November

It’s three hours into November 1st and you’re sitting on the bathroom counter with Solar and Moonbyul, having graciously agreed to help them clean up their Halloween get-up. While others might consider it a chore, you find it endlessly entertaining, swiping at a portion of Solar’s face paint, only for it to disappear on Moonbyul’s face as well— they’d been matching cats this year.

(You’re honestly still a bit hazy with the whole “it appears on your skin as well as your soulmate’s” thing, because while face paint manages to translate through, makeup does not. And then you suppose that Moonbyul is grateful, given how she’s not the biggest fan of makeup.

You also know that concealer can actually cover up soulmate drawings, and that’s where your head starts to hurt the more you think about it, so you take everything for what it is with a grain of salt.)

“So you two look like you had fun at the Halloween dance,” you comment, expertly removing a part of Solar’s whiskers. A foot away, Moonbyul grins, watching her whiskers disappear like magic in the bathroom mirror.

“It was so much fun, Rene!” Solar gushes to you, and you smile at your best friend. “You should’ve come! People were looking for you, y’know? There was someone who wanted to dance with you... um...”

You raise an eyebrow, waiting expectantly. You giggle when Solar huffs and smacks her girlfriend’s arm to get her attention.

“Byul, it was someone in your grade, right? Who wanted to dance with Irene?”

“Yup,” Moonbyul nods. She picks up her phone, unlocking it and scrolling through her messages. “You know Sunmi, right? She was bummed when you didn’t show up.”

“That girl,” you click your tongue apprehensively and shake your head with a small smile playing in your lips. “Just because she hasn’t met her soulmate and rarely talks to them doesn’t mean that she doesn’t have one.”

“She’s the one in denial, right?” Solar inquires, and Moonbyul shrugs.

“I mean, that’s one way to put it, yeah. Sunmi’s a bit of an interesting one, always looking deep into things— ah,” The basketball player quickly backtracks, raising her hands in defense of herself, chancing a glance at the amused look on your face. “Not that doing a bit of questioning is a bad thing. I think it’s cool how she’s sort of challenging fate— not that I’d ever want to break up, Yongsun— I’m just going to stop talking now.” 

Solar rolls her eyes playfully, choosing to simply pat Moonbyul’s shoulder as the younger girl buries her face into the crook of Solar’s neck.

“I don’t think she realizes that she does have a choice,” you say, putting down the makeup wipe and heading over to the sink to wash your hands. You push up your sleeves and allow the warm water to rush over your pale hands. “Maybe you don’t choose who your soulmate is, but you choose what kind of relationship to have with them. There are plenty of people who choose to be completely platonic friends with their soulmate.”

You shut the water off, feeling two pairs of eyes watching your every move attentively. Perhaps that’s partially why you’re such good friends with Solar and Moonbyul— they’re more than willing to listen to the point of view of someone who hasn’t experienced the security of knowing your destined. 

“And even then, you can choose to marry someone else,” you continue, drying your hands on a nearby towel. “It’s not a requirement for your spouse to be your soulmate, but then again, the outcome of that marriage isn’t guaranteed to last.”

Solar makes a noise of agreement when you finally turn around to face them. Moonbyul has her arm around Solar’s shoulders, rubbing circles into the sun and moon tattoo that they’d gotten together after a year of dating.

The three of you are silent for a minute before you hear the door to the bathroom open, and two pairs of hasty footsteps rush into the room.

Your immediately straighten up at the sight of Seulgi ushering her roommate into the bathroom. Wendy’s cheeks are red, her eyes dilated and her chest heaving.

“Is everything okay?” You ask worriedly, and you move in to rub Wendy’s shoulders. Meanwhile, Moonbyul takes a paper towel and runs it under the cool water, passing it off to her girlfriend, who presses it onto Wendy’s forehead.

“I didn’t think you were attending the dance,” you say to Seulgi without turning to her, too focused on calming her roommate down.

“I didn’t, and neither did Wendy, but then the design appeared on her skin, and I just so happened to be checking Instagram, and—” Seulgi cuts herself off hurriedly, and it takes you a moment to realize that Seulgi is smiling, grinning.

“I just found my soulmate,” Wendy says breathlessly, and your eyes widen. You take in the extravagantly designed pattern of stars dotting the side of Wendy’s face, and you reach out to brush against it. It doesn’t smudge— it’s stuck. “We’d never told our names to each other before, but now—”

“Guys,” Moonbyul says, catching your attention. She walks up to you, her phone unlocked and opened to Instagram. You’re greeted with the sight of a familiar looking brunette from Solar’s acapella group, the same starry design in the same location. She’s beaming with her friends, a paper cup of punch in her hand, and you briefly read the caption: I wanted a pretty design for my pretty soulmate, whoever you are, wherever you are. You’re beautiful.

“I’m recruiting you into our acapella group,” Solar says decidedly, and Wendy’s eyes bulge out like a frog’s. “I don’t care if you’re not even good. You’re coming.”

Seulgi squeaks happily when her friend nods dumbly, not questioning anything.

You and Moonbyul chance a look at each other, and ten seconds later, the bathroom is full of squealing, the high-pitched noises echoing and bouncing off of the tiled walls.

~

“How’s your freshman year going so far?” You ask Seulgi three days later, as the two of you walk over the brick pathways across the school’s ground late in the afternoon. You’d opted to return back with her after dance practice (Seulgi had aced the audition— not that you hadn’t expected anything less).

You have to give the younger girl credit— the poor thing has to dedicate time to both the basketball team and the dance team, and no matter how much Seulgi insists that she’s more than willing to do both, you can’t help but feel bad that she has such little free time.

“It’s going great,” Seulgi replies enthusiastically, and you chuckle before bringing up her lack of time for herself.

“That doesn’t matter much to me, Irene,” she says nonchalantly, and you shoot a questioning look her way, asking are you crazy? “I get to spend more time with you this way.”

“Well, aren’t you a flatterer?” You laugh, shoving Seulgi playfully, and she groans, dramatically slipping off the walkway and falling down onto the grass. You roll your eyes before joining her, sitting yourself down next to where she’s sprawled out like a starfish.

“I didn’t know you were that weak,” you , and she shakes her head insistently.

“I’m a as weak as a piece of paper, Rene,” she says, and you try not to swoon at the nickname.

(You try not to swoon, so it takes you to new heights instead. You picture yourself rising above the school buildings, soaring strong like a falcon, flying in all directions like a hummingbird. You think that you can write poetry all about this feeling.)

Not good.

“You’re quite a durable piece of paper,” you say, poking at her clothed bicep with your index finger, briefly feeling the taut muscle beneath Seulgi’s shirt. She lets out the softest of noises or protest, quickly swatting at your incessant poking. “And quite the violent one too! I might get a paper cut.”

“Mmm,” she hums, rolling to one side and teasingly jabbing at the side of your stomach, and you giggle. “Yeah, I don’t think this piece of paper wants to see you bleed. You’re too pretty.”

“What a nice piece of paper,” you coo before threading your fingers with hers and tugging for her to get up. “For some paper, you’re kinda heavy!”

“Take that back,” she whines, but relents, allowing you to pull her to her feet.

“The only ‘back’ I want is to get back to our dorm,” you say, and she grins at you cheekily. She sticks her tongue out at you, and you snort but do the same back at her.

You end up half-dragging her back to the dorm rooms, not letting go of her hand the entire way. She doesn’t complain, only grips your palm tighter, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing.

It almost feels like you’re flying.

Not good.

~

You realize that you’re doomed the moment she knocks on your door, late one Wednesday night, a Calculus textbook and utter desperation on her face. She’s been telling you about the big unit test for the past five days now, be her luck.

“Irene,” Seulgi says, her hoarse voice pleading, just a quick second away from cracking. You hear it like the sound of broken glass, grating against your ears as it shatters beneath Seulgi’s weight. You think about how you never want to hear her sound like that again. “Irene, I know it’s late and we both have class tomorrow, but I- I—”

She sniffs, hiccuping, and you immediately reach out to her. Pulling her in for a hug, you rub circles into her back comfortingly, feeling her irregular breathing beneath your flattened palm.

“Deep breaths, Seul,” you soothe, and she shudders, inhaling and exhaling at the same pace as you. You resume rubbing circles. “I’ll help you, Seulgi, don’t worry. We still have a few hours, I can teach you what you don’t know.”

“There’s so much,” she hiccups, but you shush her again. Touching her cheek lightly with one finger, you usher her into your room, leading her to sit on the bed.

From where she’s seated at her desk, LE turns around to gaze at the two of you interestingly, pulling out an earphone and setting her pen down onto her notebook.

You apologize immediately.

“I’m sorry, Hyojin,” you say, a hint of guilt creeping into your tone. You reach out to grab Seulgi’s hand, finding it and giving it a quick squeeze. “Seulgi’s struggling with calculus, and I offered to help her, and—”

“Say no more.” Your roommate of three years raises a hand, an understanding smile on her face. “I hated that class to the core of my being. You remember, right, Joohyun? I did so incredibly awful!” 

You chuckle as memories of pulling all-nighters with LE return to the surface. That had been back before you’d been known as Irene, back before you’d gained that nickname. And even back before your roommate had been rap enthusiast and closeted-poet LE. Back then, you’d been Joohyun, and she’d been Hyojin, and you’d both been struggling freshman just trying to make it.

“You’re in good hands, kid,” LE continues, getting up and shuffling over to her bookshelf. She gingerly plucks out a familiar blue binder from its contents before padding over to the red-eyed, teary Seulgi. You smile as LE extends the binder out to the freshman.

“Here. Seulgi, right? You’re lucky that you’ve made a friend out of Joohyun. She’s really good at math and, well, virtually every subject known to man,” you snort and throw a pillow LE’s way. She ducks and continues like nothing ever happened. “Anyways, this is a binder of the notes I took when Joohyun helped me study for our tests. They might just help you and save you an all-nighter.”

You glance over Seulgi’s shoulder as she opens up the binder to find full page after full page of meticulously taken calculus notes. You recognize LE’s neat handwriting filling the space, recalling how your roommate would always jot down your extra tips and tricks in red pen as you explained concepts to her. Yes, this would definitely save a lot of time.

“LE-sunbaenim,” Seulgi breathes, bottom lip quivering, and you giggle quietly at how grateful she sounds. “Thank you so much!”

LE laughs, reaching over to ruffle Seulgi’s hair. “No problem, kid. Do you guys want some coffee?”

You get off of your bed with a start. “Hyojin, you don’t have to. Aren’t you busy?”

“Nope. Luckily for you guys, I just finished.” Your roommate shakes her head, giving you her signature lazy shrug, that smirk you’ve gotten all too used to playing on her lips. “The only thing I was planning on doing now was writing a few messages to Solji before I go to bed, but that can wait. So, coffee?”

Ah, that’s right. Sometimes it’s hard to picture LE with a soulmate, given how independent you know that she is. You’ve never met Solj, just seen pictures of her, and you’ve heard a few snippets of their phone calls, and she and LE are so wonderfully happy, so you never question anything.

Sometimes, you want to scream to the world about how thankful you are for you utterly amazing roommate.

“That would be great,” you say finally, shooting LE a smile.

“Nice! I know you like yours black and bitter, you crazy woman,” she jokes, and there goes your second pillow, flung to the other side of your shared room. “What about you, Seulgi?”

“I like mine light and sweet,” Seulgi chirps, expressing her gratefulness yet again.

And when you hear LE muttering something that sounds suspiciously like even their coffee tastes match up... they’re actually perfect for each other, you pretend not to hear her.

(It’s easier this way.)