One of the things I disliked the most about sitting at the bar was the lack of a backrest. I already had enough trouble with slouching my back as it was, considering how much I spent in my room at my desk, but now that there was absolutely nothing to support my back, I could feel it every time I started slouching. Sometimes, it would take me half an hour to realize that I was slouching.

              I submitted this complaint to Tiffany, but she just waved it off as a joke. Socially inept as I was, I played it off similarly, genuinely wishing the bar would install backrests to these stools in the back of my mind.

              “Taeyeon, what’s your ideal type?”

              Tiffany’s elbow was planted on the smooth black-marble counter, her chin resting on her hand, her eyes directed straight at me. Coming to this bar as often as I have accustomed me to Tiffany’s sudden disruption of my thoughts, appearing in front of me. However, after the revelation I had the other day, I suddenly found that remaining calm was becoming increasingly hard. I started to notice little things, like how her eyes were curved upwards slightly, how her fingers wrapped around her chin and rested on her cheeks, the way her plump lips tugged at the corners of .

              Was I being creepy?

              “Hm? Is it me?” she replied, standing up straight and pointing at herself, exaggerated shocked expression adorning her face.

              “Don’t get too full of yourself,” I warned her, smiling nonetheless. “My ideal type? Why?”

              She shrugged. “I’m just curious.”

              I tapped my fingers against the bar counter meticulously, hoping to stall long enough for the next customer to call for Tiffany. “What are you going to do with that information? Are you trying to set me up?”

              “You’re stalling,” Tiffany accused, crossing her arms, “You’re stalling for the next customer to call for me so that you won’t have to answer that question.”

              I sighed. This was something else I had gotten used to: Tiffany’s ability to read my mind. “Fine,” I conceded, “My ideal type?” I pondered a bit before continuing, “Since I’m normally the quiet type, I would like someone who’s outgoing and adventurous, but also someone I can talk to easily. Also, I like people who are determined and hard-working, but most importantly, that person has to love me and cherish me a lot because—” because God knows I can’t do that for myself.

              “Because why?”

              I hesitated. What was I supposed to say now? I racked my brain for any excuse, any filler, and eventually came up with, “Because that’s what’s the most important in a relationship, right?” I finished, immediately providing a hastily crafted justification with, “Wow, that’s so cheesy, I can’t believe I said that.”

              Tiffany smiled mysteriously, placing her elbow back on the counter and leaning forward. “Your description matches me really well, doesn’t it?”

              My heart constricted; my eyes went wide in panic as I ran over what had just come out of my mouth. Did I really end up describing her? It certainly could be seen that way I guess—why did I say that? Oh god, would Tiffany think I was weird?

              “I—I don’t—I wasn’t really—I mean, you could say that about a lot of people, probably,” I stammered, my brain running at a million miles an hour through a foggy haze, “Not that I think a lot of people love me, I guess, but I mean, well, I don’t think that—”

              I was interrupted as another customer called for Tiffany. “I was just pointing something out, no need to get flustered over it,” Tiffany, who was smiling and watching me make a complete idiot out of myself, noted cheekily.

              I wanted to punch myself. I really, sincerely, genuinely wanted to just beat myself up.

              That feeling has noticeably increased ever since I’ve met Tiffany. Then again, I’ve never met someone who was so willing to talk to me before. Statistically speaking, the more someone like me spent talking, the more times I would mess up like and end up feeling like this, so I guess it made sense. Still, why did I have to embarrass myself so much in front of her?

              I stared into my drink. Tiffany’s words had merit, though; all she did was point something out. I was the one who jumped to conclusions and assumed she was accusing me of describing her, specifically, as my ideal type. Why would I do that? Usually, I’m extremely careful about jumping to conclusions; doing that in the courses I was taking almost always hurt more than it helped, not to mention that I learned about jumping to conclusions the hard way in my younger, more naïve years.

              I lifted my head and watched Tiffany in her sleek work uniform, gracefully presenting the customer his drink and conversing with him. All other thoughts tuned out as I just watched her. Her uniform really did fit Tiffany well—perfectly, even. Despite the bar’s ambient background music, Tiffany’s voice shone bright and loud, cheerful in its demeanor as always. Staring at her was like standing in front of a blazing fireplace on a cold snowy day: I was filled with the warm feeling of comfort. Before long, I found a smile unknowingly forming on my face; it was only after Tiffany turned around that I realized what I was doing and wiped the smile off my face, bringing my cup to my face, hoping Tiffany didn’t notice. My heart racing a mile a minute, I nervously sat there, slowly drinking my cold, fizzy drink.

              As I peered over the edge of my cup, I breathed a sigh of relief seeing Tiffany washing the cocktail mixer at the sink. What was I doing? It wasn’t even that I was staring at her absent-mindedly while thinking about something, it was that I was actively looking at her.

              I frowned to myself, pulling out my phone to check the time.

              “Taeyeon, actually, have you seen last night’s episode of ‘Love or Death’?”

              My eyes lit up. “Yeah! I did!”

              I put down the cup, sitting up straight. I took a brief second to wince, once again just realizing that I was slouching. “What did you think of it?”

              I was a er for dark dramas, and the drama/zombie apocalypse ‘Love or Death’ was one of them. Jessica and my high school friend always questioned my tastes, so I guess it was unusual, but there was just something satisfying about watching characters struggle against such hopeless situations that appealed to me.

              “Oh, I didn’t know you watched it! I really loved it; I had a feeling that their situation was too quiet and that something would happen, but of course it had to be the father—was he ever given a name? Anyway, I feel like he’s way too selfish, so on one hand, I’m glad that he had to face the consequences for his selfishness, but on the other hand, their safe spot is gone. Honestly though, I don’t feel like his intentions were bad—he’s just really strong in his beliefs and I hope he can be redeemed later on. But also, I think—”

              I suddenly cut myself off, my cheeks suddenly started to burn.

              Tiffany was situated in front of me, giving me that warm motherly smile that she had whenever I was rambling like I was at the moment.

              “Um, sorry,” I said quietly, taking another sip of my drink.

              “No, its ok! It’s really cute, seeing you that excited!” Tiffany laughed.

              It didn’t feel cute. It felt embarrassing—really embarrassing. That was the second time in how many minutes?

              “I liked it too. You know, I don’t really like those kinds of scary dramas because they always make me squeamish, but when I started watching it, I couldn’t stop watching because it was so interesting. The last few episodes weren’t so bad, but now I feel like it will get scary again.”

              “Yeah—wait,” I replied, “I don’t think…” I trailed off, digging through my memory reserves, “Have I ever told you about that show? I don’t think I ever said its name directly.”

              “Hm? Oh, you mentioned a TV show like that in a text once, so I looked it up and binge watched everything up until the latest episode,” she explained casually.

              Did she start watching it just for me?

              Don’t be stupid, Taeyeon. Of course a friend would want to watch a TV show another friend is watching if she thinks it’s good. That’s called ‘word of mouth’.

              We proceeded to talk about the show for the next few minutes, and it was in these next few minutes that I came to understand why I felt the way I did with Tiffany.

              With most strangers, I felt an unnerving kind of discomfort; I think most people claim this to some degree, but for me, it was almost like a fear. Fear of saying the wrong thing, fear of reading something incorrectly, fear of seeming rude … the list went on.

              However, none of this existed with Tiffany. With Tiffany, I felt like I could speak freely; our conversations always put me at ease, and I never had to use the brain power I did for team projects in high school and college. Despite only knowing Tiffany for a month, I felt like I’ve known her ever since elementary school.

              It was only after Tiffany got called by another customer that I realized the amount of time that passed. I found myself watching her again, soon realizing that Tiffany was returning to the same man. This time though, the way Tiffany’s conversation panned out concerned me. In front of the man were probably around two dozen shot glasses, Tiffany pouring alcohol into each glass carefully. I could tell that she was reluctant by that if-you-say-so smile she told me she had to use sometimes while working here, but that wasn’t even the most worrying thing.

              To me, at least, the most worrying thing was the man’s already semi-drunk demeanor. He was being boisterous and cheerful, which generally wasn’t unexpected; however, given that it was a Sunday night, and the man looked very much like a normal, standard employee who worked Monday-Friday, his behavior was highly unusual.

              A balloon of anxiety built up inside my chest; my fingers uncontrollably tapped against the table, my legs yearning, aching, needing to just stand up, walk over there, and tell that man to leave Tiffany alone. I held myself back because Tiffany had informed me of past encounters of rowdy customers and I elected to trust her. Still, it was immensely unsettling to just sit there and watch the two interact like that, especially after the man started taking shots.

              “Tiffany, don’t push yourself,” I muttered to myself, nervously eyeing her as she filled the last few shots in. Truthfully, my worried was only compounded by the fact of Tiffany’s attractiveness. Whatever my feelings for her were, anyone could see that becoming an issue in such a situation.

              “Hey, stay here! Watch this, I’ll finish the rest in the next two minutes!”

              The man’s boisterous voice overpowered the bar’s stereo system. In a gleeful stupor, he reached for the rows of shot cups only to be stopped by Tiffany, who gingerly placed a hand over the outreached hand. My hand subconsciously balled into fists; I felt my eyebrows drawn together as I continued monitoring them.

              “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said politely, “Do you have work tomorrow?”

              He waved it off. “I can take the day off,” he bragged, “I’m a manager, you know. I’m probably one of the richest people in this bar right now, maybe even more so than the building’s owner.”

              Why would he talk about his wealth? What relevance did it have with anything? Was he just gloating about the amount of freedom he had? Did he want to impress Tiffany?

              He grabbed the shot glass, but Tiffany tightened her grip. My fists balled more tightly against the palm of my hand.

              “All the more to be a good example if you’re in charge of people, right?”

              The man stopped, letting go of the shot glass. My arm and leg muscles tightened when he shot Tiffany a grin; on the surface, out of context, it was a normal grin. But even I could tell the grin meant bad news; I would have gotten up if I wasn’t inexplicably rooted to my seat. Was it fear? Anxiety? What was it?

              “Do you like that? Touching me? How about I reciprocate and show you just how good at touching I am?”

              Tiffany reeled back, her hand shooting away from the man’s hand as if it was a hot stove. She stumbled back a few steps, enough so that her face fell into my peripheral.

              Her eyes were wide in shock: not in disgust or anger or anything, in shock. I questioned myself if I was seeing thing incorrectly but decided that there was no way I was mistaking it: her eyes were wide open, her red lips slightly parted, her hands frozen in a strange position.

              I stood up, but just as my mouth opened, another woman in a uniform walked up confidently; I noticed that there was a pin on the right area of the uniform, indicating to me the woman being the bar’s manager.

              “Mister, please pay and leave right now.”

              Her tone was strict and fierce, straight and to the point. Her eyes were on fire, baring into the man’s soul.

              “What do you—”

              “Mister, I will not have a customer disrespect my employees like this. Please leave before I get security involved. Trust me, you do not want security to get involved; they are not gentle with disruptive customers.”

              “Ok, fine, damn,” he said defensively, backing out of his seat and taking out his wallet. “I was just having some fun,” he grumbled, taking out a few bills and placing it on the counter.

              “Well, the next time you decide to have ‘fun’ at my bar, I will make sure to directly inform the security about it.”

              He grumbled something else in reply, walking out of the bar.

              “Tiffany, are you ok?”

              The manager’s voice did a quick 180, immediately transforming into a motherly, doting tone.

              “I-I’m—”

              “Tiffany!”

              I didn’t even know how I got there, but I found myself in the spot the man was previously occupying, having ditched my drink in my previous spot.

              “Tiffany, I’m so sorry I didn’t help you!”

              I blinked once and found a tear rolling down my cheek. Wait, was I crying?

              Tiffany’s facial expression mellowed drastically. “Taeyeon—”

              My mouth just started moving, spewing out words before I could even think another thought. “I just—I’m just a coward, a good-for-nothing friend who can’t protect her friend, I wanted to help but I couldn’t because I couldn’t move for some reason, I think it was because I was scared but it must have been so scary for you, I’m so sorry I couldn’t—”

              “Taeyeon-ah.”

              Tiffany reached over the counter again, this time placing a hand on my balled-up fists that were somehow on the bar counter. Her smile melted me; the guilt and embarrassment, the anger and frustration, it all melted away.

              “I see that you’ll be fine,” Tiffany’s manager said, turning to smile at me.

              “Thank you for protecting Tiffany,” I said, bowing to her.

              “Don’t do that, you don’t have to bow that much, I’m just doing my job,” she said, “Thank you for taking care of Tiffany, she’s a really precious employee to me,” she said, bowing back before departing.

              “Taeyeon, I didn’t know you where this protective of me.”

              Tiffany’s provocative tone stiffened my spine. I’ve experienced this tone enough to understand she was about to tease me. “Well, since you’re sitting in his seat, do you want to continue where he left off?”

              I stammered nonsense for what felt like a minute straight, eventually landing on, “W-Why did your manager respond so quickly?”

              Tiffany gave a hearty chuckle, granting my topic diversion an answer. “She pays special attention to me.” Her answer was deceptively serious; if I was simply listening to her tone, I would’ve assumed she was answering a question such as, ‘what is your favorite breed of dog?’ “She’s actually the one who scouted me, and I’m really thankful for her because I met her when I … I was at a real low point, where I struggled to find something to live—”

              Tiffany was cut off by the beckon of another customer. Tiffany looked as if she had just snapped out of a trance, giving me a sideways smile before going to attend the eagerly awaiting man.

              My mind filled in the blank automatically; I struggled to keep an open perspective, but it seemed all but obvious. What kinds of trials and tribulations has Tiffany undergone? Was my assumption correct, even?

              When Tiffany came back, she looked a bit more timid. “Sorry Taeyeon, I don’t think I’m ready to tell you everything; I know I’m being hypocritical with hiding the truth, but I promise I will tell you one day.”

              “Ah, ok, thank you for telling me,” I replied. I immediately felt the desire to punch myself after saying that. Damn it Taeyeon, say something to comfort her. What’s wrong with you?

              I reached for my cup in frustration only to find it not there. Right, I ditched it.

              “I’ll get it for you, Tae,” Tiffany said, gliding over to my previous seat. As she was walking back, the door jingled open; my initial decision to ignore it was overturned as I saw Tiffany’s immediate reaction.

              I turned around, and sure enough, I saw Jessica walking through the bar’s entrance. I knew Tiffany was still mad at her, but it felt wrong to ignore my best friend, so I gave her a slight smile and wave. When her gaze met mine, her initially nervous expression vanished; she smiled back gracefully and headed towards me.

              “Here it is,” she said, her eyes drifting away as Jessica took the seat left of me, “Are you sure you don’t want anything else?”

              “I told you already, didn’t I? I don’t come here to drink,” I told her.

              “Oh? So you just come here to keep Tiffany company?”

              “Yeah, my parents are away, so I don’t have much else to do,” I replied.

              “Ah, ok.”

              I could tell Jessica wanted to say more; after being friends with her for this long, even I could see a window for her to tease me. However, the absence of it felt strange to the point that I wasn’t sure if I welcomed the fact that Jessica didn’t follow up.

              Tiffany gradually drifted away as silence clung onto the atmosphere. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, though; to ask Tiffany’s forgiveness, especially immediately after realizing how bad Tiffany’s past might have been.

              “How have you been?”

              I cringed at the awkwardness of that question, despite it coming from my own mouth.

              Jessica replied with a chuckle. “If you accepted my video calls, maybe you’d know.”

              I was 99% sure Jessica wasn’t mad at me. I’ve had this problem in the past, where I was insecure about the meaning behind Jessica’s words and drew false conclusions, but we’ve since talked about it so I was sure she wasn’t actually frustrated … mostly.

              “Sorry, I—” I cut myself off. For some reason, it felt strange to just reveal the reason, that I didn’t want to potentially anger Tiffany by communicating with Jessica, despite me knowing her for so long. That line of reasoning was counter-logic, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t I be siding with my best friend, whom I’ve known longer? Even I didn’t know why I was doing what I have been the past few days.

              “You know, I thought you’d be more excited to be able to spend summer break in Korea together,” she whined, pouting by jutting out her lower lip.

              Just say it. It’s not Jessica that’s mad, after all. It’s ok, you’ve known her for this long already, it’ll be fine. “I just … I don’t want you two to be distant. When I first met Tiffany—” I looked over at her to see her diligently cleaning cups. That was strange, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her do that before; didn’t she say that usually, someone else did that? “—I thought that you two would get along well because you two are so similar. Now that I know that you two knew each other in the past, but Fany is upset at you and I wish I could help her,” I said, quickly adding on, “and you.”

              Jessica nodded. “Truthfully, I came here to talk to her; I was prepared to be alone, so I’m really thankful that you’re here too,” she admitted.

              “Are you still spying?”

              This time, my words were carefully cherry-picked and intentional. To say I wasn’t nervous to ask the question would be an outright lie, but I deemed it necessary—for their sake, and for my own.

              Jessica chuckled at that, a response I wasn’t expecting to say the least. “Actually, I haven’t done my job this entire week,” she admitted.

              That was all I needed to trust her. “Fany,” I called out; she turned around, set the cup down and glided over.

              Tiffany finished drying out the cup that was in her hand before walking over. “You called?”

              I hesitated, realizing I didn’t know how to enunciate my thoughts. Whatever, just wing it. “Um … I don’t like seeing two of my good friends being like this, can you please try to talk everything out?”

              Tiffany sighed, conceding to my plead. “Jessica, are you still working for that man?”

              I felt her stiffen up next to me. “This last week actually, I was reflecting to myself and didn’t do my job.”

              Her response was practiced, like she was reading a line from a play. This, however, seemed to infuriate Tiffany even more. “What, is that what he told you to say? Are you trying to save face? How can you call invading into someone else’s life ‘your job’? Are you here so that you can submit something in your weekly report to your boss? Tell him I have this to tell you: ‘don’t interfere with my life ever again’.”

              “Tiff, I’m—”

              “Don’t pretend to be close to me. Friends don’t sacrifice each other for personal gain. Leave, now, please.”

              Jessica hung her head. “I’m sorry, Tiffany,” Jessica responded after a few seconds of silence.

              She didn’t even defend herself? Why not? Was Tiffany right? Was I the only one not seeing something?

              “Taeyeon, I’ll see you later. Thank you for trying,” she said, giving me a half-smile.

              “Jessica …” I didn’t know what to say, so I just let the words hang in the air as Jessica stood up and walked back through the entrance she walked through a few minutes ago.

              When the door closed behind Jessica, Tiffany turned around. “Fany, wait.”

              She immediately stopped, her back still facing me. “Fany, I know you feel hurt and betrayed, but Jessica is my friend—my best friend, and even if you lost your trust in her, I still have faith that she has a reason.”

              Tiffany turned around, a fierce yet warm look in her eyes. “Taeyeon, there’s one thing I’ve learned from Jessica’s boss, and that’s lying is a habit. People can’t help themselves; if you give someone a chance after they’ve lied, they will believe it’s ok and continue to do so. Those who lie are habitual liars, and those people are people I will not associate with.”

              I frowned; not because I was frustrated or anything, but because I was sad for her. I couldn’t even imagine the kinds of things Tiffany had to go through to arrive at this philosophy. To listen to Tiffany explain her thought process like that tugged at my heartstrings.

              So, for the second time this summer break, I decided to use aegyo.

              Bracing myself, I started. “Fany-ah, I don’t know what bad things happened to you, but I want to help you. Let me help you please? I don’t like it when my two best friends are mad at each other…”

              I decided to go with the high-pitched, baby voice paired with a pair of balled-up fists clasped directly under my mouth.

              Luckily, Tiffany received it well, her facial expression melting away.

              “That’s cheating,” she accused, grinning regardless, “Fine, I’ll reconsider.”

              A grin broke out on my face. “Tiffany, thank you!” If I could hug her at that moment, I would have.

              Tiffany shook her head, lowering it in the process. “Someone like me doesn’t deserve someone like you.”

              At least, that’s what I thought I heard. Tiffany’s face was directed towards the ground as she spoke, so I might have misunderstood her. I covered my mouth with my hand as I watched Tiffany return to the sink to wash the rest of the cups, wondering if I heard correctly, and if I did, what it meant.

Chapter was a bit longer than I expected, but here it is!

Also, it seems like it’ll be taking me three weeks to release a chapter … :c I’ll try my best to be as quick as I can, but … college.

But in the mean time, if you want to have updates on my progress on my writing, go visit https://fb.me/affkeusjo ! It’s a FaceBook page I created for the sake of this AFF account; so far, there hasn’t been much in the terms of community activity, so please visit it and post something, ask me questions, and give me feedback on what I can improve on the page :D

Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading as always!