Yuri

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A sharp pair of scissors tended to alleviate the pain.

That is, scissors and a booklet of coupons.

At a ripe two in the morning, Kwon Yuri crept to the sturdy oak desk, switched on a single lamp, booted up her laptop, and snipped through multicolored rectangles of savings.

It was her ritual on nights like these. When her brain wouldn’t shut off; when the sting between her legs made sleep a distant memory. When fifteen percent off a hand lotion brand she wouldn’t use composed the 28-year-old. Through a nestled set of earbuds, she rewatched the latest episode of her favorite comedy, memorizing lines she and her best friend would recite back-and-forth for the next century.

The studio loft’s layout allowed ample sunlight (and currently, moonlight) as well as a proper floor space for post-party get togethers. Not optimal for privacy, though. Easily, she could see the arc of a furniture set, kitchenette, dining table. And Taekwoon.

Six feet of boyfriend lightly snored in their bed. Shirtless with his back to the lamp’s subdued glow. Hair as black as her own sloshed onto the blue of his pillow.

Twenty-one times. She’d slept with him twenty-one times and it hurt more and more every go. After the third round of his strong body stilling her breath, predating a hardness probing for entry, she pretended to enjoy . Taekwoon, as conscientious as possible, went out of his way to keep his touches tender. Didn’t make a difference. Feeling him—stretching within her like an invasive, benign growth—tempted her to join a convent. She hated .

Yuri smirked as the show’s lead actress spilt a plate of spaghetti onto her boss’ white linen pants.

Dating Taek had been easy. His timid smile, sky-grazing posture could make any girl with a pulse swoon. Yuri was no exception, lapsing into a mini heart attack when he introduced himself at a party. They did that disgusting thing where couples became inseparable, leading her to move in with him after years of deep courtship. On one hand, it helped her immensely to move out of that shoebox she once called home. On the other hand, close-quarters boosted to the top of his unspoken wishes.

She held off until she couldn’t, concerned about why she stalled for this long. Sure, her status had played a part. Furthermore...

Yuri’s thoughts trailed back to the comedy. Her favorite character, the lead’s neurotic cousin, finally snagged more screen time lately. Her backstory as a closet otaku delivered all the humor promised. Yet, tonight (and nights prior), Yuri silently admired the actress’s droll expressions and the crinkles at her corners of her eyes and lips. She probably laughed often in real life. Yuri respected actresses who weren’t too vain to contort their faces, to lose their eyes in a hard chuckle.

In fact, this actress did ads for big label skincare products. Yuri flipped the 15%-off coupon in her fingers, reconsidering. Beauty stores normally handed out freebies by the purse-load and she wouldn’t mind supporting a fave. Sometimes, they threw in small posters of promoting stars and Yuri could get lucky...not that she’d tack it up anywhere.

Yuri appreciated beautiful women. How could she not? They were mainstays of every billboard, commercial, and even cutout forms at the shopping centers near her job. This appreciation had existed for ages. Though, admittedly, it had magnified since she and Taekwoon physically became one.

Taek took good care of Yuri, patiently pacing their lovemaking so she’d have days in-between to recover, attributing her discomfort to the newness of it all.

Something about her body being trespassed, filled with foreign flesh, sapped her tolerance for intimacy. It’d break Taekwoon’s heart to know how the likes of a kiss or accidental brush as her could prick tears to her eyes. Because Taek didn’t deserve to feel inadequate for wrong with her.

So, she kept at it. For Taekwoon. And to prove to herself that this was the right path. She shouldn’t have been getting squeamish over close contact. Her best friend, Sooyoung, swore the pain would turn into pleasure. Yet, Yuri still rejoiced the nights Taek was too spent to exert any ual energy.

Yuri paused her show, tiptoed to the bed, and appraised her boyfriend. His sleepy face was a dream. Thick lips drawn into a pout, windswept hair soft and healthy.

She feared touching him. What if he woke up, found her awake, and initiated something? Once, he suggested oral—for either of them—and she hyperventilated. He hadn’t broached the topic since. Yuri’s visceral rejection flogged his feelings; she could tell.

Yuri stared, warring to want him. To want this. She wanted her body to ache with arousal and not need copious amounts of excuses, reassurance, and lubricant. Cringing, she crossed out the recurring image of Taek disposing of their used condoms. Knowing that’d happen again eventually. As soon as the end of the week.

She sighed and reclaimed her seat. Forecasts predicted much post- coupon clipping in her future. Nights of reflection and pining for ladies she’d never kiss.

...

“So, I push him away like, ‘I’m not interested’ and he asks, ‘Why not?’ because obviously my disgusted face was ineffective.” Sooyoung, Yuri’s best friend and coworker, blabbed away as she shoved a handful of mini ceramic gnomes onto a sales rack. “I’m not racist or anything, but ugly men should know better.”

Yuri grinned, spinning the little statues face-forward. “Ugly isn’t a race, Soo.”

“Duh, but he may not know.” The spindly woman stood to full height and patted dust onto her store apron.

“Did you have a good time?”

“Not really. That crowd was dead. A douche in a visor kept buying me drinks.”

“And you blessed him with a dance?”

Sooyoung shook her head, lively pinkish bob swishing like a Pantene ad. “Too ugly.”

“Racist.”

Giggling, they pushed their cart of emptied boxes to the massive arts and crafts store’s backroom. Work always went smoothly with a friend at her side. As of late, Yuri felt more at home restocking paint sets than in her and Taek’s apartment.

“Going out again this weekend?” Yuri asked as she unlatched the metal door to the compactor.

“You bet. Han has some homo, clandestine trip with his bro-ish childhood buddies and I refuse to sit around like an old spinster.”

Sooyoung and her fiancé (who went by his surname—it just fit) of four months had an interesting dynamic. Somehow, the stars aligned for the two party animals to fall in love, move in together, and surprise their friends and family with an engagement. Unlike lovey turtledove couples, they spent their free days hitting up town separately. Sooyoung to her usual bars and clubs; Han in kind to his own. They planned to flap their social butterfly wings at full force until marriage’s ball and chain clamped onto eternity.

Yuri found it strange, often questioning the relationship in the first place. Sooyoung answered plainly, asserting that trust kept them bonded. After meeting through Taekwoon, they’d dated for two years without major roadblocks. She’d grown accustomed to going home to someone every night.

“You don’t question what he does on his trips?” Yuri asked. Taekwoon would never be down for a similar arrangement. Too loosey-goosey. “Han’s a flirt.”

Sooyoung smirked. “And I’m not?”

“He doesn’t mind?”

“My god, you need to exercise your freedom.” Sooyoung idly ripped a discarded label while Yuri unloaded the cart. “Why should we dictate each other’s lives? We’re not clergymen.”

“It was only a question.”

“One too many questions. Where’s Taek to deeply occupy your mouth?”

Hardly thinking, Yuri shuddered. “No, thanks.”

“Trouble ensues in Penetrationville, huh?”

Yuri knew their conversation would steer that way eventually. She bought herself time, pulling a lever for the boxes in the compactor to be crushed. “Nothing about it appeals to me, Soo. We should be all over each other and I’m faking s.”

“Yikes.”

“Is it supposed to hurt that badly?”

Sooyoung scoped the area before lounging on a stack of recalled lawn ornaments. She patted the concrete lily pad next to her. “Sit. The doctor is in.”

As silly as it seemed, Yuri lived for her Choi Sooyoung-sanctioned sessions. Their perspectives differed, but it helped her think outside her timid bubble. She leaned into the gentle arm wrapped at her shoulder. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“Maybe you’re not wet enough. Try lube.”

Yuri groaned, pulling away. “We do.”

“Is he too long?”

“Soo...”

“Too wide?”

“It’s not about his size, Sooyoung.”

“Are you sure?” She raised a suggestive eyebrow. Apparently, Soo had settled on her own narrative.

“It’s beyond that. I don’t even want to kiss him anymore. When he gets undressed, I turn green because I assume we’re about to do it. I’m making myself ill.”

“Yikes,” Sooyoung repeated.

“Doesn’t help that we live together. I can’t escape it.”

“Stay at my place for a few. Tetris misses your belly rubs.”

Thinking about Sooyoung’s dopey bull terrier, Yuri tried to smile. She couldn’t. “Taek’s happy about taking us to the next level. Asking to go backwards is...”

“Out of the question.”

“Precisely.”

Sooyoung rested her chin upon her fist. Her statuesque thinking pose.

It was one of the moments Yuri remembered that her best friend was gorgeous. A pert, rounded nose. Healthy, nifty-colored hair. Long limbs. Huge, expressive eyes...

Ashamed, she redirected the gaze to her black mid-tops. “Hey, Dr. Choi.”

“Yes, patient?”

“Do you ever think about girls?”

Sooyoung squinted, eyes still trained ahead. “In what way?”

“You know. ually.”

“I’d Nathalie Dormer. Han calls her my ‘lesbian hall pass.’” Sooyoung met Yuri’s frown, titling her head. Realization slowly rearranged her expression. “Just because with one guy doesn’t mean you’re gay.”

Yuri peered around the stockroom, thankful for the privacy. “Would you go out with a girl?”

“Would you?”

Her shins hit the concrete seat in irregular beats. “Possibly.”

“Hm,” Sooyoung replied, scratching her faux-doctor chin. “Then, you should explore that, no?”

Yuri lifted her dark eyebrows. “Explore what?”

“Women. You might be into girls, right? Or am I horribly off?”

“I...god, Soo.” Yuri shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Looks like you and I have plans this Saturday. Meet some lesbians and see if you’re even attracted to them. ‘Cus breaking up with Taek over nothing would make life awkward.”

Yuri’s pulse fluttered; this was moving too fast. “What if—”

The double doors to the room flew open. Both associates sprang to their feet, relieved to see Jea, their favorite manager, and not one of the hardass supervisors.

“Backup needed at the registers, you two,” the bespectacled women called with a smile. “Save the heart-to-heart for your lunch break.”

They grinned sheepishly, rushing past her. As they speed-walked through the huge expanse of Craftie’s Warehouse, Sooyoung nudged Yuri with an elbow. “How about her?”

“Jea?”

“She’s hot as the stoves I don’t use.”

“She’s like, forty-two.”

“Mature women are the iest.”

Yuri gritted through a smile at a passing customer. “Why do I regret telling you?”

“Too late. Might as well deal.” Sooyoung searched her shirt for the name tag she often misplaced. “Thi