[CONTENTID1]Comic Books and Casserole[/CONTENTID1]

[CONTENTID2] "You were always worth it. You're just too stubborn to notice." [/CONTENTID2]

[CONTENTID3]DECEMBER 

"That advice you gave me really payed off, Yeseul, thank you so much," Joonmyun said, catching up with her outside class with his essay folded up in his hand. She'd stashed hers away in her bag already, the comments and grade yet to be read. The final week of classes had been a flurry of assignments coming back and advisement from professors to study for exams over winter break. 

"It's not a problem," she replied. 

They headed down the corridor, lined with post-graduate student offices, toward the stairwell at the end. This was by far Yeseul's least favourite building to have a class in, and she was glad she only had to step foot in here once a week. The lighting was always either too bright or too dim and the heat was turned up uncomfortably high, even during the warmer months. The corridors were narrow, and there was a chance of getting hit every time someone opened a door.

Down on the main floor, a lecture was finishing. Yeseul recognised the hair amidst the crowd immediately, and realised he was headed straight for her. She wasn't sure if he'd seen hey yet or if he was just coming in her general direction, but she knew she couldn't run into him here, especially not with Joonmyun. Explaining why she'd slept with some older guy when Joonmyun thought she was a lesbian was a situation Yeseul wanted to avoid at all costs. 

"I've got to use the toilet," she said quickly, giving Joonmyun's arm a squeeze and waving in the general direction of the toilets at the other end of the hall. 

"Do you want me to wait for you?" he asked, since they usually took the bus together. He made her sit at the back so the accessibility section was clear, even though other students crowded on at the next stop and getting to the door was a pain. But things with Joonmyun were going well and she didn't want to mess it up, like she had with all of the other new things in her life, so she suffered at the back of the bus and kept her complaining to a minimum. 

"No, that's fine," Yeseul said, as her gaze locked onto Daeho's. His eyes widened a fraction – he was conversing with a girl who had the look of a fresher with a crush on her teacher, who couldn't be anyone but Daeho, much to Yeseul's horror – and he gently excused himself and made a beeline in her direction. 

Yeseul got into the stairwell seconds before Daeho. He didn't look upset or angry with her, just mildly surprised. "Yeseul," he said, smiling crookedly. "I was wondering when we'd run into each other." 

"Were you in a first year class just then?" she asked, because it was the first thing on her mind. 

"Oh, yeah, I'm TA'ing it," he said with a casual shrug. 

"A TA? So you're ..." 

Daeho smiled. "Doing my PhD." 

She'd figured him for a Master's student at most, definitely not pursuing his doctorate. "In English?" she asked with a frown. 

"Yeah, what else would I be doing?" he asked with a laugh. "I guess I didn't tell you that, did I?" 

"Definitely not," she muttered, tugging on a strand of hair that had fallen loose from her bun. "You do know I'm only in second year, right?" 

"My guess was third," he replied, and tucked his hands in the pockets of his trousers. "Are you all right with it? With me?" 

Yeseul pressed her palm to her forehead, taking a few steps back. She was glad for the large, empty stairwell, even if their voices carried. The heels of her boots clacked against the floor as she got closer to the wall, echoing loudly. "I don't know. I mean, obviously I knew you were older. But I guess I didn't actually expect to see you here. Now all I can think about is how you might have TA'ed one of my classes in first year and ... well, that does freak me out a bit." 

When she turned back to him, Daeho hadn't moved. His satchel hung from his shoulder – some expensive leather thing that matched his brogues. She suspected his sweater was cashmere, maybe angora. It looked soft. "It was just one night, thought, right?" he said. She nodded; it was the only thing stopping her from having a full on freak out. The whole thing with Daeho had been pushed to the back of her mind, replaced by the terrible date with Seojun and the looming train ride back to Seoul on Saturday. She might have been worried about Chanyeol too, if she'd seen him for more than ten minutes in the last week. But he'd been giving the apartment a wide berth since she told him to leave her alone on the balcony. The fact that he'd actually listened to her was surprisingly enough in itself. 

Only this time she wished he hadn't, because she felt worse every single day for what she'd said to him. 

"So, what now?" Daeho asked. 

She frowned at him. "What do you mean?" 

Daeho took a step closer, and Yeseul was immediately suspicious. "Well, I'd like to see you again. I know what you said before, but I thought that maybe I'd be able to convince you if we ever ran into each other. You never gave me your number." 

"Yeah, I don't really give it out," she told him, folding her arms over her chest. "And I don't think it's a good idea if we see each other again." 

"Too weird?" 

"No–" she started, then grimaced. "A bit, yeah." 

She was also not as attracted to him as she had been before, and a lot of that had been due to the alcohol coursing through her system and making her think that sleeping a nice guy in fancy shoes would do her good. The shoes made her wrinkle her nose now, like Chanyeol did whenever he got near a cigarette. 

"That's fair," he nodded. "But if you change your mind ..." 

She nodded and got out of there as quick as she could, catching the next bus off campus. Without thinking, she took a seat near the back. Yeseul was sliding on her noise-cancelling headphones when a man in a wheelchair came on and the two kids seated in the accessibility section got up and moved. She bit back a grin, thinking of Joonmyun, and slid down in her seat. 

"Do you think we'll have time to go to the Arario Gallery?" Serin asked. "I really want to see the Kim Inbae exhibit they've got on right now." 

"Shhhhhhh," Yeseul groaned, for the third time in the past half hour. She shifted in her sear, grateful for their nearly empty compartment. They'd even managed to get a table. She had her feet propped up on the sear opposite, arms folded over her chest, the most comfortable position she could get into on a train. "I'm trying to sleep." 

"Serves you right for going to that party when you knew we had an eight o'clock train," Serin said. 

Yeseul didn't open her eyes. "Joonmyun asked me to. Though I don't suppose it matters now, he thinks I've betrayed him. I swear, his vocabulary gets much more elaborate when he's drunk. Here I was thinking he was some idiot who shouldn't be doing English, and he goes and accuses me of being 'mendacious' and 'negligent.' I would be proud if he weren't being such an about the whole thing." 

"What happened?" 

"Can I tell you after I've had a nap?" Yeseul asked hopefully. 

"Nope," Serin replied. "Not when you've managed to burn yet another bridge the second I leave you alone. Do we have to have another discussion about how you destroyed the friendship Chanyeol had been trying to build – the one that you were actually starting to be all right with – with one sentence?" 

Yeseul scowled out the window at the countryside they were speeding past. "It was more of a command." 

"Yeseul." 

"Fine. I might have told Joonmyun that I only fancied girls in order to get him to stop asking me out," she said, and Serin rolled her eyes. "And then last night he saw me making out with a guy. I think it was one of Kyungsoo's football friends, too. God," She rubbed her forehead, emitting a long sigh. "Then I tried to explain it to him, but he wouldn't hear it. Kept going on about how I should have just told him no, even though I'd done just that for months and he never listened. Said that our friendship was built upon lies – that's where the 'mendacious' comment came in. I left after that and got even more drunk at home off of some wine Chanyeol had left behind, hence the headache. I swear, I never get hangovers from anything else." 

"Why did you even kiss that other guy in the first place?" 

Yeseul shrugged. "Hell, I don't know. He was probably hot and I didn't have anything better to do." 

"You're reminding me of Freshers Week, Yeseul," Serin said, and she made it sound like this was a very bad thing. 

"I don't remember Freshers Week." 

"Exactly." 

Yeseul groaned. "God." 

"When we get back, we'll figure out how to fix things with Joonmyun. He's much nicer than you give him credit for, he doesn't deserve to go around thinking you're nothing but a lying ." 

"He never called me a ," Yeseul pointed out. 

Serin smiled. "Well there you are. We're already halfway back to friendship." 

Yeseul rolled her eyes. 

"And while we're at it, perhaps you can try to be nicer to Chanyeol when the guys come up for New Years?" 

Unbeknownst to Serin, Yeseul had been planning on doing exactly that. Well, perhaps she wouldn't be nice to him, but she wasn't going to be rude on purpose again. She had come to the uncomfortable and unsettling truth that she actually liked having Chanyeol around the apartment, and chalked it up to his cooking and impeccable tea-making skills, because she didn't want to consider any other reasoning. 

"I'll be civil," Yeseul told her friend. 

Serin accepted this answer as the best she'd get, and let Yeseul sleep for the rest of the ride up to Seoul. 

Having grown up in the same area, Yeseul and Serin made their way from Seoul Station to Hannamdong, which involved a twenty minute subway ride and a bus transfer. Yeseul was happy to be out of bustling Central Seoul quick as she could; she'd never been a fan of the packed streets and sea of tourists, even if the parks and architecture were lovely. 

Yeseul's stop came before Serin's. "Wish me luck," she muttered, allowing Yeseul to give her hand an encouraging squeeze before she got off. 

The crisp air cut at Yeseul's cheeks as she made her way down the road. Her family lived in a three-story villa on a fairly quiet street, surrounded by families of affluence. When she reached the gate of her house, she could see her Dad's car parked in the gated garage. It was Saturday, so he was home, but probably in the office doing work. Yeseul couldn't remember if Youngjae had something on or if he was at home, but she hoped he was. She didn't want to spend her first few hours back in Seoul stuck with her parents. 

It felt odd just opening the front door and walking in, but Yeseul quickly brushed it off and discarded her boots, duffle bag and suitcase in the foyer, striding down the corridor. Taking a left, she came into the drawing room, which was empty. Yeseul glanced to her right and saw her Mum in the kitchen, putting on what she suspected was the second pot of coffee of the morning. 

"Him" Yeseul said as she still hadn't been noticed. 

When she did, Miyoung gasped and put a hand to her heart. "Oh! Yeseul, why didn't you shout when you got in?" 

"Sorry," she muttered, wandering further into the kitchen. It was just as pristine as ever. Yeseul wondered if they still had a cleaner come in every so often to make sure there wasn't a speck of dust in the place. She was suddenly very aware of the hole in her sock and the stain on her top (no thanks to Chanyeol), neither of which she would have been allowed to keep if she'd still been living at home. After a year and a half on her own, much of which was spent in the company of Byun Baekhyun, Yeseul had become far less concerned with how she looked. She no longer cared if there were loose threads on her sweater or tears in the knees of her jeans, or if she'd worn the same shirt three days in a row. 

Miyoung waved it off, setting down her mug and striding over to Yeseul. She put her arms around her in a light hug, patting Yeseul's back gently. "How was the train?" she asked, when she pulled away. 

"Fine." 

"And you got her all right from the station?" 

"Obviously." 

Miyoung's smile had gone tight. "Well–" 

"YESEUL!" came a cry from behind them, and then a body was colliding into Yeseul and arms were wrapping tightly around her waist. She lifted her hands, swivelling her head around to try and see Youngjae, but he'd buried his face in her side and didn't look to be letting go any time soon. She settled for ruffling his hair, which was longer and messier than she remembered. "I missed you." 

"Missed you too," she said, unable to help the smile that stretched across her lips. 

Youngjae finally let go, but he quickly grabbed her hand and was dragging her out of the room and to the stairs. They went up to the second floor, past the master bedroom and office on the first. The best part about their house set up was that Yeseul and Youngjae had the second level all to themselves. When he was small, they put their beds against the same wall and knocked before going to sleep and when they woke up the next day. Sometimes Youngjae would knock in the middle of the night (Yeseul was almost always still awake to hear it) if he'd had a bad dream, and she would go and stay with him until he fell back asleep. 

It surprised her that Youngjae hadn't opted to take Yeseul's larger room, with its big windows that faced the street and slanted roof he could stick his glow-in-the-dark stars to. But she supposed that it was still her room, even if she didn't live there anymore. The books she'd grown out of still sat on the shelves, old clothes hung in the closet, trinkets sat on every surface, things she didn't even think about anymore. 

Youngjae's room had changed. His interests were rapidly shifting, moving away from little boy sutff to Lego and comics and even school, which she was still surprised by. They sat facing each other on his bed, and Youngjae began to pepper her with questions. A lot of it she'd told him already over the phone, but he insisted upon hearing it again in person. 

"Well, Eunha and I broke up," Yeseul said, in response to his query on her romantic life (she didn't understand why he wanted to know, but suspected he was running out of questions), scratching the crown tattoo on her left foot absently. "You remember her, right? From all the times we Facetimed you?" 

"Yeah," Youngjae nodded. "What happened?" 

"We just weren't right for each other." 

Youngjae frowned at the quilt beneath them, picking at a loose thread. "Dad said that you were with her to try and prove something, and Mum said you were confused. You weren't confused, right? Because you told me that it wasn't important that she was a girl. You're always saying that the most important thing is to be yourself, even if Mum and Dad don't like it." 

"That's still true, buddy," Yeseul said softly. 

"But then why don't Mum and Dad let you do that? I don't understand, Yeseul. They're always talking about you and Dad gets upset about you liking girls. But you're just being yourself, right?" 

"I know it's hard to understand right now. Mum and Dad ... it's hard for them to accept that I'm not the daughter they always wanted. That's why they put so much pressure on you, Jae, because I've disappointed them." 

Youngjae frowned deeper. "That's not fair." 

Yeseul was furious about it, but she didn't like Youngjae seeing that. He got enough of it from their Dad, the person she'd gotten her temper from in the first place. "I know it isn't. Serin says they'll come around some day, though. And it seems like Mum might be nearly there. You said they were fighting less since I started calling her, right?" 

"They still talk about you lots, though. Mum thought ... she thought you'd gotten over your confusion. She said you had a date with a boy. I wasn't supposed to be listening, her and Dad were talking and I was hiding in the hallway cu