They say that there are always two entities around you, at all times.

 

Life and Death.

 

Life dislikes Death, is wary of Death.

 

Death, however, loves Life.

 

One day, Life asks Death, “Why do people love me, but hate you?”

 

Death responds with tender words and soft eyes, “Because you are a beautiful lie, and I am a painful truth.”

 

Eventually, as time passes, Life begins to find the good in Death, and in consequence, begins to fall in love with Death.

 

And once Life falls in love, they say that that is when you die, when Life submits to Death and Death consumes it into its loving embrace.

 

~~

 

Seulgi watches the child with love in her eyes, reaching out a tender hand, and gently caressing his beautiful face.

 

The child lets out a squeal of glee, laughing, and Seulgi steps back, watching the mother and father of the child go to him, happiness in their eyes that she thinks they’d rightfully earned.

 

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

 

Seulgi turns to see Irene, black cloak around her slim shoulders, hair the color of night sky, and fiery red eyes staring at her with deep melancholy behind a bone-white mask resembling a skull that sends shivers down the length of her spine.

 

“He is,” Seulgi says, caution tugging at every word that escapes her lips.

 

“You’re beautiful, too,” Irene says, her words no louder than the soft whispers of promised death.

 

She only nods.

 

~

 

A few years pass, and Seulgi’s sitting in the sunlight atop emerald green grass, watching the little boy she’s been entrusted with, eyes b with love and affection.

 

“He’s growing up to be strong.”

 

Seulgi turns to see Irene standing in the shadows of the canopy of trees, watching the boy with those red, red eyes.

 

“I know. Because I’ve stayed strong.”

 

Irene looks at her, and Seulgi sees a deep sadness, a sort of lostness pooled in the inferno depths of her gaze, and it almost hurts.

 

“Yes. Of course.”

 

It falls silent, and Seulgi returns her attention back to the little boy, only to feel a nagging sensation in the back of her mind. She turns back again, meeting Irene’s pools of fire with her own gentle orbs of emerald and sapphire.  

 

“Why do you have that mask on all the time?”

 

Irene stays silent for a few moments before she turns to Seulgi, her eyes speaking volumes of words that she can’t seem to decipher.

 

There’s no hint of doubt in Irene’s voice though she doesn’t look at Seulgi.

 

“So you won’t fall in love with me.”

 

~

 

Seulgi watches on in silence, tears cascading down her face as she watches the now fifteen year old boy kneeling at his father’s grave, the look of utter torment on his face.

 

“Love is a powerful entity. It can control even Life and Death at will.”

 

“What does love have to do with any of this? It's your kind’s fault that things like this happen,” Seulgi says, turning to Irene with eyes full of pain.

 

Seulgi's surprised to see that Irene's turned away from her and from the boy and his mother, clearly upset in the way the line of her back stands rigid, her shoulders tense.

 

“Yes. I suppose it is Death's fault. You are right. We only give pain and torment.”

 

There's infinite pain in Irene's voice, deep with the same sorrow that Seulgi’s learned to pair with the reaper, and a kind of resignation that Seulgi’s only ever heard in the humans lucky enough to have lived long lives.

 

It’s then that Seulgi realizes her bluntness of words.

 

“Wait. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that.”

 

She cautiously walks toward Irene, reaching out, when Irene abruptly whirls around, eyes wide as she stumbles backwards, away from Seulgi.

 

“D-Don't touch me!”

 

Irene has one deathly pale hand up, as if warding Seulgi away, and that's when Seulgi catches the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

 

Realization hits her like a bullet, and guilt washes over her, urging her forward.

 

“You're hurting too. I didn't know. I'm sorry. I really am.” Seulgi takes another step forward towards Irene, only to have her stumble back again.

 

“Stay away from me. I'm a monster. Stay away.”

 

Irene’s voice is soft, weak, so unlike the calm and steady entity that Seulgi had been partnered with for the past fifteen years.

 

Seulgi feels a pang of heartache in her chest as she watches Irene back away, cowering away from her.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that. You're not a monster. It's okay. It's Death's job to do these things. I understand.”

 

Seulgi advances towards Irene with more confidence this time, and with a swift hand, she captures Irene's wrist. Her skin has no warmth to it, and her wrist seems to be barely there, almost as if she were a skeleton.

 

Irene doesn't look at her, only avoiding her gaze, and Seulgi can't tell what she's feeling because of the mask of death encompassing her face.

 

“Let go. You can't - shouldn't touch me. It's dangerous. I'm dangerous.”

 

Disgust and self loathing sink deep into Irene’s tone as she weakly tries to pull away from Seulgi’s grip.

 

“You haven’t ever done anything to hurt me,” Seulgi says, brows furrowing as she realizes how true her statement is.

 

The truth is, Seulgi’s never seen Irene remotely close to trying to harm someone, nevermind kill someone, and it confuses her because all her life, she’d been brought up to believe that grim reapers were all bloodthirsty, malicious killers.

 

“I - I have the capability to. I do not want to hurt you or the boy. Please.”

 

Irene’s voice is as soft as the rustle of leaves, her gaze as timid as the child’s, and Seulgi lets go, biting her lip when she sees striking red against paper pale skin.

 

The marred skin quickly disappears underneath Irene’s cloak of dark, dark chocolate, before she backs away from Seulgi, though not too far.

 

And so quietly, that Seulgi can’t hear, Irene whispers, “Do not fall in love with me.”

 

~

 

Fifteen more years pass, and Seulgi watches the boy - he will forever be a little boy to her - as he speaks with his significant other.

 

A smile pulls against her lips, and it’s at times like these that she wonders what it feels like to fall in love.  

 

Her eyes gradually shift to the ever-silent entity who’s standing in the corner of the rather cozy cafe that they’re in, and for some reason, unknown to her, she calls out.

 

“Irene.”

 

Irene’s response is automatic, her head jerking up to look at her.

 

Seulgi can barely make out curious eyes underneath the mask of death. She only then realizes that throughout the twenty-five years that she’d known the grim reaper, she’d never seen her face.

 

Seulgi makes her way over to the grim reaper, settling to stand beside her.

 

Seulgi’s not even touching her, yet she can feel cold emanating from the entity standing silently beside her. Irene doesn’t move nor talk, and Seulgi feels the overwhelming urge to fill in the gap of silence between them.

 

“How are you?”

 

It’s the most idiotic question she’s sure she has ever asked, and Seulgi wishes she’d never opened in the first place.

 

“Tired.”

 

Seulgi startles. She hadn’t expected an answer from the grim reaper, and she especially hadn’t expected an answer like that.

 

“What?”

 

“Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

 

Seulgi frowns, but lets her be, leaning delicately against the display of china, content with watching the happiness in her child’s eyes.

 

Her thoughts begin to drift towards Irene and she glances towards her, scanning the dark robes and the contrastingly white mask and wonders what lies beneath the surface. Before she can process what she’s doing, she finds herself standing in front of the servant of Death, staring deep into eyes created from Hell’s flames, opened wide in blatant surprise.

 

“W-What are you doing?”

 

Seulgi ignores the frightened tone of Irene’s voice and reaches up to touch the mask, to feel it under her fingers, to allow the icy surface to freeze her skin and seep into her bones - it’s almost addictive. It’s cold and hard and smooth and it reminds her of the reaper’s skin, though she remembers her skin to have been softer.

 

When her eyes flit upwards to catch Irene’s gaze once more, she feels the urge to pull away the mask.

 

It’s been long enough, she thinks. It’s been twenty-five years, and although that time span is as good as nothing to them, it’s long enough.

 

“Don’t,” Irene whispers, “please.”

 

The plea is weak, and there’s something in her eyes that spurs her forward.

 

Seulgi gently slides her fingers towards the edges of the mask, feeling her fingertips hook underneath what she now realizes is porcelain, feeling the contrast of the reaper’s skin beneath it.

 

“He’s leaving.”

 

Irene’s slipping from her grasp, leaving behind nothing but the scent of lilies and the lingering cold at the tips of her fingers.

 

~

 

Irene never sleeps.

 

Seulgi knows because she wakes up at intervals in the night to check on the boy, only to find the reaper leaning against the corner of a wall nearby, like a silent sentry doing what needs to be done, fulfilling the duties she’d been given.

 

At these times of night, Irene looks to be nothing but a white mask, floating in midair like an ill-suited spaceship.

 

Seulgi remembers having been frightened of the eerie sight in the beginning of their assignment, though over time, she’d come to find comfort in the presence of the vigilant reaper. Comfort in Death. She never would have imagined it possible.

 

“Irene?”

 

There’s movement and Seulgi attempts not to flinch when the masked face swivels towards her (it still has an effect of making her uncomfortable despite the fact that she’s become accustomed to its minute details) and softly pats the couch, signaling the reaper to sit with her.

 

She notices the hesitance in Irene’s movements as she gradually makes her way towards her, steps utterly silent, not even the rustle of her cloak breaking the muted quiet of the night.

 

Irene stands a safe distance from her, close enough to be heard, but far enough so that walking away would be an easily viable option.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Sit down? Please?” Seulgi implores, blinking into red eyes that seem to glow in the darkness of the room.

 

There’s no acknowledgement of Seulgi’s request, but then she catches a soft sigh from the depths of the hood and behind the encasing mask, and she shifts to make room for the reaper who takes a seat, albeit at the very edge of the couch.

 

“Is there a reason for this?”

 

Seulgi frowns. “It’s been thirty years. Don’t you think it’s past due time to at least talk?”

 

It’s ridiculous, if anything, now that Seulgi thinks about it, not having had a proper conversation in the time it would take to live half of a human life.

 

“We are not supposed to speak to one another.”

 

“Then can I ask you a question?”

 

Irene makes a small noise of consent.

 

“Why do people love me, but hate you?”

 

It’s an obvious answer to a cruel question, but Seulgi wants to hear what Irene has to say, what she feels.

 

She finds herself gasping when cold fingers touch her cheek, so cold that it feels as if her skin might boil beneath them, and her own hand flies up to cover the reaper’s, feeling as if she’d forgotten how to breathe.

 

The red eyes that Seulgi knows will be forever etched into her mind burn into her own, hot and passionate and so different from how cold the reaper’s finger are, and she finds herself searching for something in her gaze.

 

“Because,” she breathes, “you are a beautiful lie and I am a painful truth.”

 

Her words, softly spoken as if to lessen the impact, hurts more than she’d expected it to, and Seulgi finds her hands reaching to push back the hood that hides away raven hair before descending to pull away the mask.

 

There’s no resistance this time, and Seulgi watches the way Irene closes her sorrowful eyes in silent acceptance.

 

It’s all it takes for her to finally whisk away the mask.

 

A gasp escapes her before she can so much as attempt to conceal it, stunned in place as if time had frozen, refusing to move forward.

 

Irene is beautiful in a way that words can’t describe, breathtaking and ethereal, long lashes fluttering to reveal her eyes that contrast against pale skin, yet match the vibrant color of her lips.

 

The slope of her nose, her cheekbones, the lines of her jaw are all epitomes of perfection that Seulgi wouldn’t have been able to imagine if she’d tried - and she’d imagined what she’d look like hundred of thousands of times in her mind.

 

“You’re beautiful,” Seulgi finally manages to say.

 

Irene shakes her head. “You don’t understand. You cannot see me like this. You can’t.”

 

Seulgi gently places what she now recognizes as a mask created from porcelain beside her, the ugly exterior that had been hiding the beauty within.

 

She reaches up carefully, slowly as to not frighten the reaper, to cup Irene’s cold cheek, hearing a sound bordering on a sob that she releases that sounds too real, too raw for Seulgi not to feel a squeeze in her heart.

 

Seulgi can’t help but wonder what the Irene had been through, why she stubbornly keeps on the grotesque mask to hide her features, why she covers herself as if to hide from the world, as if she’s ashamed of the being that she is.

 

She’s never had to be ashamed of who she is, being a protector of Life, the one to sustain the beauty that Life brings to the world.

 

“I want to see you. For who you are. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for never trying to understand. For hating you when I don’t even understand why.”

 

Irene looks away, but doesn’t pull away from her touch.

 

“It’s better that way. To hate me,” she says.

 

Seulgi doesn’t like how the word ‘hate’ forms on Irene’s lips like it belongs there, she won’t stand for it.

 

“I don’t hate you. And I won’t. Not now, not in the future.”

 

She hugs her and Irene sinks into her embrace as if it’s the only thing that has the power to support her.

 

Seulgi smiles.

 

~

 

Seulgi begins to catch little things of Irene that tug at her heartstrings.

 

It hadn’t taken much coaxing for Irene to agree to stow away her mask, finding the lack of need to keep it on when Seulgi knows what lies beneath.

 

The agreement turns out to be a blessing because Irene is full of various expression that Seulgi would never have thought possible coming from the seemingly stoic reaper.

 

Seulgi finds herself sneaking glances at her on intervals that Irene never seems to catch, studying the way her left brow jerks upwards on its own when she discovers something interesting, or the way the corners of her lips tilt upwards so slightly she almost misses it.

 

And as the years go by, she realizes that she something had developed in the recesses of her heart, something that beats when the reaper touches her on accident or makes eye contact with her for a split second too long.

 

It’s something that wells up affection and fondness that only grows stronger when they watch the boy get married with the love of his life and Seulgi catches the single tear that falls down her pale cheek, watching as she sniffs and wipes it away as if angry at the display of emotion.

 

Seulgi simply smiles gently at the reaper when she looks to her with embarrassment written on her face and allows her privacy by turning her attention away to watch the progression of the wedding.

 

The emotion clicks into place when the boy’s first child is born and Irene looks down at the baby with blatant wonder and amazement despite clearly taking care to maintain her distance.

 

Seulgi takes her hand without a word and tugs her forward so she stands above the newborn child, ignoring Irene’s frantic muttering that she couldn’t decipher if she tried.

 

“You’re not going to hurt her by being near her.”

 

Irene relaxes in her grip. “ . . . Right.”

 

Seulgi knows it’s wrong to feel this way, but she knows, it’s far too late to go back.

 

~

 

By the time Irene had first met Seulgi, she’d already made her decision:

 

Not her.

 

Seulgi was everything she wasn’t, everything she wanted to be, everything she desired to have, and everything Irene knew she’d ever need.

 

Seulgi was beautiful - is beautiful. Golden hair of silk cascading down her shoulders in intricate waves, blue-green eyes glimmering with life, skin that’s been kissed by the sun, and the aura of gentleness that never leaves her side.

 

That was why she needed to make sure that she wouldn’t emerge victorious, not this time, not when Seulgi was her adversary, not when she couldn’t even bear the thought of her hurting her.

 

The look in Seulgi’s beautiful eyes that resembled the sky and the ocean and the infinite expanse of emerald green fields of grass all at once had left Irene speechless, and she remembers looking down at the child and feeling nothing but emptiness at the knowledge that she wasn’t allowed to enjoy his happiness.

 

She had already felt it happening then, the rotting beneath her skin, the burning pain of hellfire beginning its growth at the spot where a heart should have been, that would eventually consume her if she failed to tempt Seulgi into false love.

 

Let it rot. It’s no less than I deserve.

 

The mask hid the single tear that slid down her cheek, the only evidence of her sorrow that would disappear without a trace.

 

She didn’t want this existence anymore.

 

She’d make it stop.

 

~

 

When Seulgi falls to her knees, Irene knows that the boy is in danger.

 

He’s not a boy anymore having reached his late forties, but nevertheless in Irene’s eyes, he will always be nothing but a boy.

 

Seulgi’s strangled cry pierces her ears and she’s by her side in a single instant, frantic in her haste to do something, anything to stop the possibility of Death that would be her responsibility without it being her doing.

 

“Seulgi? Seulgi, stay with me,” Irene says, grasping onto her trembling frame, “It is not his time. You know it isn’t.”

 

Tears track their way down her cheeks and at that moment Irene thinks she would do anything to make her pain stop, to stop her suffering, because Seulgi doesn’t deserve it.

 

They’re existences tethered to the boy’s they’re transported into an emergency room, Irene’s arm protectively maintaining its embrace in desperation and fear that all of her work, her restraint of her love for Seulgi, might be for naught.

 

She catches fragments of words that tell her that the boy had been in a car accident before Seulgi releases another cry of pain and Irene crushes her into her body, knowing that this is the best she can do, wincing when Seulgi bites into her shoulder and her nails dig into her skin, clawing at what Irene can only imagine to be unbearable pain.

 

It goes on for what feels like an eternity before Seulgi’s body slumps into her, heaving in strained breaths that Irene attempts to console by her back.

 

Seulgi sobs and Irene feels her pain as if it’s her own.

 

“It is okay. It is over now. You are okay.”

 

Abruptly, Seulgi jerks herself out of her arms and before Irene has the chance to feel hurt, she stumbles towards the boy much like a drunkard would after a long night of indulging himself, and Irene silently follows in her footsteps.

 

Seulgi gasps in relief, Irene watching the way her eyes linger on the heart monitor that beeps steadily as it should, the green wavelengths measuring the boy’s life.

 

Soon after, the boy is transferred to a hospital ward, his wife entering the room in a frenzy that could match Seulgi’s, and Irene can’t help but feel out of place in a room that spills with an emotion that she can’t seem to relate to except when it comes to Seulgi.

 

She feels a grim smile tug at the corners of her lips and she turns away to retreat outside of the room, to at least be far enough so she won’t have to feel as if she’d stepped onto holy ground that shouldn’t be trod on, but a warm hand circles her wrist, still weak and slightly trembling that could only be Seulgi’s.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Seulgi’s every touch never fails to ease the now dull throb that had only been growing, and she knows that if she takes off her cloak, she’ll see black veins stretching out in tendrils to wrap around her skin, a vast expanse of rotting flesh.

 

Only Seulgi’s voluntary touch could make the pain go away, if only for a moment.

 

She refuses to turn in fear of what she might see, afraid that she won’t be strong enough to fight the endless attraction she feels towards Seulgi.

 

“I did not do anything.”

 

The grip around her wrist tightens almost imperceptibly. “You do know that you’re the reason why he’s still alive. You helped me. I . . . I don’t think I would have been able to make it without you.”

 

Irene stills and she knows Seulgi’s picked up on her hesitance because she turns her around gently, as if she’s as fragile as the mask she’d put away after Seulgi had coaxed her out from behind the porcelain piece.

 

Seulgi’s so beautiful it hurts, even when her blonde locks are mussed and there are still remnants of tears glistening on her lashes and down her cheeks like tiny crystals, as if even her pain is beautiful.

 

“So stay. You have the right to.”

 

Irene doesn’t have the strength to say no. She’s never had the strength.

 

Not with Seulgi.

 

~

 

Time is running out.

 

The boy is in his eighties and he has children and grandchildren who make him smile and makes him happy.

 

Irene turns to a black scarf to hide her neck, the rotting flesh, the deadly tendrils of darkness having begun to wrap around the pale skin of as if to choke her, and although the pain is becoming stronger by the year, she holds on.

 

Seulgi only seems to become brighter by the day and Irene finds solace in watching her happiness, nursing the pain in her body that never fades to stay strong.

 

She refrains from talking much anymore in fear that her pain might peek out from the trembling of her voice and the breathiness of her tone, because she knows if Seulgi finds out it could be the end for the both of them.

 

Her weakness angers her, the way her body seems to be failing on her even when she has the capability of immortality, but she doesn’t allow that anger to fester into spite.

 

She doesn’t have the strength for it anyway.

 

~

 

A few more years pass and Irene finds herself having to pick up the mask she had discarded once more.

 

The tendrils of black have crawled up her jaw and has begun its ascent to her chin, her cheeks, forehead, and eventually, she knows, they would take her eyes.

 

She places the mask over her features without a word, and although Seulgi is upset with her, Irene is adamant in doing what she knows she must do.

 

She hopes that one day Seulgi will understand.

 

~

 

The boy reaches his final days at the age of ninety-five.

 

They watch as his body prepares to submit to the hands of death, and Seulgi seems sad, but not angry. She doesn’t leave his side and she weeps when the boy’s wife weeps and stays silent for the remainder of those days, not saying a word.

 

On his final day, Seulgi moves to her side and leans against her shoulder and Irene finds herself collapsing under her as if Seulgi had dealt her a blow and not offered her a show of affection.

 

She hears the shatter of the mask that she only then realizes had fallen off in her sudden inability to make use of her legs, and she desperately lowers her head so her hair shrouds the evidence of her pain.

 

“Irene! Are you okay?!”

 

“I am fine.”

 

Irene knows she isn’t, knows that Seulgi knows she isn’t, but can’t think straight because her head is spinning and the floor looks like it’s about to swallow her up.

 

Somehow, she finds herself being propped up and then all she can see is Seulgi’s beautiful, beautiful face. She’s so beautiful and Irene knows she’s reached her limit, so she doesn’t hold back when her fingers urge her to reach out and caress the being she has loved for ninety-five years.

 

“Y-Your face. Why - What is that? Why is this happening?” Seulgi says frantically.

 

Irene attempts to smile, knowing that it’s weak.

 

Afterall, smiling is a foreign action to her, she hasn’t had much to smile for, and even as she feels her existence ebbing away like the ocean’s tide tends to do, she feels peace.

 

But then, if she is at peace, why can she taste salt on her lips and wetness on her cheeks?

 

“Did you know? I knew I loved you the moment I met you? You were so beautiful, Seulgi. You were so bright and beautiful and I knew I didn’t deserve your love.”

 

“What?”

 

“Did you know? I was rotting the moment we met, from here,” she points at the empty cavity of her chest, “and out. If a reaper doesn’t seduce the Life we are paired with, we cease to exist. You didn’t know that, did you?” she said. “But I was willing to. I can’t live with myself anymore. I do not want to take lives, I do not want false love just for selfish reasons at the cost of a life. I could before because I never felt love, but you made me feel it and I could not bear the thought of hurting you.”

 

The words spill from her lips as if a dam had been broken, and the tears fail to cease, pouring as if there is no limit, and Irene realizes that she really is dying - ceasing to exist.

 

Seulgi looks as if she’s been struck by lightning, her beautiful eyes searching her face in an attempt to discover the lie that isn’t there, and when it seems she’s come to terms with Irene’s words, she begins to cry.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me! You should have told me!” she yells, holding Irene tightly in her arms as if that would somehow stop the inevitable.

 

“You would have tried to stop this somehow. I could not allow that.”

 

“You idiot!”

 

Lines of black begin to creep into her vision and Irene feels fear grip her in its cold, unrelenting grasp and she reaches out to clutch at Seulgi’s dress in hopes that it would alleviate some of the fear.

 

“I’m scared, Seulgi. Will you - Will you stay with me?”

 

There’s something dangerous in Seulgi’s eyes that Irene can only see brief glimpses of, but she can do nothing but cling on.

 

Seulgi’s voice is calm. “Were you in pain?”

 

“ . . . Yes.”

 

“The entire time.”

 

“Yes.”

 

There’s silence that scares her more than the black that is filling her vision so it’s as if she’s peeking through blinds, but she thinks she sees Seulgi turning back to take one last look at the boy before returning her attention back to her.

 

A hand cups her cheek and Irene shuts her eyes, waiting for her existence to fade away into nothing.

 

“I love you.”

 

Then, Seulgi’s kissing her, lips so soft they feel as if they aren’t there pressing into hers, and Irene attempts to push her away, her hands against her shoulders, but Seulgi doesn’t budge and only deepens the kiss.

 

The tendrils of black begin to recede from her vision and and Irene sobs into Seulgi’s lips because she’s too weak to stop this stupidity, and her body feels light and the pain is gone, and her chest feels full.

 

Everything fades to white.

 

~

 

“What do we do about those two?”

 

“What did they do?”

 

“They somehow equalized each other, some sort of balance. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

 

“What are their names?”

 

“Irene and Seulgi.”

 

“ . . . I believe rebirths are in order.”

 

~

 

“Unnie!”

 

Joohyun turns at the voice, smiling when she spots her younger sister running towards her and crosses her arms, tilting her head to the side as she waits for her to catch up.

 

“What do you want?” she asks in mock annoyance.

 

Jihae shoves her and Joohyun laughs, slinging her arm over her slim shoulders as they continue to walk, exiting the campus. The younger girl clings to her waist and looks up at Joohyun with eyes that resemble a forlorn puppy’s, and she knows exactly what her motive is.

 

“What do you want now, Jihae?”

 

“You know you’re the best Unnie ever, right?”

 

Joohyun rolls her eyes. “Just spit it out you sweet talker.”

 

Jihae grins, sticking out her tongue and says, “So, I have this friend and she’s really nice, like she’s super nice, and pretty, and she has like a massive crush on you, Unnie, and I may or may not have set you two up?”

 

Joohyun stops in her tracks, raises her brow and flicks the girl on the forehead.

 

“Forget about it.”

 

“Hey!”

 

~

 

Joohyun walks into the cafe with dread weighing her limbs.

 

She checks her watch for the fifth time in the past minute before scanning the room, looking for the table with the blue candle that Jihae had said she’d set up. She’s going to kill that girl one day.

 

She spots it in the corner of the cafe next to the windows, and feels her heart skip a beat when she notices that there’s a girl sitting at the table, back turned to her, but she’s never been one to back down from a challenge and so she starts forward and somehow makes it to the table without stumbling once.

 

The girl is wearing a white dress and her hair is a beautiful reddish brown that catches the rays of the sun, and when Joohyun eventually stops to stand in front of her, she feels an electric tingle run throughout her veins when she locks eyes.

 

She thinks she sees the girl shiver, though she can’t be sure, and a shy expression crosses her face that Joohyun can’t help but think is endearing.

 

“Hello, my name is Kang Seulgi,” the girl says, smiling softly and standing from her seat.

 

She smells like the sea and summer grass.

 

Irene clears and extends a hand.

 

“My name is Bae Joohyun. But you can call me Irene.”

 

She smiles the same time the girl does and when Seulgi’s hand touches hers, she thinks that she never wants to let go. There’s something familiar in her grip, in the way she talks, especially something about her eyes, and Irene breathes in.

 

“Have we met before?” Seulgi asks tentatively.

 

Irene almost laughs out loud, but she stifles it in time, narrowing her eyes.

 

And maybe it’s the trick of the light or a brief flash of her imagination, but she could have sworn Seulgi’s eyes looked almost blue-green in hue and her hair looked as golden as the sun, as if she were seeing a faded photograph beneath the new.

 

Seulgi gasps lightly then blinks furiously and Joohyun thinks that maybe, maybe there’s something really there.

 

“Perhaps we have.”