Seulgi books a flight to Toronto, scheduled for next year in the spring. It's seven months away, still, but she'd passed by a travel agency on her way back from dance class and there was a discount brochure flattened against the window. She could hardly resist.

"I've been doing really well in my English class recently." Her phone is sandwiched between her ear and shoulder, iron whirring in her right hand.

Seungwan's voice is low across the line, a little hard to hear against the wind outside. Seulgi presses her ear harder against her the receiver. She should remember to buy those noise-cancelling earbuds soon. "Really?" She laughs, and her voice is delighted, even if a little disbelieving. "And why is that?"

After all these years, Seulgi feels silly for the warmth that rushes into her cheeks at the thought of answering truthfully. The ends of her fingers, unwittingly, tremble. She has to put the iron down.

Still, she manages to get it out, a small sound that emerges despite her tongue tied clumsily in : you.

You.

-

Before, Seulgi had lived for a while in Japan. There was the luxury of anonymity there, the lack of inquiry into her life. She took hikes on Wednesdays and learned to cook on Thursdays. On Fridays, in the morning, she would paint. Her art professor in Kyushu University loved her portraits of a girl: sitting by the fireplace, running through a field, reading on a couch.

Before that, Taiwan; before that, Rome. Before Seungwan, before, before, before, and again.

Before all of that, between all of that, her heart in Seoul.

-

They first meet at a clothes store in Kyoto. Seungwan is seeking shelter from the storm that's broken out outside, and Seulgi is buying a dress for a dinner party she must attend later.

Seulgi can hear her awkward Japanese, the intonations jumbled up and swallowed in little gulps of air. Her fingers ache to reach out, but they spend their time looking at different things. Her head whirs with the possibilities. Seulgi fiddles with the latch on one of the bags, and stops when the assistant comes closer.

She's here for a dress. Right. A dress.

"Oh," Seungwan breathes, too loud that it echoes off the walls of the small shop, when Seulgi emerges from the changing room clad in a yellow dress. Seungwan has been thumbing at the dresses on the rack for a while, her purse sandwiched neatly between her long fingers, but with this exclamation she knocks two dresses off the rack and they fall to the floor noisily.

Then she turns her flushed face away bashfully, quickly, and kneels down immediately to retrieve the clothes, never mind the dirt on her knees or the assistant rushing over assuring her that it's fine.

And Seulgi watches it: the uptick of the corner of Seungwan's mouth, the wisps of hair falling across her face, the brightness of her sorry eyes, the way she keeps glancing at Seulgi.

It comes all at once: the rush of blood to her head and the thought that oh, oh -

-

"What's the hardest part?"

Seungwan never seems to be able to have a peaceful stretch of sleep. Seulgi spends all her time awake, blinking away at the ceiling just in case she wakes up. When Seungwan stirs they talk for a bit, usually Seungwan murmuring questions into Seulgi's shoulder, her fingers dancing around a spot on Seulgi's waist. It's hard to concentrate.

"Of what?"

"I mean - is it the languages? Because I know you're bad at that. Or... like, when you had to learn how to use a computer or something. Or is it the whole secret identity thing. I mean, I learned today in class that it's difficult to fabricate -"

Seulgi could hold her forever. She could listen forever. It doesn't matter, really. She has all the time in the world.

"The second hardest part was sending my parents off," Seulgi says, quietly, and Seungwan stops talking. Instead, she shifts forward, closer, presses her lips to Seulgi's forehead, then her cheek, then her eyelids, Seungwan's fingers running carefully down her jaw, brushing lightly against the skin of her neck. "But I could look after them," Seulgi gasps, involuntarily, when Seungwan drops lower. Her heart still beats like a runaway train. "And - I - still see them sometimes, but it's - not good to - b-because - I'm n-not - "

And suddenly Seungwan is gone. Seulgi lets out a silly whine and Seungwan laughs, pulling herself back to eye level with the older girl.

"Should I - stop?" Seungwan's eyes are concerned, her thumb skimming lightly across Seulgi's cheek.

Her other hand is placed carefully on Seulgi's fist, and Seulgi looks down to find that she's gathered up the fabric without knowing it, tugging it