i.

“Are you sure about this?”

Joy lifts her head, tearing her eyes away from the papers she’s gathering in her arms to stare at her friend with a straight face.

Seulgi’s own dart all over their kitchen, refusing to meet Joy’s. (And, really though, she shouldn’t be able to make her squirm because she’s the older one here—but boy, is Joy so good at that.)

It’s a good long second of Seulgi avoiding Joy’s narrowed eyes before the silence gets uncomfortable, so she finally asks, “What?”

“I should be the one asking you that, don’t you think?” answers Joy; the corner of her lips slowly tugs into a teasing smirk. “I’m not the one looking for the girl of their dreams.”

Seulgi pretends that there is no hotness spreading all over her cheeks at the notion. She lifts a hand, shushing her friend, though it’s more to save face than anything. “Okay, first of all, you have to stop talking like that. It’s making me want to throw up.”

Joy just rolls her eyes in response.

“And second,” Seulgi presses on, “this was your idea. Not mine. So, again, I’m asking, are you sure about this?”

“Unnie,” Joy sighs at her, as if she’s a petulant child and not an actual adult.

“What?” Seulgi feigns nonchalance with a shrug. “I just need to know.”

“Fine,” Joy huffs, grumbling her admission. “I’m not sure about it. But what do we have to lose?”

“Uh, my reputation perhaps? People might think I’ve gone crazy. I am aiming to be a pediatrician someday, you know.”

Joy doesn’t miss the way Seulgi stiffens at the mere thought, as if eight years of pre-med and med school combined, and her parents’ constant assurances that things are gonna be fine aren’t enough to soothe her deep-seated fear.

She smiles at Seulgi, “That’s a stretch,” surprises her with a tight hug. “But hey, I came prepared, okay?”

Seulgi’s the one who narrows her eyes this time as she pulls back. “I’m honestly afraid to ask.”

God, she hopes it’s not something outrageous, or they all might end up being locked up somewhere.

“Wow, vote of confidence much?” Joy huffs.

“Alright. What is it?”

“Look, if anyone bothers to ask,” she starts, and then holds a finger up to stress her point. “Which I’m pretty sure no one will because no one cares about the details. Just tell them that it’s for my film project. We’re making a mockumentary for, hmm,” she hums, pausing to think, “the film festival. We have an upcoming one anyway.”

Seulgi’s skepticism slowly eases into a pleased surprise. She’s always known that Joy’s got quite an imagination and that she’d make a good, crafty director one of these days, but it never fails to catch her off guard. “Okay, that sounds… believable.”

Joy lets a shrug roll off her shoulders. “The film festival is real, but the project thing isn’t. They don’t trust rookies to make a good short.”

“Yeah, well, they haven’t met you yet,” Seulgi feigns a begrudging admission that Joy catches onto right away.

The younger woman crinkles her nose as she grins. “Still think it’s a bad idea?”

Seulgi in a deep breath, filling her lungs. She thinks back to that day where everything started, her mind fleeting through each and every moment she has managed to ingrain in her head; the images getting more vivid as each second passes.

She met a girl—a woman­—that day, and she hasn’t stopped thinking about her since. A woman that’s consuming her thoughts and her dreams; a woman that makes her heart beat in twos, in tune with her name.

And it all started with a spilled cup of coffee.

...

 

three weeks ago

Kang Seulgi is having a bad day.

Residency has been kicking her the whole week, what with the attendings required for consults scheduling their surgeries right when she needed them most. Seulgi has to run around the entire hospital looking for free ones, zipping through floors and hallways in a blur.

But if she’s anything, it’s professional, and she’s brilliantly good at being a doctor. She mans the ER better than any chief resident ever did, granted she had to skip a few lunches and a lot of her holy bread.

By the end of her last shift, she’s stamping patient records DISCHARGED. But somewhere around five thirty in the afternoon—right on the dot—the door of the residents’ station slides open, a mop of black hair popping out of the ample space in between.

Seulgi knows who it is exactly, and she doesn’t bother to stifle the groan that escapes . (She has good manners on a good day, but today just isn’t.)

Then, without looking up from the patient chart she’s poring over, she says, “What is it?”

It’s the squeak of metal against the door frame that answers her, and the distinct click of it closing. Heavy footsteps follow, the sound of leather Italian shoes hitting the tiled floor.

There’s a clearing of throat that Seulgi rolls her eyes at before she lifts her head and plasters on a fake smile.

“Hi… Jackson.”

Jackson grins by way of greeting, nods at her once. “Seulgi.”

“What’s up?” She asks, though she knows what he’s there for. He does it every Friday of every week, asking her out regardless of the number of times she’s told him no.

“Oh nothing.” Jackson shrugs casually. “I was on my way to my uncle’s office and I passed by your floor, so I decided to, you know, drop by.”

Seulgi tilts her head, pretending to study him while trying not to cringe at his wide grin. (But really, she just wants to see him squirm.)

He’s wearing a brown suit today. The color somehow makes her think of the stuffed monkey her four year old patient down in Peds owns—which reminds her, she’s due to one last post-op rounds in the department.

Jackson’s grin drops at Seulgi’s silent indifference. He nervously loosens his tie and clears his throat again. “Anyway, I was wondering—“

“No,” Seulgi quickly cuts off. She honestly doesn’t have the time to deal with his incessant invitations. All she wants is to go home and drown herself in some good music and a multitude of acrylic paints.

Joy’s going to be at Rosé’s place for the weekend, and Wendy has texted earlier that she’d be spending the night in her office’s lab to put on the final touches of her rocket engine design. It’s been so long since she’s had some time for herself and she’s planning to enjoy every minute of it.

“I’m sorry but, whatever you’re going to ask, it’s going to be a no.”

“Oh.” Jackson breathes out. “Well, maybe next week—“

“Aniyo,” she answers pointedly. At the offended look on the man’s face, she decides to add, “Mianhae. I know you’re probably a great guy and all, but, I’m just not interested.”

Jackson presses his lips together, then, “I see.”

“But thanks for the invitation anyway.” Seulgi offers him a smile, to at least take away the sting of rejection, though she knows it looks insincere, because frankly, she doesn’t really care. “Dating’s just the last thing on my mind right now.”

“I guess I’ll get going then,” he says, reaching for the door. “See you around.”

“Yeah.” She waves politely, but in the end mumbles, “I really hope not.”

He catches it, of course. His face pulls even more taut, but Seulgi has to hand it to him, he walks out of the room with as much grace as he can muster.

.

 

Her cellphone chimes at five past six. When she checks, it’s Joy, letting her know that she’s heading to Rosé’s early because they still have a few episodes of Criminal Minds to catch up to.

She texts her back: Have fun, and don’t forget to lock the door on your way out!

She laughs at Joy’s when have i ever, and then pockets her phone. She stacks the patient charts she’s about to hand off to Wheein in one pile; rushes to pick her coat from where it rests as quickly as she can after, determined not to spend one more minute inside Ansan Presbyterian.

Seulgi quietly slides the door open and sticks her head out, looking for any signs of Jackson. Thankfully, the hall is empty, save for the nurses by the nurses’ station whose heads are all bowed down as they pore over their own charts.

Seulgi exits her floor in five giant strides, and hits the elevator button frantically. Really though, she could do without bumping into Jackson ever again.

When she finally makes it out of the building and the cool breeze hits her, Seulgi swears it’s the best feeling she’s ever had that week.

.

 

She does bump into someone.

She’s walking down the spot she’s parked her yellow sedan at without a single care in the world, enjoying the cup of her favorite coffee clasped in her hand. And the next thing she knows, she’s hitting something firm yet soft, and there’s a heavy hint of lavender shampoo and soft perfume assaulting her nose.

Seulgi whips her head to look, ready to apologize profusely at whoever she collided into. But then she feels something wet seeping from her coat and onto her shirt, and heol, dear sweet Jesus it’s scalding hot.

It burns, and she quickly drops the half empty coffee cup to her coat and fan that wet spot on her shirt in any way she can.

From somewhere in front of her, Seulgi hears the person say, “I am so, so, sorry.”

The voice startlingly tugs on something inside her, sending an inexplicable kind of warmth that has absolutely nothing to do with coffee. It shoots from her fingers down to her toes, settling her racing heart completely.

Seulgi’s hands stop moving—or flailing, really—and her head snaps up.

She’s met with an apologetic look reflecting through anxious brown eyes, and lips pressed together in a thin line. The woman is holding her hands out, but Seulgi can see the restraint she’s putting on herself, trying not to reach out to her completely.

She must be terribly nice, Seulgi thinks, judging by the concern she feels radiating off of the other woman.

“I’m so sorry,” the woman repeats. Seulgi can see her hands reaching out again, but she pulls it back quickly, as if realizing that she’s about to get into Seulgi’s personal space. “Are you alright? Please tell me you’re fine.”

“N-ne. Yeah, you’re fine,” Seulgi stumbles, her eyes widening when she realizes what’s just come out of . “I mean—I mean I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

She already knows that she’s normally a klutz and she doesn’t really have remarkable people skills, but there is something about the woman that makes Seulgi fumble this much.

“Can I buy you another cup of coffee?” The woman asks, in an accent that Seulgi can’t quite place. “To make up for the one I spilled?”

“Oh,” Seulgi swallows visibly. She tries to smile, hoping it doesn’t come out as a grimace, “Oh it’s okay. You don’t need to do that. That’s like, my sixteenth cup of coffee today. It’s probably the universe trying to tell me that I should stop.”

“Something else then,” the woman says. She gets a look in her eyes as Seulgi is rambling that Seulgi can’t quite place; perhaps fondness, though Seulgi knows it’s impossible because they’ve never even met. “Maybe dinner?”

“No, really.” Seulgi waves a polite hand in gesture, “There’s no need.”

(But yeah, dinner and some ice cream sound so good right now, especially since she skipped lunch.)

“Please? I insist.”

Seulgi’s starting to say, you don’t really have to, but her stomach grumbles loud at the same moment and she freezes, her face quickly turning red while silently wishing to die right on the spot.

“Hmm,” the woman hums; and there’s a ghost of a smirk at the edge of . “Your stomach says otherwise.”

“Oh my God,” Seulgi sputters, covering her face with a hand. This is seriously the most embarrassing moment of her entire life. “I—I don’t know what to say?”

“A yes would suffice.”

Three things happen then: the woman flashes a smile; Seulgi feels completely disarmed as her heart skip beats. And the yes that comes out of her lips feels like she’s cementing the fact that she’s doomed because, God, this woman is the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen.

“Thank you,” says the woman, smile still in place.

Yes, Seulgi really is doomed.

.

 

Dinner isn’t as awkward as Seulgi has feared it to be. But then she guesses it’s all thanks to the woman sitting in front of her that, for some reason, makes her feel like they’ve known each other from the start.

“I’ve never been here,” the woman says as she observes with keen interest, her graceful fingers flipping through the menu. Then, she shifts her gaze towards Seulgi. “If I were to ask, what would you get?”

Seulgi lifts her head up upon hearing the question, but it takes a few seconds to register that she’s supposed to answer, completely dazzled by the woman’s soft smile. And when she finally does, what comes out is an embarrassing squeak.

The woman tilts her head. “Mianhaeyo. But I didn’t catch that.”

Seulgi swallows visibly and tries real hard not to stutter, but ultimately, she fails. “Samgyeopsal. They have really good Samgyeopsal, and uhm,” she clears , “their Japanese steak is really great.”

“I do love steak. Maybe I’ll give that a try.” She closes the menu, then sends Seulgi a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“I—it’s nothing.” Seulgi raises a jumpy hand in gesture, waving it off. But in her nervousness, she misjudges her reach and accidentally knocks the (thankfully)­ empty wine glass next to her plate. “Omo.”

She scrambles to pick it up, surreptitiously praying that the woman didn’t see, but she knows that that’s just not the case because her luck will never let her get away with anything.

“Sorry,” Seulgi mumbles as she dips her head, pretending to study the menu resting on her arm. For being clumsy or for the word, she doesn’t really know. “I, yeah…”

Now would totally be a good time for the ground to open and swallow her whole. Seriously.

She hears a soft what for, followed by a chuckle that sends Seulgi reeling.

Reeling, like, the butterflies-in-her-stomach-heart-hammering-in-her-chest-and-a-dizzying-feeling kind.

Seulgi swallows to tamp down the feeling as she risks a glance at her.

The woman doesn’t look put off or anything. She’s actually smirking, and her eyes are glittering with amusement.

In turn, it makes Seulgi blow out long exhales through her nose until she feels that unknown feeling in her stomach settle down and her heart go back to its regular rhythm.

Five heartbeats later—Seulgi knows this because she’s counted in her head—the woman asks, “Are we ready to place our orders?”

“Yeah, I guess,” she sighs. At the woman’s nod, Seulgi frees a hand—extra careful this time—to flag down a waiter.

She waits for her companion to finish listing her orders. She places hers next, getting the steak too because she really wasn’t kidding about it being good.

“So, uhm,” Seulgi starts after the waiter leaves, “I don’t think we’ve really formally met?”

“Oh,” the woman nods, realizing it too. “Yes, you’re right.”

Seulgi bites her lower lip as she scrounges up the courage, all the while discreetly wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans.

This isn’t a date, she reminds herself. No need to be nervous. She’s just another woman you met.

With a subtle nod to herself, Seulgi extends her hand out. “I’m Seulgi. Kang Seulgi.”

“Irene,” the woman says, meeting Seulgi’s halfway through. “Bae Irene.”

It’s Irene’s soft, gentle hand that Seulgi feels at the first touch, which turns into a sure hold as their hands slide together and lock.

“It’s nice to meet you,” says Seulgi as her shaky smile slowly grows into a confident grin. “Irene.”

Irene tilts her head and says, “I think I’d say the pleasure is all mine.”

Seulgi swears she feels Irene’s hand squeeze hers, but Irene’s palm is so warm against her own that it’s distracting her from any other thought that isn’t about the eyes of the woman sitting in front of her now.

She doesn’t really know how much time has passed, or what it is exactly that she hears buzzing from somewhere beside her.

Because Irene’s eyes are so warm, Seulgi thinks, so, so, warm, and so, so, piercing, and it’s pulling her in.

Yet, it’s Irene’s voice that snaps her back into attention. Irene’s voice calling her name.

“Seulgi?”

The rest of her surroundings rushes back in: she’s been holding Irene’s hand long enough for it to be awkward, and that buzzing she’s hearing from somewhere in the background is the waiter asking if she’d like some water.

She drops Irene’s hand as if it burns, and turns to the waiter to give him a stiff nod. “I—yes, please. Thank you.”

Seulgi takes her time. She takes her time, alternating between in air and letting out jagged breaths, before facing Irene again. At least until she finds her voice to say, “I’d tell you it’s not but we’d probably just end up arguing the whole night.”

Because Irene’s smile still has her reeling, and she has not recovered.

“That, I have to agree with,” Irene concurs.

And there’s that look again that Seulgi still hasn’t placed. All she knows is that it makes her feel warm all over, from her head down to her toes, like a good cup of coffee on a rainy Sunday morning.

Seulgi smiles in return. They settle into a comfortable silence until their food arrives, but they don’t really mind.

.

 

“I have to say, Seulgi. This steak is indeed good,” Irene says after the first bite.

Seulgi flashes a smile in answer. (Lips closed of course, because, God forbid, she’s got meat stuck in between her teeth.)

“And you seem to have chosen the perfect wine to go along with it,” Irene adds, sounding fairly impressed.

It shouldn’t make feel her elated, Seulgi knows, that she’s done something right, since most of her dates she messes up royally without effort.

But she reminds herself, too, for the umpteenth time, that it isn’t a date; and that shouldn’t make her feel disappointed either.

“You sound like you know a lot about fine wines,” Seulgi finally speaks, masking the feeling with keen interest.

“I don’t, really. But I do know how to appreciate a bottle or two.”

Seulgi nods, taking mental notes before she can even stop herself. “Anything else interesting you won’t mind telling me about?”

Irene purses her lips, thinking, then, “Well, I don’t really like chicken.”

And for some really weird reason, that makes Seulgi laugh.

.

 

She finds out that Irene’s just visiting her sister who lives in town during their walk through Ansan Park.

It’s Seulgi who extends the invitation this time, under the guise of showing Irene around when she hears that Irene has been to the town thrice, and yet, she never ever set foot on the famed park.

But really, it’s just Seulgi not wanting the night to ever end.

She leads Irene into one of the benches in the middle of the park; a perfect spot actually, Seulgi soon realizes as she gazes at the hanging string lights that glitter like the stars they’re under.

Seulgi pats the empty space next to her, her smile growing wide as Irene settles a little closer.

She props her hand on the bench, fingers drumming against the curved edge. “So, are you liking our humble town so far?”

“I love it,” Irene answers earnestly. “There’s a certain kind of freedom here, where you can just… be. And people won’t bother you.”

“Yeah,” Seulgi agrees with a small smile. “Everyone here’s too polite to meddle with other people’s businesses.”

“I find that to be a good thing, to be honest.”

“Not getting much privacy where you’re from?” Seulgi lightly quips.

Irene’s answering smile is timid; the kind that tells Seulgi that there’s a story behind it, behind Irene. “I’m afraid not.”

“Oh,” Seulgi dips her head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Seulgi. You don’t have to be.” Irene raises a hand, her fingers tucking the lock of hair tousled by the wind back into place. “Ansan really just came as a pleasant surprise. This time, at least.”

Seulgi opens to agree, but the words get stuck in as she watches Irene lean forward, feeling Irene’s hand settle dangerously close to hers, their skins almost touching.

She feels goosebumps break out, and she can only pray that Irene doesn’t feel the way her skin raises. God, she can’t have Irene thinking that she’s a creep.

“Uh yeah,” Seulgi pushes herself to speak. She won’t let her awkward fumbling ruin anything. “Ne, I totally get that.”

“I almost don’t want to leave,” Irene whispers.

Seulgi watches her stare at the darkening horizon. She hears the sigh that escapes the other woman, sees the way her chest rises and falls wistfully.

She wants to say you don’t have to go, wants to ask if she could stay instead and maybe meet her friends. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t, because what right does she have to ask something as huge as that from a woman she just met?

So instead she says, “You can always come back, you know,” and tries really hard not to let her disappointment show when Irene tells her that she wishes it would be that easy.

But Irene can feel it coming from a mile away.

“I have it on good faith that we’ll meet again,” she tells Seulgi. “Maybe not here, but we still will. Perhaps you’ll spill coffee on me then.”

“I sure hope not.” Seulgi shakes her head, laughing. “But with my luck, it’s probably going to go that way.”

Irene’s lips tug into a knowing smirk, but it drops as quick as the beep that echoes in the air.

Seulgi watches her fish her phone from her coat’s pocket, and doesn’t miss the frown etching deep on Irene’s forehead. “Hey, everything okay?”

“Ne,” Irene breathes out. She rushes to stand, swaying a little on her spot, but she is able to hold herself steady. “Though, I just remembered I have to go meet someone tonight.”

Hearing those words, Seulgi feels her heart plummet right away.

She doesn’t ask who it is exactly; it isn’t really her place. Though, she can’t help but wonder if it’s someone Irene will spend the night—this night—with.

An entirely different kind of ache squeezes her heart at the mere thought, so strong and so sudden that she almost wants to gasp for air.

But Irene has finally managed to tear her eyes away from her phone’s screen before Seulgi gets the chance to even do anything; and she’s now looking at Seulgi with sad eyes and a wistful smile.

“Well, I guess we better get going then,” Seulgi manages to say amidst the nameless feeling that’s still constricting her heart.

Yet, it must have been written all over her face despite trying real hard to not let any emotion show, because Irene’s quickly clearing up, “It’s just a friend, in case you’re wondering.”

The ache in her chest ebbs away just as quickly as it has appeared. It’s replaced with a tinge of embarrassment as forms an o. And then she puffs her cheeks, expels air as she mumbles, “I—I see.”

“I had a great night, please know that,” Irene says, and it’s almost pleading. “The best night I’ve ever had in over a year.”

Her body makes a noticeable twitch, as if wanting to take a step closer to Seulgi, but she rolls her shoulders and stays firmly in place. She steels herself, her jaw clenching before she says, “But I have to get going.”

“I—“ Seulgi tries to say, the words lost in between her jumbled thoughts. She knew that in the end, Irene would have to leave, that the night wouldn’t last. But she can’t help but feel like asking for just one more minute with Irene, one more minute to get lost in her sad eyes and to find out the cause, one more minute to make her smile and relish in it.

But Seulgi doesn’t say anything. Because she doesn’t really know how to ask.

When it dawns on her that Seulgi’s no longer going to speak, Irene whispers, “Good night, Seulgi.” She throws Seulgi one last wistful smile, and then spins on her heels.

Though it looks like it has taken her such effort to do so; Seulgi can see it in her eyes, in the way her feet move but the rest of her body protests, how much Irene doesn’t want to leave but has to.

And, frankly, Seulgi doesn’t want her to, either.

She catches Irene by the wrist before the other woman can make it far, tugging lightly until Irene turns back to her.

“Seulgi?”

Irene’s brows are furrowed; Seulgi has to resist reaching a hand out to smooth it.

Instead, she asks, “Can—can I see you again?”

Irene smiles softly at her then, the kind that reaches her eyes. She looks so beautiful it hurts, aches in ways she wants to paint Irene past a canvass and onto her skin.

But anything other than the real thing would never be enough, she knows, so maybe she just has to settle with making Irene smile like that every day.

“I’m already looking forward to it.” Irene tilts her heads and nods before walking down the cobbled path, taking Seulgi’s breath and Seulgi’s heart away with her.

...

 

ii.

“Yah, Seulgi,” Wendy says by way of greeting, when she sees Seulgi step out of the car to pick her up at her work lab the next morning.

“Hey,” Seulgi greets back as she makes a grab for Wendy’s overnight bag, offering a steaming cup of coffee in exchange.

Wendy steps inside the passenger seat and doesn’t even try to protest, even though she’s perfectly capable of doing things on her own. She has long accepted that it’s second nature to Seulgi.

Seulgi stashes the bag inside the car’s trunk, slides into the driver’s seat after, and pulls the car door closed.

Wendy watches her the entire time, switching between curious eyes and arched brows.

A ghost of a smile seems to rest on Seulgi’s lips, something that’s there but not quite fully. It’s hidden beneath the nibbling of Seulgi’s teeth, in the way she catches her bottom lip in between.

There’s a bounce in her step that just exudes giddiness, yet, it’s tamped down by Seulgi trying to keep a straight face.

Wendy hums interesting under her breath, then, “Were you on a date last night?”

Seulgi’s triumphant yell after she finally wrestles her seat belt on quickly morphs into a feigned scoff, “What?”

Wendy, in turn, rolls her eyes. “You’re being suspiciously weird.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“Your voice is all high,” Wendy states, then raises her index finger to point at Seulgi’s torso. “And you got your seat belt all twisted.”

Seulgi quickly looks down, and then groans.

“I’m just asking.” Wendy tries to placate her obviously flustered friend, shrugging nonchalantly. “I mean, it’s been a while, so it’s totally okay.”

Seulgi snorts, then, “Try years.”

“Okay, fine, years.” Wendy concedes. “So, were you?”

“What makes you think I was?” Seulgi leaves the question hanging, busying herself with undoing the seatbelt just so she can hide the blush on her face that she’s sure is going to give her away.

Although, well, technically, she wasn’t on a date, but, still—

“You woke up at,” Wendy takes a quick pause to glance at the dashboard clock, “seven on your only day off this week.”

“I did say I’d pick you up and take you home, didn’t I?”

“And you were all smiles when you got here.”

“It’s my day off,” Seulgi counters. “That’s reason enough for me.”

“Seulgi.” Wendy throws her a look that clearly says, really. “You look like you want to fling yourself into space.”

Seulgi snorts a second time but chooses to not dignify her friend’s point with a response.

At this, Wendy pouts. But Seulgi merely throws her a yeah nice try, so she pulls out the secret weapon that never fails to go straight for Seulgi’s jugular. “No secrets, right?”

Seulgi throws her hands up in the air, giving up the pretense of fixing her hopeless seatbelt. “Okay.” She drops her entire weight against the seat rest. “It wasn’t a date.”

“But?” Wendy waits expectantly, watching a dreamy smile slowly bloom on Seulgi’s lips.

“But yes, I did meet someone last night. She spilled coffee all over me.”

She scrunches her face, nose crinkling in confusion. “And that’s romantic?”

“Well no. It was painful as hell. But, well, the rest of the night was, I guess.”

Wendy shuffles on her seat, propping her weight against the seat rest, and quietly takes a sip from her coffee cup.

But it doesn't lull Seulgi into the false sense that Wendy's going to drop it. She knows her friend after all.

She's proven right when Wendy starts the whole thing again. “You know I’m not gonna stop digging for deets right? Better to just cough them up now.”

“Oh, I should?”

“Come on!”

“Let’s see,” Seulgi answers coyly. She tilts her head, pretending to ponder the thought, but the smile she hides behind her own cup lid while she takes a sip gives her away.

“Cough it up, Kang Seulgi. Tell me! Was she pretty?”

Seulgi hisses out the scalding feeling at the tip of her tongue. Then, she opens to speak, tries to say, “Beautiful is an understatement, trust me. She’s just...”

But she’s failing to find the right words, so she just lets her free hand flail in gesture, and leaves it hanging in the air.

“Speechless, I see.” Wendy nods her head in approval. “You better have that second date lined up.”

“I…” Seulgi starts, and then sighs in defeat. “It’s not. Unfortunately.”

It’s Wendy who scoffs this time despite the disappointment lacing Seulgi’s tone. “What?” She glares at her disapprovingly—like she hasn’t taught her anything. “Why not?”

“Look, last night wasn’t even a date.” Seulgi reasons, looking helpless; the slope of her shoulders drooping. “She spilled coffee on me, and then asked me to dinner as an apology.”

Wendy tsks, then, “Seulgi.” She schools her face into a serious expression, and leans past the handbrake to close in on her friend, staying silent.

It unnerves Seulgi just as she has expected, to the point that Seulgi is forced to turn and meet her eyes. “Repeat after me: no one buys a random stranger dinner if they’re not interested.”

“Yeah, well, she offered coffee first and I said she didn’t have to.”

“But she still insisted on dinner, right?” Wendy says matter-of-factly. At Seulgi’s timid nod, she adds, “Trust me, she’s interested.”

Seulgi sighs in surrender. Her once stiff arms—propped by her hands as she grips the steering wheel—hangs low now. “I don’t even know if she’s into women, you know.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to ask her,” Wendy points out, deciding to tack on an over a cup of coffee, preferably as she sees Seulgi’s resolve slowly weaken.

“Yeah?” Seulgi mumbles. She dips her head, looking at Wendy sheepishly from under the lids.

Wendy responds with nothing but a soft smile in kind. “You know it,” she says. It’s not one in jest, not when a strong, consistently confident Kang Seulgi is shying away from something.

Seulgi’s eyes slowly light up as she warms up to the idea. Why she didn’t think of that first, she doesn’t really know, but, yes, she can definitely do that.

An official date, this time.

She stews over the thought in silence for a moment—Wendy willingly letting her—her mind already lost in visions of her and Irene together, of perfect date plans and holding hands.

“You should call her,” Wendy urges on when it looks like Seulgi’s starting to get a little too lost.

“Yeah,” Seulgi easily agrees, nodding her head while Wendy stares at her in amusement. “Yeah I can do that.” She reaches for her phone, excitedly scrolling through her contacts.

But it hits her a little too late. One day too late.

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no.”

Wendy snorts at Seulgi’s sudden outburst. “What’s up?”

“I forgot to ask for her number!”

.

 

She tries really, really hard not to roll her eyes at Seulgi’s umpteenth sigh. She feels bad for her, she really does, but she’s been quietly… moping around since they got back to their apartment and it’s only ten in the morning.

Wendy understands that it’s not her best friend’s fault, although it kind of is because she’s the one who forgot to ask, but, still, she hates seeing her sad.

So she says, “Maybe we can look her sister up, and then you can ask for her number.”

There’s a thud that makes Wendy jump a little and whip her head. It’s Seulgi’s elbows hitting the dining table as she props her hands up to bury her face in her palms.

“I don’t know where her sister is, either,” she hears her whine. “I don’t even remember her name. God, I’m so stupid.”

Wendy stretches a hand out then, patting Seulgi’s shoulder in sympathy.

(As the thumb of her free hand fires a quick text to Joy. )

.

 

Code red bring baskin love potion

Refreshing Joy🍏❤️ [10:09 AM]

we have a code now?

Just bring the ice cream!

.

 

Wendy takes the ultimate pleasure of recounting everything to Joy. It goes as well as Seulgi has expected.

Which means Joy has laughed for five minutes straight, choking on ice cream some thirty seconds in between, and cackling back as if nothing happened.

Seulgi’s tempted to question fate why is she even friends with both, as she watches Joy double over and slap her hand against her knee a few jolly times.

But when it all trickles down into giggles and Joy’s done wiping the tears of laughter under her eyes, Joy says, “It’s okay, Seulgi-unnie. We’ll find her.”

Seulgi smiles a warm smile; thinks—knows—that that’s why.

...

 

two weeks and three days ago

Seulgi drops herself down unceremoniously on the couch, perches her laptop securely on her lap. It’s Drama day as she has dubbed it, and so she shuffles beneath the pillows surrounding her, sinking in further, and rests her crossed ankles on top of their coffee table.

The queue is up and ready, with a bowl of freshly microwaved popcorn by her side just waiting to be scooped up.

But she hears two pings before she can even press play. When she checks, her minimized Facebook bar is flashing, and so she puts the episode on hold for a few minutes and brings it up to read the messages.

It’s Joy asking her to check out a link that looks suspiciously like a Facebook profile.

Seulgi’s brows furrow quizzically as her fingers hit the keys: who is this?. They drum against the flat space of the device after she presses Enter, waiting until the three dots disappear from the small window.

It’s a list of Bae Irene, reads Joy’s reply, Irenes? Whatever. I was bored this morning and I figured why not.

Oh.

Seulgi drags the pointer above Joy’s find, index finger hovering at the button. Her heart is pounding and her hands are trembling, because she may be a click away from finally finding Irene and that just feels too much; her chances resting on one click feels too much.

As if sensing her hesitation, Joy sends another message: Won’t know till you try, right?

“Fine,” grumbles Seulgi, her fingers typing the word along.

She clicks the link, finally, watches with bated breath as a new window springs up to load the page.

It takes four seconds, and Seulgi swears it’s the longest four seconds of her life.

The breath of relief comes just as the page finishes loading, only to be replaced by an even deeper sigh that fills her lungs, because the idea that Irene may exist outside of her memory now is incredibly daunting.

Seulgi swallows. Once.

Twice.

Three times.

And then, she starts to scroll.

.

 

It doesn’t really last, what with Wendy striding in not even halfway through.

She’s dawdling as she approaches Seulgi, typing on her phone and spinning her keys on her free hand’s index finger. Seulgi can’t help but think her timing has been deliberate.

Wendy pockets her phone next, and then halts at the sight of her friend hunched over her laptop. Seulgi’s nose is a hairsbreadth away from touching the screen, she notes, so she asks, “What are you doing?”

Her eyes narrow as Seulgi pulls back in a snap with wide eyes; a deer caught in headlights.

“Nothing.” A tan hand darts out, instinctively slamming the laptop shut.

Wendy, dubious, reaches for Seulgi's laptop—like it’s hers—and actually has the nerve to ask, “You’re watching , aren’t you?”

“What?” Seulgi cries, mortified and blushing profusely at the accusation. “No!”

Wendy smirks at the way her whole face is flushed red. “Really.”

“I wasn’t!”

“If you say so,” Wendy singsongs.

Seulgi sighs as she rolls her eyes. She could be blue to the face and Wendy would still not believe it, so she doesn’t waste another breath in trying to convince her otherwise.

...

 

two weeks ago

Joy gets the coffee started, filling it to the brim. Wendy and Seulgi have been on a coffee kick lately, both going through twice the number of cups they normally do whenever they’re at home.

(With Wendy, she knows it’s to keep her awake while working on her project; Seulgi, not so much.)

The kitchen is quiet, save for the sound of their coffee machine percolating and the scrape of rubber spatula against metal pan.

She watches Seulgi wordlessly flip pancakes for a few beats, then, decides to ask, “Still no luck?”

Seulgi breathes out a no dejectedly. Wendy’s got a knack for finding people and she’s damn good at it, but the one person Seulgi desperately wishes for her to find, Wendy can’t seem to uncover even a single trace of. “She said she’s just visiting. She probably even left already.”

“But she didn’t say when exactly she’s leaving,” Joy says, tone encouraging.

“It’s been a week—”

“It’s just a week,” she counters quickly. “There’s a good chance that she’s still here. Come on, unnie. I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

“A good feeling?”

“Yeah, like—” Joy pauses with purpose.

Seulgi hears her clearing . She only does that when she’s about to say something unexpected or equally cheesy that would leave one of them or all of them gagging.

“Like?” She drawls out with slow nods; a gesture for her to continue.

“Like, it was meant to happen. You were meant to meet her.”

Seulgi throws her a puzzled look, then studies her with playful suspicion. She doesn’t about her reddening cheeks, but she does ask, “Have you been going through your drama binge again?”

“I haven’t,” Joy huffs. “I’m just saying it’s possible.”

“In movies,” Seulgi says, plating the pancakes with practiced ease and placing them at the center of their small table. “But, Jwoy, this is real life. I don’t think I’m that lucky.”

“Says who?” Joy protests.

“Okay, no one did, but… I…” Seulgi can’t help but trail off at her friend’s determined stare.

“You won’t know until you tried, right?” Joy says, biting the piece of pancake she’s speared on with her fork with a triumphant grin when she sees the contemplative look on Seulgi’s face.

...

 

one week ago

Seulgi crosses one more name off her list—a list Joy has scribbled down at the last minute; names of people Joy has, in a sense, made good business with within the past years.

One more favor cashed in but coming up empty, she thinks as she reads:

SinB [5:05 PM]

Sorry, no Bae Irene in the area. You sure that’s her real name?

Even if it isn’t, Seulgi types back, frustrated thumbs and all, that’s all I got.

She goes through her list once more, not one bit surprised that half has already been crossed. About a third of it had gone through hotels and inns and everything, but they all came up with nothing.

Seulgi runs a weary hand on her face over and over until her phone lights up again, snapping her back to attention.

SinB [5:08 PM]

Okay. Will do one more sweep around. Tell Sooyoung we’re even.

Seulgi fires a quick, I just did. And then pulls up the reply she just got from Joy, chuckling as she reads it.

Jjwai [5:09 PM]

Honestly, these lackwits are getting off way too easy.

...

 

five days ago

Joy and Wendy manage to convince her to go around Ansan Park in hopes that they’d bump into Irene. Joy reasons that maybe she’s the lucky charm Seulgi needs, and Wendy says she’s coming with because, well, Seulgi needs someone to remind her to get Irene’s number this time.

(Also, that she really needs to get out of the apartment so that she could stop moping. Neither Joy nor Wendy tells her that, of course.)

Seulgi gives them both a hard time, but ultimately, she relents. She can never really deny her best friends anything—and herself, really, because she needs this.

So they’re spending their afternoon roaming around the park for hours, making sure that they have a good time even if their search ends up entirely fruitless.

It turns out just as what Seulgi has expected. They didn’t see Irene or even a trace of her, though Seulgi keeps a smile on for her friends’ sake, trying to hide the sinking feeling that’s been churning in her stomach since morning.

“Tired?” She asks Wendy as soon as she notices that she’s starting to drag her feet as she walks.

Wendy shakes her head, fueled by determination to find this Irene woman that’s making Seulgi smile and causing her to drag herself dispiritedly all around the apartment at the same time.

But she’s hungry too, and a little cranky, which is her ultimate tell. So Seulgi grabs her by the shoulders and guides her towards one of the vacant benches near the river.

“Stay there,” Seulgi instructs as she gently pushes her down to sit, “I’ll go grab us some tteokbokki.”

“Fine,” she grunts. She watches Seulgi go until she’s a blur of dark blue coat and brown hair.

Joy plops down next to Wendy, roaming her gaze around and smiling at the many dogs she can see playing with their respective owners. Joy’s eyes follow the grown Golden Retriever that’s running for a thrown stick. It landed near the guy whom she remembers is one of those that are handing out flyers for a new phone brand scheduled to launch that night. (She only knows because she’s been handed one too.)

The dog picks the stick up with its mouth and trots proudly back to its owner, its head held high. Joy’s smile grows into a grin.

She doesn’t notice that Seulgi is already back, so when she hears her ask what’s so funny, she almost jumps off the bench.

“Unnie!” Joy huffs out loud. “That wasn’t funny!”

“It so was,” Wendy teases, laughing to herself as she watches Joy fold her arms over her chest and huff some more.

“Alright, fine. It wasn’t,” Seulgi gives in. “But, here, I brought you something.”

She holds out the takeout boxes like a peace offering, which Joy eagerly—though slightly begrudgingly—accepts.

“Thanks,” she says after swallowing her first bite.

Seulgi plops down next to Wendy, sandwiching her in between Joy and herself. She fishes the bottles of water that she’s also bought out of the plastic bag and passes one to each.

She cracks hers open, taking a huge gulp before speaking. “So…”

Joy turns her head, looking at Seulgi expectantly.

“It’s gonna get dark soon. Wanna head home?”

Joy doesn’t answer. Instead, she turns her head back to the guy with the flyers, staring at him—at the stack of papers cradled in his arm to be exact.

“Joy?”

She returns her gaze to Seulgi again. This time, with a huge, almost victorious smile.

She’s got it.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

...

 

four days ago

She’s poring over her post-op charts when her phone chirps out loud inside her pocket.

Seulgi drops the hand holding the clipboard and fishes her phone with her free hand. The screen is brightly illuminated and she can see the short preview of the message she just got.

When she sees the name of the sender, she all but throws the charts at the nearest nurse’s desk, and leaves a quick I’ll be back over her shoulder to the confused nurses.

The resting quarters opposite the nurses’ station is thankfully empty. She rushes inside, and with shaking fingers, swipes the pad of her thumb to unlock the phone, her heart almost up in .

Moon Byul Yi [7:23 PM]

A Bae Irene came to the station earlier. Petite. Long black hair.

Seulgi swallows thickly, tamping down the mix of nerves and dread, and that spark of hope she’s trying so hard not to kindle.

Yeah? What for?

Moon Byul Yi [7:25 PM]

Some guy's applying for a position here. I think she was with him.

Seulgi’s fingers grip the phone impossibly tighter. God, what if Irene really has someone? She can’t be—doesn’t want to be; never wants to be—the kind of person who ruins relationships.

But, maybe, maybe, this is what she needs. The closure she needs so she could stop pining over some woman she only really just met once.

It’s the same thought that pushes her to type, Got an ID of her?, despite that nameless feeling squeezing her heart again, at the thought that Irene is already with somebody else.

Maybe, maybe, after this, she can finally forget everything and put all of it behind her.

This her? pops up as she gets her reply, along with a snapped photo of Irene’s driver’s license.

Bae Irene is indeed a petite-looking woman with long black hair; but it doesn’t fall in waves, and her eyes are a different shade of brown.

Seulgi visibly sags against the door, heaving deep breaths, her shoulders slumping as the tension slowly leaves her body.

Though suddenly feeling weak, she lifts both her sluggish thumbs up and types, No, not her.

Moon Byul Yi [7:30 PM]

Copy that. Will keep an eye just in case.

Still propped against the back of the door, she replies with a quick thanks. She’s relieved, she really is, but she doesn’t really know how to feel about the fact that she’s back to square one.

.

 

The weight of uncertainty settles on her feet, making Seulgi’s steps slow and heavy.

It’s the first thing Wendy notices when she sets foot inside their apartment; prompts her to ask, “I take it it didn’t go well?”

With a deep sigh, Seulgi drops her keys on the fish bowl filled with colored aquarium rocks. “No one came up with anything.”

She slumps against the closed door, tipping her head up to look at the ceiling. Anywhere but at Wendy, really.

“Sometimes I think I just dreamed all of it up, you know?” Comes out as an afterthought of a self-deprecating smile.

Wendy, in turn, shuffles on the couch and sits up straighter, her eyes never leaving Seulgi. “Seulgi…”

Seulgi shakes her head first, and then both of her hands, like she’s shaking the feeling off of her system. “Anyway, I’m gonna go to bed.”

“You don’t want dinner?”

“I think I’ll pass. I’m not hungry anyway.”

Wendy follows Seulgi’s walking form, and only takes her eyes off of her when Seulgi disappears behind her room’s door.

She grabs her phone, swipes to Joy’s thread, and then types Please tell me you got something. I'm all out.

Refreshing Joy🍏❤️ [9:31 PM]

i’m not the convenience store, wendy-unnie. i don't stock the alcohol.

Joy’s reply would have been hilarious, if she wasn't so worried about her friend. So she shoots a reply, Not that, smartass. I mean, Seulgi.

i’m working on it, Joy answers. Yet, somehow, Wendy feels like Joy isn't so sure, either.

...

 

iii.

three days ago

She’s going crazy.

Either that, or Ansan is suddenly filled with petite women who all think that black coats, long, wavy hair and brown eyes is the trend these days.

Though, they’re never really the same; none of them can quite match the shade of brown Seulgi has seen—like soil covered in dew, glinting under the first sunshine after a storm.

There’s one, there’s one who would’ve matched, except she’s not the right height and she doesn’t have the ghost of Irene’s smile that Seulgi has permanently etched in her mind.

But Seulgi’s already darting a hand out, stopping the stranger in her steps before she even realizes what she’s doing.

She has brown eyes too, but are incredibly lighter. Her hair is long, but it doesn’t fall in waves the way Irene’s does.

“I—“ Seulgi starts to say, an apology dangling at the tip of her tongue. But the woman’s—no, the girl’s—companion snatches the arm off of her once sure hold.

“Can we help you?” Seulgi hears a hiss.

“I’m sorry!” Seulgi says, holding both her hands up in apology at the same time the girl puts a calming hand on her companion’s arm.

“I think she just mistook me for someone else, Jennie,” the girl says, and then turns to Seulgi. “Didn’t you?”

Seulgi nods, feeling her whole face flush with embarrassment. “I did. And I’m sorry. I just really thought you were someone I know.”

The girl smiles at her kindly. “Please, there’s no need to worry.”

“Thanks,” Seulgi mumbles, trying not to grimace at the threatening look the girl’s dark brown-haired companion leaves her with. “I’ll let you be on your way.”

She’s going crazy. She knows she is.

...

 

two days ago

Jjwai [4:59 PM]

Seulgi-unnie, can you pick me up and come with me to the store when your shift’s over? I need to grab some stuff for a project.

Seulgi reads the message twice before hitting the reply button, and then glances at her watch as she types: Yeah sure, but only if you put the phone down because you shouldn’t be texting while you’re in class!

YES MOM is Joy’s reply; Seulgi doesn’t need to see her to know that she’s rolling her eyes. She laughs, types, I'm just saying. And yeah, sure.

Her phone beeps not even a few seconds after. It reads Awesome! when she opens the message. Seulgi re-locks the screen, sets her phone down with a gentle shake of the head and gets back to work.

(Or at least she tries to.)

.

 

She picks up Joy later on, who only shrugs at her in response when she asks her what she’s going to do with the thick stack of blank recycled papers she’s carrying in her arms.

Seulgi crosses her arms over her chest and raises an eyebrow at her. She stares wordlessly until Joy groans and grumbles, “It’s for my project.”

“Are you going to build an entire village out of paper maches or?”

“I’ll explain later,” Joy answers. It’s quite obvious that she’s trying to evade the question, judging by the way her eyes shift. “I gotta get the other stuff first.”

.

 

Seulgi is honestly wondering what the final leg of film school consists of as they roam through the aisles of the store down their block, and what they’d need duct tape and super glue for. She briefly contemplates on asking, but, yeah, she thinks she’s better off not knowing.

Besides, it’s really probably some mache thing. Seulgi’s pretty positive, what with the loads of paper Joy has dumped on the back seat of her car.

But then, Joy’s running back to the aisle to grab another roll of duct tape and a staple gun, plus three boxes of staple wires, and Seulgi’s no longer so sure.

...

 

one day ago

She’s reading the newest issue of Medicine in Korea Today when she hears a loud thud in front of her, something that sounds like one of Wendy’s thick books thrown on top of the wooden dining table.

She lowers the magazine down, ready to reprimand her, because, really, their table isn’t that sturdy.

Except, what greets her is the recycled papers from yesterday, and one Park Sooyoung smirking at her.

Seulgi’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, but it quickly turns to apprehension because she knows her friend’s smirk.

She’s up to something, that much is clear, and judging by the papers in front of her, the box of markers and colored pencils right next to it, she’s gonna be roped into whatever brilliant plan she has set her mind on.

Deciding to go with nonchalance, she greets her. “Good morning.”

Joy wordlessly pulls a chair out in response, but scoots it so that she’s facing Seulgi when she finally sits. Then, eagerly leaning forward, she says, “I know how to find Irene.”

Seulgi stares at her for a good long second, studying her face. Joy doesn’t even flinch under Seulgi’s, well, scrutiny, and that’s when Seulgi knows that she’s serious about this.

“Joy,” She sighs as she flips the magazine close, putting it away. “I think it’s time for us—for this... to stop.”

“But we’re gonna find her, I promise,” Joy replies, in a firm tone of voice full of conviction that Seulgi can’t believe is coming from her. (But Joy’s always had a fire in her that no one can ever put out. She can’t help but be swayed a little.) “And I know just how!”

“How then?” Seulgi asks, challenging. “You’ve tried every trick you know. Wendy asked around. We’ve looked for her everywhere. We were all but one step in crossing the stalking line.”

“I know,” grumbles Joy. And she does, what with Wendy electing herself in charge of keeping everyone’s ways in line. “But maybe we’ve been going at it the wrong way. Maybe we don’t need to look for her.”

Seulgi grabs her cup of coffee, taking a sip, then, “So what should we be doing then?”

“What if she needs to come to us?”

Seulgi turns quiet for a moment. That possibility has never even crossed her mind, and she’s simultaneously embarrassed and proud, because, well, it’s a sensible point.

At her friend’s silence, Joy presses on. “She’s somewhere out there. And if she sees that you’re looking for her, then she’ll come to you.”

Seulgi heaves a deep breath, and then groans. She honestly can’t believe that she’s asking the question, but she does, anyway. “And how are we going to do that?”

Joy scrambles for a marker on the box and grabs a piece of paper as well. “By spreading the word!”

“Mwo?!” Seulgi blurts out, a little too loudly.

The sound completely wakes a still dozy Wendy up, stumbling towards her two friends as she rubs the sleep off of her eyes. “What’s this meeting for? And where’s the coffee?”

“Hi unnie,” Joy greets, and then her head to point at the coffee machine currently percolating. “Brewing a second batch just for you, Houston.”

She pulls a chair, patting the empty seat. “I was just telling Seulgi-unnie how we can find Irene.”

“Oh,” says Wendy, and then, hums. She plops down the chair, resting her weight against its back. “I honestly thought we’re done with that. I mean, it’s been weeks.”

At that, Joy’s shoulders slump down. “Come on. Not you too.”

“Wendy’s right, Joy,” Seulgi agrees. “I don’t think—”

“Just—hear me out, okay?” Joy quickly cuts off. Things are so not going according to plan.

Seulgi chances a look at Wendy, her eyes asking. Wendy simply shrugs in response, which—yeah, isn’t exactly helpful.

Seulgi returns her attention to Joy then, who looks earnest and just really, really wanting to help.

Finally, Seulgi sighs, and then nods at Joy. “Okay. Okay.”

Joy breathes out her relief, a lungful next. “I know what we have to do.”

It’s Wendy who asks, “And that is?”

Joy pulls a glossy piece of paper from under the stack of the recycled ones. It’s the one she got from when they roamed around Ansan Park, about the new phone brand’s launch (that’s probably done now).

She holds it up for Seulgi and Wendy to see, and then, grins. “Flyers.”

.

 

Fifteen pounding heartbeats later, a strangled sound escapes from Seulgi’s throat; Wendy doesn’t say another word, but her eyes scream amusement.

God, no. No matter how bad Seulgi wants to find Irene, she just can’t put something personal, something private, out there for people to feast on. And because most people are plain s, they’d probably just laugh at her, mock her.

She can’t. She won’t.

She tells Joy this, that she doesn’t think it’s a good idea. That she doesn’t think people will be welcoming, even if they’re in the most accepting part of the town one can find in Ansan. And that she’s just not comfortable revealing a piece of herself and leaving it for everyone to see.

Joy ponders it quietly for a moment, looking dejected. But all her thoughts ultimately come down to one thing; she knows—she just knows that Seulgi and that Irene woman were meant to meet each other. She can feel it in her bones.

Besides, it’s how every movie goes.

She lets her lower lip jut out, and then asks, “Isn’t she worth it?”

“Oh my God,” Seulgi groans, dropping her head until her forehead hits the table. Joy and Wendy always know to aim for the jugular; their talent, of course. The little s.

Of course she’s worth it. She took Seulgi’s heart with her that night they parted ways. She won’t have a heart to give away ever again.

So maybe, she does need to find Irene, if only to ask for her heart back.

Or ask for Irene’s, in exchange. Because, yes, that would really be nice.

.

 

After a few wasted papers, Wendy, Joy and her finally decide on what to hand out.

It goes like this:

#HaveYouSeenHer? is screaming in bolded letters right on top. The size is already quite eye catching. What follows are the few things she’s listed down about Irene, sans her name. Petite, brown eyes, long, wavy hair are all listed in bullet form. And then there’s a sketch of Irene’s face that Seulgi has drawn from her very vivid memory.

Right at the foot of the flyer is the number of the prepaid phone she’s rushed to grab at the nearest convenience store half an hour ago, so she won’t have to compromise her personal number. And the twitter account Joy made just for this purpose.

Joy slides the paper to her once she’s done putting the finishing touches. Seulgi reads through it one last time before nodding her approval.

Joy grins, and then hands her the stack of papers so that she can start copying what they've finished.

Seulgi stares at it for a moment, face crumpling at the thought of having to draw on every piece of paper they have.

But it’s Wendy who throws her hands up in the air. “You know what,” she says, “I’ll bring this to work tomorrow and get it copied.”

Irene may be worth Seulgi’s everything, but there’s just no way that Seulgi’s doing this handwritten.

...

 

present day

Seulgi feels a gentle hand on her shoulder, breaking her thoughts. When the haze clears, she sees Wendy snapping her fingers in front of her face.

“You okay? You kinda spaced out for a bit.”

Seulgi shakes her head, shaking the remnants of her thoughts out of her system. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. I just remembered something.”

“Okay.” Wendy shrugs in response.

Joy then asks, “Ready to go?”

“I probably never will be,” Seulgi answers truthfully, but she’s basically saying it to the world today, and she’s going to find Irene even if it’s the last thing she does. She gathers the flyers in her arms, pressing the stack close to her chest.

Oh yeah, she really is doing this.

.

 

They start at Ansan Park of course, at the exact same spot that she and Irene had stood at before they parted ways.

It’s a full circle of sorts or something equally poetic, Seulgi likes to think.

Joy and Wendy stand dutifully beside her. Joy’s trying so hard not to bounce on her feet in excitement, but she’s failing.

Wendy, meanwhile, completely has her cool. But then, Joy’s ing her phone into her hands, asking her to turn the camera on, and now she’s having a field day.

Which Seulgi very much protests to. “You never mentioned filming it!”

“It’s for posterity,” Joy counters. “A good story to tell the grandkids, you know.”

Seulgi is about to lob back another protest when Joy spots a middle-aged couple passing by, and decides that she will be handing their first ever flyer to them. She figures people in love will have soft spots, and their positive reaction will give them the confidence boost they—just Seulgi, really—obviously need.

“Hi!” She happily greets, stepping forward eagerly. She feels the ghost of Seulgi’s fingers on her elbow, but she soldiers on, grinning toothily at the couple.

“Hello young lady,” the middle-aged woman greets back kindly. “May I help you?”

“My friends and I are looking for someone,” Joy explains. “Will you take a flyer and maybe you can help us find her?”

The woman puts a hand on her chest, cooing, while the other reaches forward to pinch her cheek. “You are such a nice lady, helping your friends. Of course, we’d love to help, won’t we honey?” She turns to her husband who simply grunts in response.

Joy keeps her grin, but her jaw clenches at the action. (She’s a grown woman for heaven’s sake, not a child.)

But the elderly woman’s saying that she’ll take more to give to her neighbors, and that alone makes up for it.

“Good luck on your search!” The woman says before walking away.

When Joy comes back to her friends, Wendy’s laughing in disbelief and Seulgi is shaking her head.

“I didn’t think you could pull that off,” Seulgi admits.

“It’s coz I’m adorable.”

“Yep,” Wendy agrees, popping the p. She darts a hand out, pinching Joy’s cheek the same way the woman did. “That’s it, really.”

“Unnie!”

.

 

Joy sticks to handing out the flyers as they walk around, having proven that she can charm most of the people if not all, while Seulgi and Wendy busy themselves with putting them up on every surface available and within reach.

Rosé has come along too after Joy shoots her a text. Though, really, her reasons for going are more of to get Seulgi to blush hard on cam (because it’s so going on Facebook), than to help. And Wendy may or may not have bribed her with a free meal (that is going on Seulgi’s tab, Seulgi just doesn’t know it yet).

So this is what the duct tape is for, Seulgi thinks as she helps Rosé secure the paper on one of the posts dedicated for putting up flyers. She still can’t believe Joy got her to think that it really was for a project.

At least it’s nowhere near the worst thoughts her brain has come up with, like hands and feet tied together with duct tape or something as equally morbid.

She seriously needs to lay off watching those late night murder shows.

Better yet, she needs to stop her brain from replaying Irene’s smile over and over in her head, just so it won’t keep her up at night.

.

 

By the time lunchtime comes, Joy’s enthusiasm has noticeably lessened and Rosé’s whining about her stomach grumbling, so Seulgi decides to take a break and grab some food from the nearest place they can find.

She leads them to one of the booths of the diner they chose and flags down the waitress right away.

As Seulgi opens to place their orders, Joy rushes to cut her off. “Hi! You look like a really nice lady.”

“Joy, no,” Seulgi voices out a horrified protest as she catches sight of the twinkle in Joy's eyes.

But Joy prattles on like she didn’t hear a thing, and oh, God, Seulgi is going to die from embarrassment.

“Can you help us find my friend’s soulmate? She’s looking for her.” Joy reaches for a few flyers and hands them off to the waitress. Then, she juts her chin out, pointing at the wall opposite her that’s filled with all sorts of glossy papers and parchments. “Can you post them here?”

“Soulmate, huh?” The waitress says, accepting the papers with arched eyebrows and an amused smile. “Well, we can’t stand in the way of that, can we? I’ll make sure to post these right away.”

“Thank you!” Joy replies. “Also, we’ll all have tteokbokki and tornado fries. And oooh, lemonade.”

“Alrighty. Be right back with your orders.”

Wendy throws her head back, cackling as Rosé snickers beside her. While Joy returns their attention to them with the most innocent smile on her face.

Seulgi’s jaw falls open, moving like a fish that’s out of the water. She’s too stunned to speak, too stunned to tell Joy that no, she’s definitely not in love with Irene.

Not yet, at least.

And oh, that she really, really shouldn’t be telling people that.

.

 

(Except, Joy never really did say she was in love with Irene.

It was a possibility she just willingly admitted to herself.

Oh heol.)

.

 

Late afternoon comes and Seulgi and Wendy are practically dead on their feet. Joy, on the other hand, is still as enthusiastic as ever, handing out flyers and pointing at the perfect spots to post.

There’s about ten pieces left when they finally decide to head home. She’s inserting her key on their door when her prepaid phone rings for the first time ever.

Her eyes widen in surprise, her hands suspended in the air. For a moment she absolutely doesn’t know what to do other than stay frozen, but Joy nudges her and tells her to pick up the call.

“Unnie! You gotta pick up! That could be her!” Joy practically shouts.

Seulgi nods dumbly. Her hand is violently shaking as she fishes the phone out from the back pocket of her jeans, and she almost can’t steady her thumb long enough to press the answer button.

But she does, finally. With her heart pounding beneath her chest, she presses the phone against her ear.

“Yo-yoboseyo?”

“Hey,” A man’s voice greets her from the other line. “You’re the woman from the park earlier, right? The brunette one handing out the flyers?”

“Ne, that’s me,” Seulgi confirms. She chances a glance towards her friends, breaking into a smile when she sees them looking back at her with eager anticipation.

“Oh, good,” the man breathes out. “Uhm, listen, this is kinda unusual but, I saw you at the park earlier. And uh…”

“And what?” Seulgi politely asks, though she has a feeling where the conversation is going and she’s almost tempted to hang up.

“I was thinking you were really pretty,” he finally says.

There’s a pregnant pause where Seulgi contemplates on how to respond. She could really just hang up and not bother with answering at all, or she could let loose of some of the frustration building up inside her.

She decides with, “You did read the flyer right?”

“I did.”

“So you know that I’m looking for someone?”

“Well yeah, but—“

“Great!” Seulgi says, feigning enthusiasm. “We’re clear then. Bye.”

She presses the end call button with a grumble, and then slumps against the still closed door in disappointment.

.

 

Her frustration spills out over their dinner, which she only openly admits when Joy sneaks behind her and asks as she stares down at the plate, over Seulgi’s shoulder.

“Uhm, what is that?”

“Dinner,” Seulgi sighs in defeat. “Or I was hoping it would be.”

Joy grimaces at the thought of having to consume it. “Please tell me we’re not going to eat that?”

“Of course not. I already ordered pizza. Should be here in a few.”

“Oh thank God.” She breathes out an overdrawn sigh, masking the snicker that comes with the fact that her phone is filing evidence for posterity. But the shutter sound of her camera gives her away.

“Oh God, Joy,” Seulgi groans, her face flushing with embarrassment. “Can we not immortalize this moment?”

“Sorry, but I can’t let this pass!” She chortles loudly then, now that she’s been caught. She pulls up the twitter application on her phone, types really quickly and attaches the picture of the burned ramen Seulgi tried to cook.

Too damn distracted to do anything right.

...

 

iv.

It’s a surprisingly quiet three days, with unhelpful phone calls or two. Joy pestering Wendy and her to make more copies is the only source of ruckus.

So when she gets home, Seulgi is a little surprised to find Wendy hunched over the coffee table, her eyes glued to her phone. Usually, she gets home to her friends binging on various shows or playing on one of their many consoles.

The apartment is quiet for once; and though it’s admittedly a little bit disconcerting, it’s also a welcomed reprieve.

“You seem kinda busy there,” Seulgi says as she drops her keys into the bowl. She plops next to Wendy, looking over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” the smaller woman answers, but the way she tucks her phone in between her hand and her chest is a dead giveaway.

“Uh huh,” Seulgi nods slowly. “Where’s Joy?” She asks in a casual tone, eyes not leaving Wendy’s face.

Wendy fixes her eyes at a spot on their tv’s screen, pretending to watch. (It would’ve fooled Seulgi, if only it was .) “It’s d-day remember? She’s supposed to present her film idea so she’s gonna be running late.”

Seulgi tries to shuffle through her mental notes, but the days and the weeks have blurred into on shift and off days for her; she can’t even tell what day it is now if anyone asks.

Though she knows that Joy’s gonna be up for a big break if she impresses the film panel (which Seulgi has no doubt she would).

“Okay,” Seulgi drawls, dragging the a. Then, she jumps off the couch and faces the direction of her room. “I’m gonna go get changed.”

Wendy purses her lips, nods. “‘Kay.” She lifts the phone still pressed on her chest a little, allowing her to glance at the screen.

She would’ve pumped a fist in the air in triumph, but then, Seulgi’s saying, “And you’re going to tell me who’s the lucky person when I get back.”

Wendy plops face down on the couch instead.

.

 

“Her name is Eunji. I met her two months ago,” Wendy starts right as Seulgi walks out of her room, rather stiffly that Seulgi can’t help but roll her eyes.

“Would you relax? This isn’t an interrogation. Why are you and Joy the extra queens that you are?”

“It's a requirement for Joy’s industry,” Wendy quips back, and then pulls a face at the thought of her other friend. “Mine, though, it's inborn.”

Despite curbing the urge to laugh, Seulgi does, and ends up shoving the other woman playfully.

“Can we wait for Joy to get home, at least?” Wendy asks as soon as their laughter trickles down. “Saves me from telling it twice.”

“Fine,” Seulgi acquiesces. “But you're making dinner for making me wait.”

Wendy rolls her eyes and stomps her way to the kitchen, all the while mumbling about princesses living up to their titles.

.

 

Seulgi gets three phone calls in between waiting for dinner to be done and Joy to get home, one of which she desperately wants to bleach off of her brain.

Wendy throws her friend a concerned look from her spot by the stove when she hears a constrained scream, followed by a thud that’s akin to solid plastic hitting wood. Seulgi's Irene phone, she's pretty sure.

“Everything okay there, Seulgi?” Wendy shouts.

As Seulgi's voice draws closer, Wendy can hear the frustration in her tone. “Fine.” She walks into the kitchen and starts grabbing plates, spoons, and forks. “Just some dumb idiot who thinks I'm a phone se—you know what, I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Oh my God. This is gold.”

“Wendy. Don't.”

.

 

Joy sadly misses dinner, but not the popcorn since she gets home just as Wendy is putting the latest episode of Game of Thrones on.

She’s already shouting I got the green light, unnies! I’m gonna be rich as even though the door hasn't been opened completely.

Wendy, who's curled up beside Seulgi, bolts upright and meets Joy with her arms stretched out. “You got it?!”

“I so ing did!”

Joy next yells something unintelligible that Wendy apparently understands; Seulgi can only shake her head.

She watches her two friends do some sort of crazy dance in the middle of their living room, and finds herself laughing, instead of wanting to chastise Joy for the use of such language which she normally would do.

Joy’s on her way to being the next big thing and Wendy’s met a girl after a long while. Seulgi thinks at least two out of three has got luck by their side.

.

 

It's almost midnight by the time Joy’s high comes down, and it's only then that Wendy gets to tell them all about Eunji.

“I was getting coffee and she was getting two cups,” Wendy starts.

Joy, who has her head on Wendy’s lap and her feet on Seulgi's, glances up to look at the other woman. “You sure she's single?”

“She said it was for her friend.”

Seulgi's fingers stop massaging Joy’s calf as she raises an eyebrow at Wendy. “You asked?”

Wendy shakes her head in answer. “She said she needed to go because her friend was waiting, but that she'd love to buy me coffee some time so she asked for my number.”

Joy’s shoulders shake as laughter bubbles out of . “Shoot her a text and tell her Seulgi-unnie wants to take Dating 101 lessons from her.”

“Shut up!” Seulgi pinches her leg in retaliation.

Joy lets out a small yelp, darts a hand out to soothe the offended spot.

Wendy laughs a throaty chuckle. It's a telltale of her sleepy state; they need to go to bed sometime soon.

Seulgi lets her weight drop against the couch rest as she closes her eyes, asking in between yawns. “Learned anything interesting about her yet?”

“She says she's in the Security Service.”

“Why is your life like a movie?” Joy wonders aloud. “Who did you sell your soul to?”

Seulgi snorts, and then adds. “She didn’t. It's just to make up for my lack of it.”

...

 

The week passes by without a worthy phone call, and by Friday, Seulgi’s tempted to shut the prepaid phone off. But she can’t really bring herself to do it, because the mere fact that there’s a chance Irene would call, no matter how slim, keeps that spark of hope in her heart alive.

(Joy has told her that their search is starting to create a buzz on twitter, though she honestly doesn’t have an idea what that implies. But Joy seems to be happy with that progress so it’s probably something good, Seulgi supposes.)

The knock on the residents station’s door at five thirty comes, and she’s ready for it this time, waiting even. She acknowledges it with a come in, though the smile she welcomes Jackson with is huge for a different reason.

“Hey Seulgi,” Jackson greets her, smiling too as he quickly picks up on her mood.

“Hey, perfect timing.” She beckons him closer, inwardly laughing at the way he basically falls to his feet. What she’s thinking is probably cruel, but it’s a chance to finally stop him from asking her out so she grabs it.

He stoops down, propping both his hands at the edge of the table Seulgi is seated behind of. “What’s up?”

Seulgi ruffles through the papers sprawled all over the table for a bit, looking for that one piece. She shouts a triumphant aha as she finds it, and then turns to Jackson. “Will you do me a favor?”

“Anything,” he rasps.

Seulgi has to fight the urge to cringe, instead keeping the smile on her face. “I’m looking for someone.” She hands him the paper. “And I think you can help me spread the word. You know, how news fly, all that stuff. I gotta start somewhere right?”

She’s barely able to hold in the snort that comes out of her as his face scrunches.

“Is this a joke?”

“Not really,” she says. “My friends think she’s my soulmate and I’m inclined to believe them.”

He slams the paper back down the table as he glowers at her. “This isn’t funny, Seulgi.”

Seulgi rolls her eyes, because, of course, he doesn’t get it. “I’m not trying to be funny. I’m saying I need help to get the word out. And since you like to drop by everywhere, I figured you’d be the best person to ask.”

Jackson straightens up, pockets both his hands. “I got the message. Don’t worry.”

Seulgi, in turn, shifts in her chair, crossing her legs in a defiant pose. And in a perfectly firm tone of voice that’s reminiscent of a future chief surgeon, she says, “Good.”

The smirk on her face grows at every step Jackson makes; and when he practically slams the door on his way out, she throws her head back and laughs.

Joy would be so proud.

...

 

Saturday morning is spent doing grocery shopping and staving off phone calls in favor of peace.

(Granted, she’s standing in the middle of Aisle 8, surrounded by chattering teens, crying kids and their harried mothers, and soft music blaring from the speakers. This fact alone is pretty telling to Seulgi’s current state of mind.)

The only call she ever picks up is the fifth one, when the rings echo all over the empty car park and gets too much.

Seulgi pushes the trunk lid close with her left hand, her right fishing the phone out of her back pocket.

Her yobo is muffled by the thud of the trunk closing.

“Uh, hi,” comes from the other line—a woman, and Seulgi feels her heart turn over beneath her chest.

“Yes?”

“I read that you’re looking for somebody.”

Seulgi presses the phone tighter in her ear, folds her free arm over her chest. “I am. You’re right.”

The line is silent for a while save for a few coughs from the caller, as if she’s clearing .

Seulgi doesn’t really have the time—and patience—to spend any second longer, so she says, “May I know why you called? Do you know the woman I’m looking for?”

“How do you know it’s not me?”

Seulgi wants to say: I’d know her voice anywhere.

Instead, she says, “I’d know.”

Seulgi wants to say: I’d know the accent, the lilt in her tone that wraps around my name.

Instead, she repeats, “I’d know if you were her, trust me.”

The line falls silent once again for a few beats; Seulgi gets enough of it in between. She pushes herself off from leaning against the trunk, bids the caller goodbye with, “So if you don’t have anything useful to say, please don’t waste my time.”

Pressing the end call button has never felt more frustrating yet satisfying.

...

 

“I wonder if she’s CIA,” Joy muses out loud. “That would explain why none of us can’t find anything, right?”

Seulgi walks out of the kitchen and into the living room, dropping her entire weight on top of the vacant spot on their long couch. She lets her back fall against the armrest, her elbows stretching out the kinks she got from carrying the groceries inside the apartment.

“Or the witness protection,” Wendy adds from her spot in the middle, nodding to herself. “What if Bae Irene isn’t even her real name?”

Joy lifts herself up from her recline to look at Seulgi. “What if she’s seen our flyers but she’s not calling because she’s not allowed to?”

“Okay, you two,” Seulgi interrupts before her friends can even delve into the worst what ifs, raising an index finger in warning. “Calm down.”

“But, unnie, you gotta admit, it would make a lot of sense.”

“Or maybe, she’s just a very private person?”

“Oh.” Joy tilts her head, clearly thinking. “Good point.”

“I think the more important matter here is,” Wendy speaks, filling in after Joy drops back her weight against the couch rest wordlessly. “Does Seulgi know the first thing she’d say to Irene when we find her?”

Joy returns her gaze back at her friend; a wordless agreement.

Seulgi stays silent for a beat as she tries hard not to squirm under her friends’ expectant stares. But the way she nibbles her lower lip sort of gives her away. “I don’t know. Hi, I guess.”

“Really?” Joy throws her a surprised look, then, “Geez, that’s super lame.”

“Well, I can’t really ask her where she’s been,” Seulgi can’t help but defend, “That’d be rude.”

“But you can’t say just hi, either!”

“I’ll figure it out,” Seulgi dismisses, waving a hand off. “We don’t even know if it’s ever going to happen.”

“Aren’t you just the most precious ray of sunshine,” teases Wendy. She lifts both her hands and gestures her wiggling fingers in the air, “and rainbows.”

Seulgi chuckles softly, darts a playful foot out to shove Wendy’s leg. “Shut up. I'm serious.”

Wendy swats at Seulgi's foot, says, “As was I.”

“It doesn't look good at this point, I know,” Joy admits. “But it's not a bad thing either. It's just going to take some time.”

“Oh she's taking her time, alright,” Seulgi can't help but grumble.

“We’ll find her, Seulgi-unnie,” Joy tries to reassure. She reaches past Wendy to wrap her fingers around Seulgi's ankle comfortingly.

“And if we don't?”

“We will,” Joy says, voice carrying an unspoken promise.

Seulgi pulls both her knees against her chest, wrapping her arm around her legs. “Yeah,” she whispers almost inaudibly.

And they both almost believe it.

...

 

Joy’s already in front of her laptop when she wakes up the next morning, scrolling through twitter as she’s prone to do these days.

She’s still convinced that they’ll find Irene soon, her faith unwavering in a way that admittedly, even Seulgi admires.

She lets her be, instead focusing on making breakfast for them. From its spot, the phone rings as it usually does the past days, but Seulgi’s determined to ignore it. She’s not prepared to deal with any kind of crazy at seven in the morning.

“Hey,” she calls out to Joy, who is busy munching on the contents of the cereal box. “Mind setting the table? I’ll fix the food.”

“Yeah, sure,” she follows, surprisingly obedient. She grabs the utensils and begins to go around the table, laying the plates down while still keeping an eye on the twitter page.

Seulgi smiles at that, laughing softly to herself. But it turns into deep sighs because Joy may not be losing hope, but she’s starting to. It’s been how many weeks since they posted the flyers, and there’s not even a tiny lead that has surfaced.

She misses Irene, she really does, and her heart sort of aches whenever she thinks about her. But Seulgi knows that they may have to stop whatever they’re doing soon, before it starts affecting all of them.

It seems harmless right now, but Seulgi knows that it would hurt them in some way at some point, though she’s not sure how. But it will, and she has to stop that from cutting in deep.

.

 

A knock on their door disrupts their quiet breakfast.

Seulgi’s unsuspecting as she comes to answer. With the series of disappointments filling her week, she’s not really banking on it being someone of importance. Probably just a delivery guy that got lost, she thinks.

It’s not a guy that greets her when she yanks the door open, though. It’s a woman, who looks tall and dressed to the nines, with an earpiece that automatically lists her as suspicious in Seulgi’s books.

“Uh,” Seulgi’s forehead scrunches, “Can I help you?”

“Actually,” the woman speaks, in a gentle tone that surprises her completely, given that she's, well, tall (or at least to Seulgi, she seems to be). “I think I can help you.”

“Sorry, but I already have a complete set of Encyclopedia Britannica. I’m not interested,” she says with a shake of the head. “So don’t waste your time—“

A deep laugh rumbles from her chest, her shoulders shaking along. “Trust me, you’d want to know this, Kang Seulgi.”

Seulgi stiffens upon hearing her call her by her full name, and her feet springs into movement, bringing the door closer to its frame while the rest of her body blocks the ample space. “Who are you?” She hisses. “How do you know my name?”

She only holds out a paper—the flyer—in response.

Seulgi stares at it in confusion. But then she remembers—realizes that they never indicated anything but the phone number and Joy’s twitter thing, so she says, “I never wrote my name in there.”

“I know,” she answers. “And I also know that you’ve been searching for Bae Irene all this time.”

“Mwo?!” Seulgi hisses sharply. She feels her body start to tremble, the emotions rushing in—the fear that she’s nothing but a creep who wants something from her, and the anticipation that she really might know who Irene is.

But she has to make sure of her—and her friends’—safety first.

“Who are you?! How do you know her?!”

“That day you saw her,” she says, then, “I was with her that night.”

Oh.

Oh.

Seulgi feels all the air rush out of her lungs, so swiftly that she stumbles back just to keep up with her breathing.

She places a hand over her chest and rubs at it until whatever’s squeezing her heart lets up (though it never does). “S-she said she was meeting a friend. In case I was wondering.”

“And she was,” she confirms. “I am that friend.”

Seulgi stares at her, her eyes tracing every inch of her face for any sign of deceit. But she has schooled it to an inscrutable expression that doesn’t give anything away.

“How do I know that you’re not some mean, lying person?” She questions. She won’t put it past people these days to try and ruin one of the best things that had happened to her life.

It’s almost amusing, the way she rolls her eyes, but Seulgi refuses to lose her ground.

“Ask Wendy.”

Okay, Seulgi’s mind screams, as she tries to calm her racing breaths. This woman knows way too much about her.

Seulgi waves a hand out, as if slicing at the air, and closes her fist. But it’s actually her trying to rein her control in.

“You know what, whatever you and Irene do is your business. Leave me out of it,” she says. But as the words spill out, she feels bile rising up and her stomach turning over at the thought of Irene being with someone else.

“Oh jinjja?” A voice from behind the woman echoes, and it’s only then that she notices the woman is accompanied by a younger one.

She has blonde hair and sharp cheeks, with a wicked glare that would make even someone as defiant as Joy cower.

“Whatever you’re thinking, that’s not it,” the younger woman insists. “She was with her because she isn’t allowed to travel alone.”

At that, Seulgi feels her heart hammer beneath her chest. “Is she in trouble?” She asks, right away, not even bothering to know who the younger woman—or these people are, really.

“She’s not,” the older of the two assures, to Seulgi’s relief. “And I can explain everything to you if you let us in.”

Seulgi nods once, but it’s firm. She yanks the door open, gesturing for her to come in. But not before sending out a warning.

“I have a… pan in the kitchen, just so you know. And I won’t hesitate to use it, so don’t try anything funny.”

“You have my word,” she says, nostrils flaring as she tries to reign in her laughter. She plops down the couch next, and makes herself comfortable. The younger woman follows quietly, sitting next to her.

Just as she opens to speak, both Joy and Wendy walk out of the kitchen, wondering what has taken Seulgi so long.

Wendy’s hey, food’s ready turns into a surprised gasp, then, “Eunji?!”

Seulgi turns her head so fast she honestly feels like she just got a whiplash. “This is her?” She returns her gaze back to the woman who hasn’t stopped smiling at Wendy since she set foot on the living room. “You’re Eunji?”

The woman in a suit—well, Eunji—finally tears her eyes away from her friend. “Yes. But that’s not what I—we are here for.”

“Right,” Seulgi nods as she remembers the conversation (if she could call what ensued in between her door and hallway one). The knowledge that this woman is Wendy’s Eunji sort of eases the feeling of distrust that has been pressing in on her chest. “You said you knew I’ve been looking for Irene.”

Eunji nods in response. “And I believe it’s just fair to say that she looked for you, too, and found you.”

“But,” Seulgi starts, yet breaks with a pregnant pause.

Because Irene looked for her, and found her, but Seulgi never received one word.

And that, that just leaves her with a growing feeling of uncertainty, and fear that maybe, maybe, she was all alone in this, after all.

She goes quiet, locking herself in her own thoughts. Maybe she got in over her head. Maybe the silence from Irene’s part meant she should’ve stopped.

A hot mug of coffee appears in her vision, coaxing her out of her head. When she looks up, it’s Wendy, smiling kindly at her.

“Seulgi,” Wendy softly calls, “listen to what she has to say first, before you let yourself get lost in there, okay?”

She taps Seulgi’s temple with two fingers, once, and then pushes the mug onto Seulgi’s hands.

Thank you, Seulgi mouths at her before turning her attention back to Eunji. “Sorry, I just…” She trails off, free hand gesturing without direction until she lets it fall limply onto her lap.

“She’s right,” Eunji says after a good long beat. “We’re here because Irene’s—”

“Acting like a middle schooler with a crush,” the younger woman she’s with finishes for her.

Despite feeling her heart turn over beneath her chest, Seulgi manages to ask I’m sorry but who are you?, wading through the jolt that runs down her spine at the implication of the younger’s words.

“Yeri, I’m Irene’s—”

“Sister,” Seulgi blurts out in realization, the same time the woman—Yeri—spills out the fact.

Then, Yeri smirks. “I see you and my sister have been talking.”

“We’re not… it was that one night.”

Yeri’s nod is drawled out, smirk still in place. “Sometimes, one night is all it takes.”

A fiery red blush darkens Seulgi’s cheeks, matched with a squeak that she never even knew she could make. “We didn’t—”

“Breathe, unnie,” Joy says in between her stifled laughter. “We know. You couldn’t even get her number.”

Seulgi lobs a pillow across the table as a retort, in a fast pitch and perfect aim that has the pillow hitting Joy square in the face.

“Children please,” Wendy chides. But it’s more out of the fear of being embarrassed in front of Eunji by a bunch of people she dared to call her friends six years ago. “Can we go back to the matter at hand?”

Eunji, in turn, throws her a grateful smile.

“For the record, I told her to call and just get it over with,” Yeri says matter-of-factly. “But my sister's all about doing things the right way. Though knowing her, it’d take years for her to make the first move.”

Seulgi drops her weight against the chair rest, reeling from the new found knowledge.

Though, amidst everything, she can't help but smile.

.

 

“Okay, that does explain a lot,” Seulgi ponders out loud, when her brain is finally able to catch up. “Why I never got a call or anything. But that doesn’t really explain why you’re here?”

“Irene has been a little distant since she came back from Ansan.” It’s Eunji who fills in this time. “The President is worried.”

As if on cue, Seulgi, Wendy and Joy all turn to gape at her with wide eyes, and then shouts, “The President?!”

Yeri’s smirk morphs into an amused, smug grin. “Kang Seulgi, meet my older sister, Bae Joohyun.”

Seulgi swallows visibly as the name bounces in her head, jogging for memories, until it hits a block that was from four years ago. “Oh God.”

“Way to go, Seulgi-unnie.” Joy doesn’t resist the urge to tip her head back this time, and cackles. “You sure know how to pick ‘em!”

“I’m actually here at the President’s request,” Eunji presses on, ignoring the boom of Joy’s laughter to carry out her task at hand. “Irene’s birthday is coming up, and I was asked to take you to Seoul.”

“What, like, to surprise Irene?” Wendy presses further.

“Yes. But only if it’s okay with you,” she answers truthfully. “If you’re not comfortable, that’s fine. We will never force you into anything.”

Seulgi is silent, but her heart is pounding in her ears, so loud that she has to scan the room surreptitiously out of the fear that someone else can hear.

She swallows her heart down that’s been trying to climb up in throat, then, asks almost in a whisper. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” Eunji answers without any hesitation. “Of course you can.”

“How much time do I have?”

“I’ll be here for three days. Please take that time to decide.”

...

 

Bae Joo Hyun, her brain whispers to her that night she lays on her bed.

She was in the papers and magazines a year after the President was elected for his term. Seulgi vaguely remembers reading a TIME magazine cover that featured the First family on a flight back to Incheon.

Until she wasn’t, and the media had moved on into newer things. It was like she dropped off of the face of the earth.

Seulgi is sure that there is an explanation; what she isn’t is if she’s prepared to find out, or for any of this, at all.

...

 

The morning greets them with a certain kind of mood, or rather, Seulgi faces the morning with the most conflicted feelings.

It’s the quietest breakfast they’ve ever had, mostly composed of Seulgi pushing her eggs around while Wendy and Joy look at her with utmost concern.

“Do you think I should do it?” She finally asks, when the silence, and the scrape of silverware against porcelain gets too much.

For the first time since everything, Joy doesn't have anything to say. So she throws a pleading look across the table, asking for Wendy’s help.

Wendy nods once, then, starts. “I think, deep down, you already know what you want to do.”

Seulgi brings her head up to meet Wendy’s eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Wendy smiles, not unkind nor teasing. “You wouldn't be looking for her all this time if you didn't.”

Seulgi closes her eyes, thinks about Irene's smile.

The fact that the mere memory shoots a warmth down to her spine doesn't change, President’s daughter or not.

Seulgi reaches for her phone and taps on speed dial 8, while Wendy picks hers up and fires a message.

“Wheein-ah, I need a favor.”

Please tell the Blue House chef that I’m allergic to shrimps. Definitely should be off the menu.

...

 

“The President’s daughter,” Wendy murmurs as she stares in awe, eyes roaming all over the front porch of the Blue House. “Who would have known?”

Joy grunts her agreement, scowls, and then bemoans. “How are your lives like movies and mine isn’t?”

“I suggest we all move along,” Yeri speaks, probably for the first time since they’ve driven out of Ansan. Seulgi honestly almost forgot she’s with them. “Before your friend here starts throwing a tantrum.”

“Hey!” Joy throws back, but couldn’t really manage to be mad at the slight because it was up to her sass standards.

(And, no, the way the corner of Yeri’s mouth is upturned to a smirk has got nothing to do with it at all.)

Joy tears her eyes away from Yeri, clears as an attempt to nurse her pride back. Then, asks, “So what do you say, unnie? Are you ready to meet the President’s eldest daughter?”

“She’s Irene, Wendy,” Seulgi answers with a soft yet earnest smile. “She’s just Irene to me.”

...

 

By the Blue House backyard, on an overcast day, this is when she sees Irene again.

She's sprawled all over the grass, right hand buried on the patch of white fur that runs from a black Schnauzer’s chest down to its belly.

It's lying on its back, and from her spot, Seulgi can see its tongue lolling out as Irene continues to scratch and coo.

(As if Seulgi needed one more reason to be enamored.)

Seulgi finds her feet growing a mind of their own as they uproot themselves off the ground, and take quiet steps towards Irene.

Her knees buckle just as she reaches the empty spot right next to the woman, plopping beside her.

Her voice finds its own accord. “I heard it's your birthday.”

Her lips draw courage from Irene's stunned face, shaping into a shy smile at Irene's breathless “Seulgi.”

“Hey,” Seulgi husks in turn, “So we meet again, huh?”

Irene only sighs out jagged breaths, her chin quivering and her chest shaking as she expels air.

It genuinely feels like an eternity has passed, but Seulgi visibly exhales relief when she hears Irene faintly murmur, “You’re here,” as if she’s trying to convince herself that this vision of Seulgi sitting in front of her is real.

And then, Irene smiles, and Seulgi feels her world right itself all at once.