Irene spent the next few days showing Wendy around her small hometown. The park where she and Yerim used to play, her old high school, the small high street with its quaint shops lining the edges. Sometimes Yerim accompanied them on their small walks, sometimes she was at school or staying at her friends house or something. The pair didn’t mind, Irene loved that her sister had grown so attached to Wendy and that her girlfriend enjoyed having Yerim around, it was something that would warm her heart whenever she thought about it, she’d never get tired of watching Yerim and Wendy interact with each other while she watched.

Today they were alone, Yerim being at school until the mid-afternoon, walking through the park in the centre of town. It was peaceful, calm, oddly warm for it being springtime but Irene put that down to Wendy, the girl just radiated warmth.

But despite all that, the comfortable silence as they walked together, the still spring air around them, Irene still felt like something was missing and she knew perfectly well what that was.

Wendy’s hand.

In hers.

She flexed her unoccupied fingers, deeply missing contact with the red head, missing being anchored to the girl next to her. She wanted so desperately to reach out and touch her, tell her she was right there, that she was with her. But she was also terrified, of this town, of its people, of the rumours that have haunted her for almost four years now. It’s not that she couldn’t take the stares or the jokes or comments, she could handle them, she had handled them, but to risk exposing Wendy to that sort of thing, showing her what Irene lived like before college, it wasn’t something she wanted Wendy to see or live for herself.

Irene knew Wendy was strong, that she would say she could handle it and she didn’t doubt that. But for those sorts of things to happen, for Wendy to realise that the stories Irene told her about her hometown were true and that they hadn’t changed in the years she was gone, Irene felt embarrassed to be back here. Back at square one. And this time she’d dragged Wendy back with her.

No, she thought, it’s not fair to do this to her.

So Irene’s hands fell limp by her sides on their walks, only reuniting with Wendy’s in the privacy of her own home and usually away from the uncomfortable stares of her parents in her room.

Wendy, wonderful Wendy, was kind, she was sweet, understanding and supportive. Irene didn’t know what she’d done in her past lives to deserve such a girl this time around but she was thankful to each and every one of the gods who might be looking down on her right now. Whenever Irene let her hand drop, Wendy didn’t question it, she knew Irene was worried and scared to be back in her hometown and didn’t mind. They’d spoken about it at night in the early days of arriving at Irene’s and Wendy knew it didn’t mean Irene loved her any less, she listened to Irene as she stumbled over her words to say it’s not that she was embarrassed of Wendy, but more that she was embarrassed of herself.

Wendy held her close that night, whispering for her not to worry, that she was right there for her in any way Irene needed her to be and that she trusted Irene with her whole heart.

So here they were, stood in a park, side by side, but not hand in hand and Irene has never felt further apart. The mere centimetres separating them felt like miles in her mind. It felt pathetic to Irene, that she was here with her girlfriend but still so afraid of the past that she didn’t want to hold her hand, that Wendy had to be okay with that.

It’s not fair to do this to her.

The thought runs through her head but with a new perspective. Wendy didn’t need to suffer just because she was having this internal war of 17 year old Irene versus her 20 year old self. She looks down at their hands, hanging loosely next to each other but not close enough to touch.

Be brave, she wills herself.

She lifts her hand as if it weighs a tonne, but as she nears Wendy, it gets lighter, as if all her worries and fears fall to the ground, forgotten. She hesitates slightly, trying to will herself to do this small act in defiance of what she fears.

But she can’t do it, not fully. Instead she lets her pinky intertwine with Wendy’s, much like they did on the first night they spent alone together, when Wendy walked her back from that ridiculous mini golf course. She lets her hand drop again, this time with her pinky loosely wrapped around Wendy’s.

Not brave enough, she thinks, chastising herself for her moment of cowardice.

Wendy looks up at the girl, eyes searching, as if asking if Irene is sure she meant to do that in public. She just shrugs slightly in response and looks ahead of herself, and pulls Wendy behind her by their pinkies, trying to wipe any negative thoughts coming into her head about the repercussions she’s so scared of.

She’s an adult now, she’s grown up, she doesn’t need to be afraid anymore. She squeezes Wendy’s small finger, feeling a sort of strength flow from the redhead and into her. Wendy is why she’s here and why she’s doing this, she’s giving her the courage to be here and the world deserves to see that somehow, even if it is just by having her pinky finger wrapped around her own.

As Wendy jogs lightly to catch up to her, Irene catches a wide smile on Wendy’s face in her peripheral. That made it all worth it, Wendy deserves nothing but to be smiling like that all the time and the fact Irene’s small moment of bravery made that happen… Yeah, it was worth it.

A light buzzing in her pocket alerts Irene, stopping her in her tracks. It’s a text from her mom, asking her to pick up Yerim from school since she won’t be home until later, the text reads on, saying there’s money under the fruit bowl for take out.

She passes the phone to Wendy who then mentions that if they make their way to the school now, they’ll be there in time to pick her sister up perfectly. Irene nods and the two walk slowly towards Yerim’s school, pinkies still firmly locked together, swinging gently between the two of them.

They walk up to the corner where they normally meet or drop Yerim, Irene firing off a quick text to the girl to meet her there instead of waiting for her mother. Five minutes later a distant bell can be heard and the air is slowly filled with chatter from students as they walk home. Soon she spots an excitable blonde girl running towards them, Irene also spots a poor girl being dragged behind her, desperately trying to keep pace.

“Hyunnie!” Yerim yells before letting go of the poor girl behind her and plowing into her instead, hugging her.

Irene is knocked off balance and is quick to peel the smaller girl off her. She looks over to the small black haired girl stood behind her and gives Yerim a questioning look.

“Oh!” Yerim half shouts, suddenly realising her forgotten guest, she pushes the other girl forward, “This is Saeron,” the girl, Saeron, gives a shy nod at the introduction, Irene thinks she recognises her as the girl who always meets Yerim at the gates the few times they’ve walked her to school this week, “can she come round Hyunnie, can she? Can she pleeeeeeaaaaassseeeeee?”

Irene looked between Saeron and her sister, who was giving her her best puppy dog eyes. She then closed her eyes, held the bridge of her nose and sighed.

“Fine,” she sighs in defeat, “look, I’ll text mom and see if it’s okay.”

Yerim squeals a little too loudly at the news so Irene gives her a small glare which works, the other girl being quiet almost immediately. After their mother texts back giving the okay, the two school girls walk ahead of the older pair, wildly chattering about things Irene could never hope to keep up with. In