a flicker of amusement in her eyes, and she rushes to follow her example.

They settle into the meal, and Sooyoung snorts into her food when Yerim spits out a spicy rice cake with tears in her eyes, then tragically burns her tongue on hot water that she knows only serves to increase the pain thricefold.

Admittedly, it’s nice, eating with someone other than Seulgi for a change because despite having denied accusations of her lack of friendships, she doesn’t have any she’s close enough to dine with, and Yerim is plenty interesting company.

“So, are you planning to explain what you were doing loitering in an abandoned parking lot? Or should I assume that Star Agency’s Joy lives in a box in the streets?”

“I was dealing drugs,” Sooyoung deadpans.

Yerim doesn’t miss a beat. “Of course you were. I suppose that’s the reason why you didn’t bother to don a mask? So the buyers could casually snap pictures with you and caption them #dealingwithJoy, #Joyfulsnorting.”

Sooyoung quite literally chokes on a wayward piece of rice cake, her laughter raucous, effectively embarrassing Yerim who glares at her, ducking her head in a sorry attempt to hide from judging eyes.

She finally sobers after a good minute, wiping away stray tears and wheezing for the breath that she’d lost.

“No, but, really. Why were you standing out there alone? Do you not have managers?”

It’s the genuine concern painted in Yerim’s brown eyes that grounds her like an anchor, and Sooyoung thinks maybe, maybe it’s okay to let spill the emotions bubbling inside of her, if only just a bit.

“My . . . My friend. She’s an unnie, actually,” Sooyoung says, stumbling over syllables like a drunk man attempting to walk. She’s uncertain, but glancing up at Yerim’s quiet eyes, she grasps onto the little bit of courage she finds inside of her and trudges forward. “Well, she had a bad break up, back in high school. Really bad. The relationship shattered her. And just a few hours ago, she popped back up out of nowhere, and it turns out she’s going steady with a new colleague we have. She had a panic attack and, well, things are really complicated right now.”

There’s warmth draping over the back of her hand, soft and steady, and it’s times like these when Sooyoung remembers why she chooses women over men, why she’d rather have gentle touches and soft curves than sharp edges and solid muscle that other women swoon for.

Yerim is something else altogether and Sooyoung wonders why it is that her heart becomes too hot for her chest and the butterflies band together to make wreckage in her stomach when her head tells her that it’s not right, she’s too young, you’re being a creep.

For someone so stoic Yerim has eyes colored with emotion with the wisdom of someone who knows what to do with them and it’s almost frightening to meet her gaze because Sooyoung thinks it’s all too possible to fall into the depth of it.

She can’t believe Yerim’s only eighteen.

“Perhaps you should allow them to make conversation.”

Sooyoung looks up, brows drawing confusion like pencil on paper, but willing to listen all the same.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that from what I understand, conversation is the most important factor in human relationships. You cannot fix things between two people without words of some kind. From what you have told me, I believe that rather than avoidance, confrontation would be the most suitable course of action,” Yerim says, glancing towards her with mute hesitance at the final word that falls from her lips.

Sooyoung rushes to stand, her legs automated motors that has Yerim flinching in surprise, a cup of water nearly becoming victim to the action except that startled fingers manage to brush past without turning perpetrator.

“W-What’s wrong? Did I say something?”

“Yeah, yeah you did.” The expression that darkens Yerim’s face is almost comical if not for its genuinity and Sooyoung hurries to reassure her. “You made me realize something really important. But first, I’m walking you home.”

Yerim frowns. “I’m not a - .”

“ - kid. I know. But, you’re still a girl, and the streets at midnight are still dangerous. Let me walk you home? Please?”

Sooyoung doesn’t miss the tint of pink that tinges porcelain cheeks but smiles at the wordless nod and a murmur of gratitude.

She thinks it’s answer enough.

~

Seulgi wakes up to the smell of breakfast.

The first thought that runs through the tangles of her sleep induced mind is that she lives alone and no one should be preparing breakfast in her own home (even she rarely uses the kitchen and its highly technological appliances herself, leaning towards takeout most days) and so she bolts up from bed, nearly tripping herself in the process.

She also knows it isn’t Sooyoung because in all the years she’s known her, Seulgi’s never seen her touch so much as the handle of a spatula, avoiding kitchens like the plague, and despite how badly the night before had gone, not even that could convince Sooyoung to approach a stove.

She’s careful not to make a sound as she opens the door just a crack, morning light spilling through, and she blinks to clear the black dots that impair her vision momentarily before squinting through the opening.

Joohyun?

Seulgi shuts the door, pressing her back against the wood and staring into the darkness before she hightails it to the bathroom in a whirlwind of frantic limbs, barely managing to keep her balance before she slams her hands into the counter and looks up into the mirror with a grimace.

She looks like a mess, a crow’s nest for hair and swollen eyes, dark circles heavy and painfully evident; she quickly throws her hair into a messy bun and haphazardly throws water at her face, clearing her head and putting the world back into focus.

It takes a total of ten minutes to convince herself to step out of the bathroom, footsteps hesitant and fingers running tentatively through freshly brushed hair, before she drags up cowardly courage to finally exit the bedroom.

The sunlight doesn’t seem as blinding anymore and the smell of food elicits a reaction from her stomach, demanding to be taken care of even if she can’t take care of anything else, but she finds herself ignoring it anyway at the sight of Joohyun in her teddy bear apron she’d bought and never touched, hair pulled back into a low ponytail that has Seulgi breathless.

“Hello, sleepyhead. Care for some breakfast? And if you were concerned, Joy was the one to contact me,” Joohyun says lightly, setting down a plate of eggs.

Of course Sooyoung had called her. Seulgi’s never had a say in the red-headed woman’s decisions, although thinking back to them, she’s never had a reason to considering they’ve all ended on a positive note.

Joohyun slips out of the apron and hangs it over a chair, making her way around the dining table to stand in front of her with characteristically soft eyes that do nothing to conceal their intensity. She’s wearing a black turtleneck and spotless white jeans that make her feel underdressed because look at her.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m - I’m fine.”

Seulgi’s not sure what to do when the person that simultaneously makes her feel happiness and sadness, anger and peace, safety and danger, the one that holds at least a portion of her heart in her hands does nothing but offer her a semblance of her love.

She hasn’t known what to do from the very beginning, not when this woman doesn’t want her for her fame or her body but for who she is unlike the countless others that she’s mistakenly trusted with her heart only to be crushed and thrown to the side like something less than trash.

“Come on, then. I have something to show you after you have your breakfast. Of course, only if that is alright with you.”

Joohyun takes her hand, leading her to the dining table full of not take out but homemade food, still steaming and clearly painstakingly made just for her. She can’t remember the last time she’d seen homemade food on her table and here she is again, making her feel more than she’s ever felt before.

She tries not to cry.

~

Joohyun’s studio is a mirror image of the interior of her house and the design of her car, striped like a zebra’s coat, a floor to ceiling window looking out on the expanse of the city opposite the door, an easel propped in front of the glass.

The walls are lined with framed pieces of Joohyun’s heart, fragments of things important, snippets of the world through obsidian eyes, and Seulgi wants to examine every single one even if it takes her an eternity.

“Feel free to explore,” Joohyun says.

There’s a hint of vulnerability that spills from the cracks of a steady persona despite the invitation, so she simply threads fingers together as semblance for gratitude and tugs Joohyun along with her, the older woman trailing behind her obediently.

Her work is painfully beautiful, a perfect blend of colors and minute details, some only sketches complete in their incompleteness. One particular sketch catches her eye and she can feel the hesitance in the way Joohyun’s grip tightens in hers.

“ . . . Is that me?”

It’s unmistakable in every line and curve, every of a ballpoint pen wielded between the very fingers that she’s holding in her own now, but at the same time, she feels as if it can’t be; the woman in the portrait with sunlight at her fingertips and happiness at her whim.

She squeezes Joohyun’s hand as reassurance, feeling her tension fading if only an ounce, though she stands unwavering at Seulgi’s side, as she’d come to learn, never one to back down.

“Is that how I look to you?”

It’s Joohyun’s turn to offer reassurance, a gentle squeeze and brushing thumb proofs of her certainty.

“No. You are far more beautiful than I could ever capture with pen and paper. This is pale in comparison to what I see in you,” she says.

Joohyun’s eyes shine confidence, her stance regaining soldier-like posture and head held high that Seulgi can’t help but think makes her look larger than life and rightly so.

She finds herself lost for words, fragments of letters and pieces of phrases circling an empty mind, but none coherent enough to be relayed to another, and so she stays silent, tugging Joohyun just a bit closer and holding her just a bit tighter and finding comfort in a world that always seemed to fast for her, anchored by a woman in black-and-white.

~

A/N: There is not a whole lot of Seulrene in this chapter, but I promise, this is only temporary. It's been a long time, I know, but things were getting hectic and writing was becoming extremely taxing, but the chapter's here now so I hope I can be forgiven? As always, upvotes and particularly comments are much appreciated. I hope you enjoy! Until next time.