There were a lot of times I felt bad for Tiffany.

              She gave me so much: excitement in my otherwise monotonous—fun, but monotonous—life of watching dramas and TV shows, drawing, and playing games all day; barrages of compliments to satisfy my non-existent self-confidence; and above all, comfort despite the situation in which talking to my best friend felt dangerous. In return, what did I give her?

              Obviously, I never voiced that concern. Tiffany had enough on her plate with what was happening with Jessica; however, even if she was perturbed by the fact, she never showed it. Was she hiding her problems, as I was mine? It was presumptuous to assume that Tiffany was always open about herself because of how she acted, but it just really felt that way.

              No matter how I thought about it though, I could never completely dismiss the possibility that Tiffany was putting up a front for me. Why she would want to do that, I didn’t know. Maybe because she thought it strange to talk to me about my best friend spying on her (or, theoretically, me)?

              I would be lying if I said the thought that Jessica was sent to Korea as a spy didn’t perturb me at all; why would Jessica take such a job? Was she given some benefit she couldn’t turn down, or maybe she was blackmailed? The Jessica I knew would never partake in shady business … but when I thought about it, the only shady part was the spying itself.

              That seemed to contradict itself, I know, but it wasn’t like she was doing anything illegal or anything: she was just observing one (or both) of us and presumably sending reports back to Tiffany’s father. Its sort of like stalking, but not in a necessary bad way … I really wasn’t making this sound any better, was I?

              My point was that I couldn’t understand why Tiffany was so insistent on her anger towards Jessica, especially if they were, in their ‘previous lives’, or back in America, lovers—a couple. It couldn’t be that I was biased from being Jessica’s friend since Tiffany and Jessica were once … well, they dated before. Tiffany even seemed really eager to accept Jessica back into her life, and Jessica the same—but that changed because I had to open my stupid mouth, wasn’t it? Before, people (Jessica and Tiffany) would always tell me how it was endearing, but now that it’s caused problems, if I never fixed this about myself, then who knew what other trouble it could cause?

              I sat down with my lunch in front of the TV, preparing to watch a movie that was recommended by others on the internet, when my doorbell rang. “Fany, I’m eating right now,” I replied, not even bothering confirming whether or not my guest was whom I expected.

              “You’re not sitting on the couch, watching movies by yourself again, are you?”

              I immediately reached for the remote and turned off the TV. “Noo…” I replied, moving to the kitchen area for good measure, placing my plate down before opening the door.

              “You totally were about to watch a movie, weren’t you?” Tiffany said happily, letting herself in and taking off her shoes.

              “No,” I repeated innocently, closing the door behind her, walking back into the kitchen, “I was just about to eat.”

              Tiffany, donning the pink slippers she always did when coming over, walked into the residence, looking around. “Are you sure? You know that I don’t like liars, right?”

              Whereas 99% of me knew that Tiffany was being playful, that lingering 1% feared for our friendship. Just as I resolved to admit the truth, Tiffany cut me off, claiming, “That remote isn’t where it usually is. You were about to watch a movie!”

              She definitely sounded playful … but was she seriously not going to get mad at me?

              “You liar, I ought to punish you for doing that,” Tiffany said, wrapping me into an embrace from behind.

              I jumped inside my skin as she back-hugged me. Her hands ended up wrapping themselves a little closer to my s than I was comfortable with, but I didn’t have the courage to tell her that.

              “I—I … sorry,” I replied, trying to break out of her embrace, “But let me finish my lunch first~” I whined, attempting to lace my voice with a little aegyo.

              “Oh? What did you make?”

              Evidently, it worked as Tiffany let it go just like that. I took conscious effort to make sure my mouth remained closed as I thought, why couldn’t Tiffany just forgive Jessica like that?

              “Kimbap,” I responded.

              “Oh, can I have some?” she said, following me.

              “Did you not eat yet?”

              “Yeah,” she replied casually. Her response hung in the room for a brief moment, after which she retorted. “What, are you judging me? Are you calling me fat?”

              “If I did, I would be wrong,” I giggled, sitting down and sliding the plate to the side for her.

              “Aw, you’re so sweet,” she said, taking the seat next to me, “What were you about to watch?”

              “I don’t know, it was a recommendation I saw on the internet,” I replied, beginning my meal.

              Tiffany laughed, saying, “How could you not know?”

              “What?” I replied, slightly flustered, “I don’t know half of the titles of movies I watch.”

              “You’re strange,” she said casually, reaching for a piece. “Did you make this yourself?” I nodded, to which Tiffany promptly put a piece into . “Wow, it’s really good.”

              “Yah, finish chewing before you speak,” I scolded her, chuckling regardless.        

              “Yes, mother,” she said after a few seconds, “By the way, did you learn to cook so well from your mom?”

              “Sort of,” I told her, “My parents were always really busy people, so my mom didn’t really have much time to cook. She only knew how to cook a few things, and kimbap was one of those things. She taught me the basics, so I did some research and experimented a few times before I got it like this.”

              “Wow, I bet you would make a really good wife,” she casually commented.

              I scoffed at that. I would make a good wife? Me? What about me would make me a good wife? My social awkwardness? The debt I accrued from four years of college? I couldn’t even serve as a trophy wife or a house wife since I didn’t want to just push all my debt onto someone else, not to mention that I didn’t fit those roles in more ways than one.

              “I don’t know,” I responded, removing thoughts of post-college from my head. These worrying topics always sprouted seeds of doubt and anxiety in me, and the solution I had adapted was to just avoid it; wipe my mind of the topic and think about something else.

              “What are you thinking about?” Tiffany inquired, reaching over the table and grabbing the hand that was holding my chopsticks, “Keeping negative thoughts bottled up inside you is self-destructive and only leads to bad things, even if it doesn’t seem like it right now.”

              “Hm?” I said, refocusing onto Tiffany, “Oh, I have been told that sometimes, my resting face looks like that, but don’t worry about me.”

              Tiffany eyed me, to which I simply smiled innocently and reached for a kimbap myself. “Are you going to eat any more?”

              She shook her head. “I want to know what’s going on inside that cute little head of yours sometimes,” she said, setting her chopsticks down onto the plate.

              “I wish I knew myself,” I said, chuckling to myself as I met her gaze.

              I wasn’t one for eye contact. I hardly talked to people in general, so the most eye contact I would make would be with a server or the employee working the cash register. I had extended conversations with very few people, but of the ones I did, I’ve never really been impacted by a gaze such as Tiffany’s.

              It was a soft gaze, like a mother to her newborn; her eyes were curved ever so slightly, a gentle smile teasing the corners of her lips. Just looking at her made me feel warm and safe, as if I was standing next to a fireplace indoors on a rainy day. I found myself opening my mouth, not knowing that I was about to revealing my thoughts until I caught myself in the action.

              I quickly closed my mouth, quickly diverting my gaze. Even as I retrained my eyes onto the kimbap, her warm gaze and soft smile lingered in my mind; I have always had trouble reading people, but even I could see the worry and caring written on her face. My heart was pounding inside my chest for some reason, like I just finished walking up three flights of stairs. Why? What’s happening?

              , what was wrong with me? Was I blushing?

              I sighed and continued eating. How could a simple smile and a brief locking of the eyes cause this? This wasn’t my normal heart rate, was it? Maybe it was and I just never paid attention to it … no, there was no way my heart normally beat this quickly. What was wrong with me?

              “Why are you eating so fast? Are you in a hurry or something?”

              Tiffany’s laughing voice caught me off guard; while I was conscious of the fact that I was eating, I only realized what Tiffany was saying after seeing that there were only two pieces left on the plate.

              “Oh,” I said in response, unwilling to meet her gaze in case the same thing happened again.

              Now that I thought about it, there was one time I felt something similar, but that memory was a part of an experience I resolved to forgetting.

              “Did you have any other plans for today other than watching that movie?” she asked, moving her chair so that she was next to me.

              “No, not really,” I told her, finishing the last two pieces of my meal.

              No plans, huh … what was I doing with my summer? I was just wasting away, that’s what I was doing. And what were my parents doing? Working really hard.

              In my defense, the reason I came home during summer break to spend time with my parents, but as luck would have it, this summer was busier for them than others. Why was this the case? If they were indeed doing something that required all of their time, I hoped at least that they were eating well and sleeping enough. Especially since I started going to college, I’ve noticed my dad’s hair becoming grayer. Was I being too inactive? I gritted my teeth; I wished I was done with school already and could find a job so my parents could stop working. Should I just find a summer job? What kind of job should it be? Or maybe I should start studying for next year?

              My vision briefly became blurry, a faint, stinging pain bothering my eyes. The pain went away with a blink, but the pain was replaced with a strange, cold, tickling sensation on my cheeks.  “Taeyeon, you’re crying,” Tiffany pointed out. I only realized this when I jumped as she wiped a tear from my cheek. “What’s wrong? Let me help you.”

              “It’s nothing, really,” I insisted, wiping my cheeks, “Sorry, I—”

              “Taeyeon, I’m going to get mad.”

              I jumped again, but this time, in fear. Tiffany, who always used a warm, bubbly, friendly voice to me, suddenly changed her tone to a slightly deeper, more serious one. I knew, for the most part, that I had nothing to be afraid of, but I couldn’t help but cower nonetheless. I’ve experienced her angry voice, and it wasn’t something I was eager to meet.

              “Let me help you, ok? Are you going through a bad time right now? What are you thinking?” she switched back to her doting, motherly tone, pushing her chair closer to mine. “Seeing you cry makes me feel as bad as I thought it would, and I would hate if I wasn’t able to help you. Let me help you, please?” Tiffany pleaded, gingerly placing a hand on my thigh.

              This is my responsibility. I shouldn’t burden Tiffany with more than she already has. She didn’t deserve to waste her time worrying about everything I did: I wasn’t about to do that to her.

              Tiffany’s request made me second-guess myself though. “Tiffany, I don’t think—”

              “Taeyeon,” Tiffany began, stern look on her face, “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to spank you.”

              “Wha?”

              That was my only response. Tiffany was wearing that playful, evil expression on her face that told me she was planning something, but it took me until Tiffany started trying to pull me off the chair that I realized she was serious.

              “Wait!” I said in a flurry, jumping out of the chair and creating distance between us. “Wait! I’ll tell you,” I said, conceding to her.

              She grinned triumphantly. Again, Tiffany was giving me so much, and again, I felt like I did nothing to deserve it. I felt guilty for pushing my problems onto her, but at the same time, it felt satisfying—like I was holding my breath all this time and now Tiffany finally permitted me to release it.

              “Um, so…” I rushed my words out, only to stop after realizing I didn’t know what I wanted to say. “What do you want me to tell you?”

              “What you’re worried about, why you were crying, everything,” she said, sitting back down.

              I frowned, sitting back down as well. “Well, honestly, I don’t want you to also worry about stuff when you already have something. I don’t want to be a burden to you,” I admitted.

              “Yah Kim Taeyeon, get over here,” Tiffany said, rising out of her seat again. I instinctively shot up, jumping away from her. “Don’t ever say that you think you’re a burden to me again. My friends are never a burden to me, especially you TaeTae,” she said, sitting back down in her seat.

              “Ah, ok,” I replied, mirroring her action, “Sorry…”

              I stared down in my lap, fearing that I offended her. Tiffany remained silent for a brief moment before grabbing my hand. “Oh my gosh, you’re so cute Taeyeon! You don’t have to apologize for that,” she said, laughter in her voice. “Go on, tell me what’s wrong.”

              “Um, well as for why I started crying, it was because I was thinking about how hard my parents are working and how frustrated I feel for not being able to help them yet,” I said. Tiffany nodded; her intense gaze told me she was paying close attention to me. “And then the other thing was something similar to that; I was worrying about if I could find a job after college and about … um, well, I guess about relationships and that stuff.”

              “The only thing you can do is your best, right? I’m sure you’ll finish your final year of college easily and find a job easily too and then you can start supporting your parents. While you’re looking for a job, you can always come work with me!” she said cheerfully, “Oh and also, don’t worry about relationships—I’ll date you.”

              I let out a chuckle, immediately turning my face away to hide the creeping flush that was coming onto my cheeks. “Right, thanks Fany,” I replied, grabbing the plate and heading to the sink to clean the dishes.

              “I’ll help you!” she said, scurrying out of her seat.

              “No its fine. Let me do something for you, at least,” I said playfully, waving her off.

              I felt Tiffany pause as I placed the plates and chopsticks into the sink. Curious, I turned around to see Tiffany standing a few paces away from the table, evidently shocked. “Is that what you think? It’s not, right? That you think you never do anything for me?”

              I slapped myself. This wasn’t even a case of my thoughts being said out loud, it was just me being careless.

              “Um…” considering what just happened, I figured it was the best to tell the truth. “I have thought that a few times, yeah,” I confessed.

              Tiffany frowned. For some reason though, I got the sense that it wasn’t from disappointment … but of what, I wasn’t sure. “I don’t think you could ever know what you do for me. In fact, I hope you never do get to understand how much you helped me; your presence, that you exist, makes my life so much better. In time, I’ll tell you everything, but just know that, ok?”

              Again, I took a few seconds to process that; not because it was startling, per se, but because it was hard to comprehend. What does that mean? How could my existence make her happier?

              I chose not to press the question and just accept it, whatever it meant. “I’ll help you, and then we can watch that movie together,” she said, walking up next to me.

              We stood in silence for a while, the only sound in the room being the running water from the sink.

              “But seriously Taeyeon, don’t keep these thoughts to yourself,” Tiffany suddenly said, “it’s really unhealthy for you, and you’re skinny enough as it is. Just tell me everything, ok? If I ever catch you worrying about something and thinking you can’t burden me with anything, I’m seriously going to spank you.”

              “Alright, ok,” I said, smiling, feeling that same, creeping warmth spread into my body. I had an inkling about what this feeling was, but I shelved that into the depths of my mind. Don’t deal with the complicated stuff, just enjoy being with Tiffany for now.

It’s been three weeks :’C

SORRY EVERYONE, I had two exams last week though and I couldn’t keep my promise of an at least biweekly update schedule. College, man …

Fun fact, I had an outline for this chapter involving Tiffany’s friends, but as I continued writing, I decided to keep this just between the dynamic duo (for fairly obvious reasons, I think).

Anyone notice the way Tiffany gave Taeyeon her advice? What does everyone think about that?

Also, please use the chat function D’: I paid 2500 karma for it … I just wish that the chatroom couldn’t only store five messages, but AFF only has a finite amount of server space, so I guess that’s their limitation :c

Anyway, enough ranting. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed, and hopefully I’ll be able to update in a timelier manner next time! :D