Seulgi isn’t accustomed to following strange men on cold streets. 

After all, it’s a good way to disappear, to vanish from people’s lives as if you’d never been there in the first place, nothing but a sad memory and an ache in a heart that would slowly ebb away until even that would be forgotten. 

She’d always thought she’d had more sense than that. Clearly, she’d been wrong. 

She walks beside him, head held high and back ramrod straight as she’d been taught, even as a scarf shrouds the lower half of her face, the shadows of the night completely the rest of her disguise.

Seo Kangjoon walks like a man invincible, as if anything in his path will either shift or crumble before him, a man who believes that the universe revolves around his every footstep, that the stars align at his single breath.

It’s a teenage boy’s arrogance. Seulgi’s seen it many times before.

They reach an old, run-down stand on a corner street, the sidewalk covered in nothing but dirty slush, an ocean of human waste and ugliness, but Seo Kangjoon steps into it with not so much as a single glance, his polished dress shoes submerging into filth, splashing onto once spotless tailored pants, a wound against what once was perfection.

She stops at the edge of it, the toes of her sneakers nearly dipping into the beginning of slush, and looks up at the strange man standing in the middle of it all. 

“This is where I was born.”

Seulgi blinks, uncomprehending. “Excuse me?”

“I wasn’t born into money. That’s what you thought, wasn’t it? Most people do. But I started from the bottom of this,” he brings his foot down like a hammer, heavy with meaning, “and made my way all the way up to that,” he points up at a building in the distance, a massive skyscraper reflecting a thousand city lights.

Seulgi frowns. “Why are you telling me this?”

“She threw away all the money, you know. She could have been one of the richest in South Korea, but she dumped it all on her little sister and ran away. From everything.”

There’s sadness in his eyes, the most genuine aspect of him that she’s seen yet, the sharp cruelness of them dulled like a knife that’s been used one too many times, and Seulgi thinks, maybe they have.

She ventures forward. “From you?”

He looks up at her, donning a wry smile. “From me. Granted, I should have known better. But I was blind then.”

“By her beauty?”

“No.” He steps forward until he’s just a foot away, until she can see the snow in his hair and the look in his eyes, an exact replica of the look that she sees in her every reflection since she’d first met Bae Joohyun. “By her everything.”

The realization dawns on her then, a wave of sudden understanding and undesired empathy washing over her, unrelenting and unforgiving. “You’re still in love with her.”

He turns away then, the slush rippling around his feet, ice crunching beneath shoes that don’t belong, and stops in front of a stand.

The cold seeps in through the thin canvas of her sneakers, but she pays it no mind, practically wading through ice half-melted, diving head first into the unknown with nothing but the clothes on her back.

It’s terrifying, but at the same time, somewhere in the middle of it all, is excitement, a growing kind of anticipation for the possibilities of a world unknown to her.

There’s an old man running the stand, dressed in nothing but a thin jacket riddled with holes of varying shapes and sizes to keep him warm, the tip of his nose bright crimson from the chill that blankets them like incessant fog.

“You can keep the change. Have a drink for yourself, please. Thank you.”

He returns to her, offering her the cup of coffee with the nonchalance of an old friend, and she hesitates momentarily, observing the way Seo Kangjoon waits patiently, steady and unwavering, then accepts the offer.

“You said that Joohyun could have been one of the richest in the country.”

Seo Kangjoon nods, his expression resembling the skies above a stormy sea, though his demeanor does nothing to set off any warning alarms, which Seulgi’s not sure whether she should be relieved or worried.

The cup is warm, doing more to thaw out the cold that had settled into her skin in mere minutes than the hours they had spent in her pockets, a fruitless endeavor to keep away the very real possibility of frostbite.

“The company in itself isn’t anything truly unique. It is a great company, but without Irene, it will never reach its full potential,” Seo Kangjoon says, his brows furrowed. “Everyone saw it the moment she walked into that meeting room. The kind of…magnetism that she has, it’s uncanny. All she had to do was step one foot into that room and everyone’s eyes were on her. I’d never seen anything like it. And she was only sixteen.” He turns to her, his eyes glinting with faraway wonder, further even than the stars. “A sixteen-year-old girl who managed to stop all conversation without a single word. I was eighteen then and no one so much as gave me a single glance until I started introducing myself. And some not even then.”

Seulgi frowns, nails picking at the coffee cup sleeve, too distracted to reach for the hem of her sweater. “Then why did she leave? If she was so fit for the position?”

She wants to know. She wants to know more about this woman that she has so hopelessly fallen in love with, this woman of mysteries shrouded behind a veil that Seulgi can’t seem to penetrate no matter how hard she tries.

Seo Kangjoon turns to her, and she sees the desire to spill secrets he shouldn’t be spilling glinting in his eyes, but then, the desire seems to fade away, a wry chuckle escaping his lips instead.

“You know what? You should hear this from Irene, not me,” he sighs, turning away as if embarrassed. “My intention was to tell you everything, it truly was. I wanted to…throw a wrench in your relationship. Childish, I know. But you’re not the person I thought you were. I apologize.”

Seulgi can’t help but pry. “What kind of person did you think I was?”

For the first time that night, Seo Kangjoon smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling and exuding the kind of warmth that she didn’t think was possible from him.

“Oh, you know, a snobbish, slightly lacking, presumptuous child in an adult’s body. Although I realize that I’m being stereotypical.”

Seulgi shakes her head. “No, you’re not wrong. You just described almost everyone in the industry.”

“But not you.”

The smile comes unbidden, sneaky in the way that it lightly touches her features, and she doesn’t miss the way that his grin widens in return, charmingly boyish in the bit of mischief that now glints in his eyes.

She had learned to fear men all of her life, and none had ever given her a reason to feel otherwise, but looking at Seo Kangjoon now, without the tension and the anger that had seemed to be his fuel, she thinks that maybe he can be her reason.

“I can see why Irene likes you. You have a beautiful smile, and very expressive eyes. They tell your story, even when your words don’t. It’s very…genuine.”

Seulgi doesn’t know what to say, and she ducks her head, taking a quick sip of the coffee that’s begun to go cold, and an involuntary shiver forces her to hunch her shoulders, like some kind of turtle ducking into its shell.

“Ah, I’m sorry, it’s quite cold. And late,” he says, glancing at his watch. “How ungentlemanly of me. Allow me to you home, it’s the least that I can do.”

“Oh, you don’t have to, my place isn’t far.”

“Please. I feel terrible for dragging you out in this weather. And for, well, attempting to throw a bomb at your relationship.”

His eyes are imploring and Seulgi can see the genuine desire to right his wrongs in the way his brows knit together across his forehead and his teeth worry his lower lip, and she can’t help but oblige.

“Only if you promise not to stalk me. I’ll have my manager throw you out.”

He smiles. “I wouldn’t dare.”

It’s halfway into the walk back that he begins to question her.

“So, how is it that an estranged, was-to-be CEO and a top model crossed paths?”

Seulgi almost chuckles at that, just barely managing to repress the sounds, although the smile is impossible to hide. “She…asked me out. In the fish aisle of a supermarket. She didn’t know who I was.”

Seo Kangjoon turns to her with an amused sort of disbelief in his eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. But, I liked it. The fact that she approached me not because she knew I was famous, but because…” she struggles with the words that clutter her thoughts.

“Because she was attracted to Kang Seulgi and not Korea’s top model, Seulgi?”

She realizes that the appreciation must have shown in her eyes because Seo Kangjoon smiles at her, almost fond, then winks, the initial arrogant first impression flashing across his face momentarily.

“As a successful CEO, you do tend to be a master of the spoken word,” he says, puffing out his chest comically, resembling a proud bird of some kind.

For the nth time that night, Seulgi finds herself laughing freely, without the weight of what had seemed like the whole world on her chest. Silence drifts over them, peaceful this time with none of the tension from just an hour before.

There’s a myriad of emotions that bind together and constrict in the space between her ribs, and she’s not sure which one to select, or if choosing is even a possibility.

For now, she’s content to simply feel.

~

Sooyoung knows what hiding looks like.

She sees it every day in the carefully painted features of models just like her, hears it in the angry barks of crew members who scramble to stitch everything together into one seamless piece, and feels it in the grasping fingers of the young girls who beg her for just one signature, one photograph, as if their lives depend on it.

They all hide something, and Sooyoung can see it—plain as day.

Seulgi has nothing left to hide from her, at least nothing of importance, and Yeri, well, she’s still an intriguing puzzle she has yet to solve.

Joohyun, however, is someone she doesn’t understand yet but is also someone she can’t allow to hide away from her, not when she can see Seulgi’s wounds finally mending, not when she can finally see the hope that had been lost for so long flare back to life.

So, it doesn’t take long for her fingers to find the older woman’s number.

“Sooyoung?”

Joohyun’s voice is soft but lacks the thick cloud of interrupted sleep. At least she doesn’t have to feel bad for waking her up, even if she probably should have sent a text instead.

“Joohyun unnie. You’re up late.”

“Is something wrong? Is Seulgi okay?”

The concern etched in her voice is undeniably genuine, and she can’t help the small smile that creeps onto her lips at the confirmation of the woman’s affections.

“She’s fine, probably asleep by now. Are you usually awake at two in the morning, Unnie?”

“…it depends.”

Sooyoung hums, tracing a fingertip over velvet sheets. She’d had them changed two days ago after catching the blatant look of disgust in Seulgi’s face. 

The woman had never been fond of any hue of green, and Sooyoung had decided that after everything she’d been through as of late, she could use something in her favor, even if it was nothing more than the color of a blanket.

“I have something I want to ask you. Do you think you can make some time for me later today?”

“Of course. I should be free anytime after four o’clock. Is that alright for you?”

The reply is so swift that for a brief moment, Sooyoung thinks it’s automated. “Oh, that, uhm, should be fine. My schedule should be done by six-thirty at the latest.”

“Seven, then,” Joohyun says.

“Seven.”

There’s only a brief respite before Joohyun begins again. 

“This is about Seulgi, isn’t it?”

Her voice is decisive, and it’s more of a statement than a question, but Sooyoung’s not surprised.

“Well, about isn’t the right word. For, maybe.” She plows on before the older woman can interrupt with more questions that she doesn’t want to fill out the answers to yet. “Anyway, it sounds like you have a busy day ahead of you. I’ll let you sleep.”

Joohyun’s voice betrays nothing. “Right. Yes of course. Goodnight, then, Sooyoung.”

“Yeah, night Unnie.”

She drops the phone unceremoniously onto the bed, watching as the screen shines brightly to signal a call still connected, and Sooyoung counts the seconds it takes before the call ends and another round of seconds until the screen fades to black.

Twenty-three.

It’s only then that she turns over to look up at her star-speckled ceiling, the artificial lights blinking in and out of existence, the deep blues and purples swirling to create galaxies.

The view is cathartic, which had been one of the reasons why she’d invested thousands of dollars into the project, countless hours and headaches from scrutinizing even the smallest of details—the placement of a single star, the exact shade of Mars’ dust storm at twilight.

It also reminds her of a father who’d cared, one who’d taught her how to distinguish one cluster of stars from another, how to find Orion’s belt and the Big Dipper, the way he’d held her hand in his to point out the patterns in the night sky.

Then, a series of images—striking blue hair, a piano, a plane ticket. As fast as it had appeared, it fades away into shimmering darkness.

She hates the way that her thoughts run after people long gone. 

She hates the fact that she still cares.

~

Yeri knows more about Joohyun than she knows about herself.

So, when the woman shows up in the parking lot of her high school, drawing stares and whispers of obvious admiration, the first thought that pings in her head is trouble. 

It’s not the action of appearing unwarranted in itself, but in the way that she shifts from one foot to the other, the way that she breathes out a heavy cloud of fog into the wintry air, the way that her eyes dart from one place to another as if lost, unable to find its way back home.

Judging from the way that the other students whom she isn’t so much as acquainted with are looking at Joohyun, she knows that the rumors won’t subside for a long while, and though she’s used to it, it never ceases to be a nuisance. 

“Unnie. What are you doing here?”

Joohyun straightens from her position against the car, a small smile playing along the corners of her lips, though her eyes say differently.

“Hey, Yerim. Did you miss me?”

“Always,” she replies automatically. “But I’m more curious about why you’re in front of my school.”

She doesn’t receive an answer to her question, only Joohyun silently rounding the car to open the door to the passenger’s seat, tilting her head with a raise of her brow.

Yeri resists the urge to roll her eyes to the heavens and complies instead, albeit with a warning glance at the older woman.

Joohyun has always had a knack for mystery, and unfortunately it doesn’t fail her now.

The drive is familiar and it doesn’t take her long to realize where they’re heading, so she decides to simply lean back into the seat and watch as the roads shift from modern to rural, glass and concrete making way for plants and trees instead.

She’s never been one to talk much and Joohyun has always had a lock where should have been, even more so since the accident, so silence isn’t foreign.

For the first time in a long time, nostalgia washes over her, gentle and soothing and sad, but she doesn’t attempt to stop it, not when it’s been so long since she’s felt so serene.

Her eyes wander towards Joohyun, her strong profile, the way that one hand seems to barely touch the steering wheel, the other resting on the center console, tapping a quiet beat that Yeri had quickly become accustomed to as a kid.

It had been so easy back then, though she hadn’t known at the moment, and now nothing is the same—except for the unconditional love for the older sister she’d never thought she’d have.

The river is the same as the first time they’d been there, when Joohyun had received her license and they’d become hopelessly lost in their father’s car, only to stumble onto a strange grove of trees and the river that it hid within.

It’s also the same as the last time they’d been there, a day before the accident, the last time that Yeri had seen color in Joohyun’s clothes. She’d been wearing red that day.

“Seo Kangjoon came to see me.”

Yeri turns on her heel, shock pulsing through her veins like some kind of liquid drug.

“Seo Kangjoon? Your ex Seo Kangjoon? What did he want? What did he say? Did he threaten you?”

Joohyun flicks a pebble into the water, her expression stoic and infuriatingly unreadable.

“No, he didn’t. It was nothing about us, actually.”

“Then what was it about?”

“You.”

Joohyun turns to look at her then, and for the first time in years, her eyes are devoid of walls, and it’s as if Yeri can see through them, clear as water—it’s overwhelming.

“Me? Why would he talk about me?”

“Why don’t you hate me, Yerim?”

The confusion only builds, and Yeri’s left reeling in her spot, the rushing water and glittering lights doing nothing to help her.

“What? Where is this coming from? Did he tell you something?”

“I abandoned you, I left you alone to bear all the responsibilities that should have been mine when you weren’t so much as prepared for it, I took away the life you should be living, but you’ve never once raised your voice at me.”

The air in her lungs spills out all too quickly, as if oxygen has momentarily ceased to exist, but it’s sudden emotions that fill her up instead, dark and angry, repressed for far too long.

“I failed you as an older sister, but you never held it against me.”

“Stop.”

Her voice escapes in a harsh whisper, grating even to her own ears, but she can tell that her efforts will be fruitless, if only by the way that Joohyun’s eyes spark with the same, sturdy determination and unyielding confidence that had once swayed the entirety of the business world by its roots.

It’s the same confidence she’s desperately been attempting to recreate for so long.

Despite that, she doesn’t want to hear it, these words that trigger ugly, ugly thoughts—painful thoughts—ones that tear away the walls around her heart and shatters her box of locked away memories like nothing more than flimsy cobwebs.

“You’re angry. You might not believe that you are, but somewhere, deep inside, you’re angry. Anger doesn’t go away, Yerim. It builds and festers and it eats at you from the inside. Don’t become like me. Don’t make the same mistakes that I did.”

“Mistakes. You mean the same mistakes that you made after Dad died?”

Her words shoot from her tongue in dangerous shards, aimed to hurt and maim, to watch the way that they make the woman bleed.

Blood isn’t what she sees—it’s the deep regret that swims like black tar in Joohyun’s eyes, and it only makes it far, far worse.

It’s then that the emotions subside and it’s with years of practice that she puts them away, piece by piece, until they’re stowed away again, buried beneath plywood and metal and hammered in with nails to make certain they’ll keep shut this time.

Yeri turns away. “Take me home.”

“Yerim—”

“—after all this time, you don’t have the right to tell me what to do. But you’re right. I’m angry.” She walks back down the road. “But, Unnie, anger never fixed anything then, and it won’t fix anything now. And honestly? It’s far too late for apologies.”

The darkness swallows her up then, cold but inviting, and the stars shine dim, as if to mourn the absence of the moon.

She pretends she doesn’t care.

Stars have never suited her anyway.

~~

A/N: So I realize that it's been a year since I last updated this story and I really do apologize for that. Throughout attempting to get used to college and a new environment and whatnot I found myself having less time to write and, well, life happens. Thank you for reading this even though it's been so long since I gave any news about it and also, thank you for the feature! I never thought this story would get as much attention as it did. I hope you'll continue to stick with this story and it's characters. Until next time!