Heavy drops of rain splashed across Dahyun’s face. She stared up at the apartment tower looming over her, feeling herself shrink in comparison. Soaked to the bone and teeth chattering, still she couldn’t compel herself to take those final steps in to the building. The bonds holding her back were fabricated and flimsy, yet she couldn’t pull herself from their grasp, even with logic on her side.

Sana had said yes and given her an address, so obviously it would be alright, nay, expected for her to take advantage of that. But was Dahyun just imagining it or had there been hesitance in Sana’s voice? Maybe she didn’t want Dahyun showing up on her doorstep looking like a drowned cat. Maybe she was just being polite, giving the only appropriate response one could when they received a phone call from a near-stranger having a near-meltdown. Maybe this was the worst idea she’d ever had and she needed to turn around and go home before she embarrassed herself.

She shuddered, forcing those thoughts away. She hadn’t walked four blocks in the beginning of a storm just to turn back now. Anxieties be damned, it was cold and she was drenched and she was going to accomplish what she had set out to do. She took a deep breath, brushed wet strings of hair out of her eyes, and soldiered into the building.

The airconditioning of the lobby raised goosebumps on her arms. The room would have fit better in a private bank than an apartment building, or, at the very least, in an exclusive hotel Dahyun might be able to work at but never stay in. Marble columns like the trunks of ancient trees supported the vaulted ceiling, and the darkly-patterned walls were illuminated by an enormous chandelier dangling precariously above, heavy with enough crystal to make one reasonably fearful of its sudden descent. The front door shut behind her, muffling the blows of the storm, but the slam echoed loud enough to make her cringe. Dahyun toed forward cautiously, dripping water on the velvet carpet with every step, towards the giant, wooden desk at the center of the room.

The attendant didn’t look up from his computer when Dahyun reached the desk. She shifted her feet, fiddling with the straps of her backpack, wondering if she should cough or ring the bell on the counter or do anything thing other than shift back and forth on her toes like she needed to pee. The moment dragged on.

Finally, the man looked up, skepticism in his eye. “How may I help you?” he asked, with a tone that said, ‘Do I need to call animal control or will you leave on your own?’ Dahyun cleared , summoning all the courage she could manage.

“Hello, sir,” she said, in what she hoped was a steady voice. “My name is Kim Dahyun. I’m here to see Minatozaki Sana.”

He raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. “Is she expecting you?” he asked, picking up the phone receiver and dialing a number.

“Yes, she should be,” she said, but his attention had shifted before the answer left .

“Miss Minatozaki,” he spoke impassively into the phone. “There is a… guest here to see you.” The pause and the look he gave Dahyun were equal parts suspicion and disdain. She tried not to quail beneath his gaze. Not-quite-there noise could be heard from the phone in response. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Well, alright.”

He hung up the phone and turned to Dahyun, face inscrutable. She tried an awkward smile. It went unreciprocated.

“You may go up. The elevators are behind me and to your right. Miss Minatozaki lives on the 32nd floor, the door is right there when you step off.”

“Thank you,” she said graciously. He all but rolled his eyes and Dahyun decided it was best to go to the elevators now.

The reflective walls of the lift allowed Dahyun, for the first time, to really get a good look at herself. The sight that met her in the mirror made her cringe. It was no wonder the attendant hadn’t wanted to let her go by, she wouldn’t have either. Her hair was a mess, plastered with rain water to her face and neck, and her eyes still held the red-tinged remnants of crying. It looked like she’d broken down in her shower wearing a full school uniform. She pressed the button labeled 32 and turned her eyes to the ground.

The elevator shot up, and her stomach lurched, for more reasons than one. Alone in the elevator, it was harder to keep up the brave face. As the numbers on the screen counted her destination closer and closer, the realization that she couldn’t back out anymore began to settle deeper. She tried, in vain, to spin it positively, like the inevitability of this collision meant the worrying would be meaningless and she should just lean in. She mumbled to herself, rehearsing what she wanted to say when she got to the door, but the sentence fragments she managed to conjure didn’t form anything coherent. Claws of doubt scrabbled up her spine and tugged at the back of her mind.

The elevator dinged when she reached the floor, and she exited into a small, well-lit room. Halls led off on either side, but the door stood right in front of her, a number 2301 in burnished bronze glinting threateningly below the peephole. She looked at it and it seemed to stare right back, daring her to make a move.

She rubbed her hands together, trying to hype herself up. The few steps it took to close the gap between her and door were tentative, heavy with caution in the way one would approach a rabid animal, but they went by too quickly, until she was facing those daunting numbers head-on.

Come on, Dahyun, you can do this. You’ve made it this far, you just have to knock.

Fingers balled into a fist, she tried with all her might to raise her hand, but it stayed persistently motionless.

It’s just knocking on a door, you’ve done this a million times. Pretend you’re a girl scout going for that sweet, sweet badge and just knock.

The doubt started to crawl further forward, clawing towards the forefront of her mind. She beat it back, fist clenching tighter.

Just do it, Dahyun, you can’t keep stalling, you have to go for it, just do it, just do it-

She rapped four times quickly on the door before her courage could fail again.

Oh my god, was that too many knocks? How many times is it socially acceptable to knock on someone’s door?

There was the click of a doorknob turning, and Dahyun quickly pulled back her hand, leaving it dangling at her side, still clenched in a fist. The door cracked open and she gave a last desperate attempt to pull herself together, to prepare for the imminent collision. Of course, it was futile, because when the door swung open fully, and Sana was revealed standing on the other side of the threshold, Dahyun’s breath caught in regardless.

Sana’s school uniform was replaced by a leggings and an oversized pink sweater, a casual image that caught Dahyun off guard. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, revealing the smooth skin of her neck and collar bones. She tried not to linger on them, but looking elsewhere only brought her up to Sana’s face, hardly less distracting. Her features were clear of makeup and a gentle smile graced her lips. It could have been Dahyun’s anxious imaginings, but the light from the apartment behind her casting an angel’s halo across the crown of Sana’s head. The sight struck all nerves, all thought from Dahyun’s mind. She swallowed, any planned words of greeting lost.

Sana tilted her head in greeting. “Hi, Dubu.”

“ It was graphic to witness, Dahyun! Or should I say Dahyunnie? Do you prefer Dubu? God, it’s so greasy, I just hate hearing her voice.”

The memory hit Dahyun without warning, and suddenly she wasn’t standing in front of Sana’s door anymore. Chaeyoung was the one in front of her, complaining about the annoying girl who wouldn’t leave Dahyun alone, who gave her stupid nicknames and was making her life hell. What should have been friendly concern was expressed bitterly and selfishly. Before she could stop them, fresh tears began to prick at the back of her eyes.

Dahyun blinked quickly, trying to clear them before they could fall. She was back in the present again, and the reality that she was moments from sobbing in front of Sana kicked in. It did nothing to help the tears stop. Sana reacted instantly, smile breaking into a concerned frown, a furrowed brow. The first tear streaked down Dahyun’s face and then she started to cry harder, because you idiot, you’re crying in front of Sana and you’re a mess and she’s going to kick you out-

“No, wait,” Sana wanted to reach out, but held herself back, unsure of what to do. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Her voice wavered.

Dahyun’s screwed her eyes shut, struggling in vain with the tears that refused to stop their cascade down her cheeks. The memory of her lost friends and her embarrassment and her frustration, all pouring down her face and she was powerless  against them. She started to shake, feeling cold and exposed and alone.She brought a quivering hand up to cover her face and choked out through her sobs, “I’m, I’m so-”

Sana wrapped her arms around Dahyun’s shoulders and lead her into the apartment, then turned to close the door behind them. Without the support, Dahyun’s unsteady legs couldn’t hold her and she all but collapsed on the floor. Sana knelt, bringing her arms back around Dahyun, shielding her and cloaking her in warmth.

“Don’t cry,” Sana murmured against her hair, rocking her gently. “You shouldn’t cry.”

Dahyun swallowed down air, desperately inhaling the sugary scent of Sana’s perfume and grounding herself on the feeling of Sana’s hand rubbing circles into her back. She sniffed, trying to clear her head of the suffocating feeling of crying, just trying to make it stop .

“I’m sorry,” she croaked. “I’m-”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” Sana murmured into her hair.

Dahyun finally managed to catch her breath, clearing and wiping the remaining tears from her face with her already-soaked shirtsleeve. She drew out of Sana’s grasp, and though she immediately missed the warmth, she couldn’t bring herself to be any closer, to meet the other’s concerned eyes. “I’m sorry,” Dahyun repeated to the floorboards.

Sana looked on her gently. She kept a respectful distance and didn’t try to hug Dahyun again, no matter how much she seemed in desperate need of it.

“Look,” Sana said slowly, “it seems like you have something you need to talk about.”

Dahyun swallowed. This was it. This was when Sana let her down gently, told her with sweetened words to find someone who cared, and kicked her out on the street. Could she even blame her? Dahyun had interrupted her night for her own selfish reasons, and she couldn’t even get a word out before breaking into tears. No one wanted to deal with that. No one wanted to deal with her.

Bracing herself for impact, Dahyun nodded timidly.

“Okay,” Sana continued. “But right now, it seems like you might need some time to calm down, figure it all out. So how about we just hang out for a little, yeah? And we can talk later?”

The gratitude that welled up in Dahyun’s chest threatened to send more tears pouring from her eyes. Forcing them back, she finally raised her gaze to meet Sana’s.

In a weak, wet voice, she said, “That would be nice, thank you.” She couldn’t come up with the right way to express her thankfulness, but she didn’t need to. At her words, Sana instantly brightened up, as if she knew exactly what Dahyun was trying to say.

“Perfect!” Sana’s smiled returned to it’s home on her face. “This is great, we’re going to have so much fun.” Her joy sent bolts of gold shooting through Dahyun’s chest, and, impossibly, she found herself believing those words.

Sana sat back on her heels, the usual energy returned to her body. “Alright, first things first, let’s get you out of those clothes.”

Dahyun choked, face burning. Sana immediately backtracked, stifling laughter. “No, no, like change your clothes, and put on new ones, because it’s a school uniform and you’re wet- your clothes are wet, and cold, and you’re going to catch something...” She trailed off.

Beating back bashfulness, Dahyun nodded quickly, focusing determinedly at a point just behind and to the right of Sana, avoiding her eyes once more. She only looked up again at the sound of a chiming giggle.

“What?” Sana shook her head, sending her ponytail swinging. Dahyun’s heart skipped a beat.

“You’re so cute,” she said, by way of explanation. Dahyun’s heart stopped working altogether.

Sana stood up and Dahyun followed her hesitantly. Eyes cleared of tears, she could fully take in the splendor of Sana’s apartment. It matched perfectly the grandeur of the rest of the building. The furniture was white and spotless, built far more for style than comfort, and the art adorning the walls looked abstract and expensive. It looked like the kind of apartment that was listed in architectural magazines, that you admired and aspired to but never actually lived in. Though everything flowed and complemented, it felt more like a museum installation than a home.

Furthering the museum feeling, Sana began an impromptu tour of the place. “Welcome to my apartment. This is the living room,” she said. “We live here.” The living room led into a dining room, a gigantic table set for twelve in porcelain and velvet. Floor-to-ceiling glass would let in the sunrise in the morning, but was currently only letting in the storm.

“And there’s the kitchen,” Sana nodded to a door off of the dining room. “I’d have the chef make you something but it’s her off day.” She frowned apologetically.

“That’s, that’s ok,” Dahyun insisted with a stutter, more thrown off by the ‘she has a chef?’ thing than upset that said chef can’t won’t be making her any food.

Beckoning for Dahyun to follow, Sana walked down a hall leading away from the main rooms. It was long, stretching far past the limits of how large Dahyun expected a single apartment to be, but they stopped after only a short distance. Sana pushed the door open and allowed her guest to enter before her.

The first thing Dahyun remarked about Sana’s room was how it differed from everything else she’d seen the apartment. Instead of angles and sharp edges, the space had a muted softness to it. Stuffed animals were piled on the huge bed and fairy lights were strung up around the room. Polaroids showing everything from Sana’s friends and family to sunsets and waterfalls were taped up on the walls, inbetween posters for tv shows and bands. Though everything was probably just as expensive as the rest of the decor, it felt less… artificial.

“I like your room,” Dahyun commented.

Sana glanced around, like she was caught off guard by the statement. “Oh, thank you. It’s kind of a mess.”

“No, it’s not messy. It’s… cozy,” Dahyun settled on.

“Cozy,” Sana repeated, tasting the word on her tongue. “I like that.”

“Well,” Dahyun said, in mock seriousness, “I’ll let you use it, but you have to pay me royalties.”

Sana giggled and Dahyun felt that golden glow light up her chest again despite her freezing clothes. Remembering their purpose there, Sana ducked into her closet and the sounds of her rustling around could be heard. Dahyun was left hovering, feeling like any sort of glancing around was going to be an invasion of privacy. But really, what else was she supposed to do?

Her eyes landed on a polaroid of what looked like Sana’s friends, maybe a few years younger, sat around a table at a birthday party. Nayeon had frosting smeared across her face and seemed intent on getting at Jeongyeon, but Momo was holding her back with a hug. Jeongyeon was either bent over laughing or cowering from Nayeon’s attack. Probably a bit of both. A smashed cake sat before them all. Joy and nostalgia radiated from the picture, and Dahyun could understand what compelled Sana to take a snapshot. It was important to save those kinds of moments. Those feelings were more fleeting than anyone wanted to admit.

Sana emerged from the closet, holding a bundle of clothes, but stopped in her tracks when she saw what Dahyun was looking at.

“Cool photo, huh?”

Dahyun quickly backed away, apology on her lips.

“No, it’s okay. That was Nayeon’s 14th birthday. She was lording her age over us and wouldn’t blow out the candles, so Jeongyeon smeared the top half of the cake on her face. Momo tried to make it better by the frosting off but Nayeon would not be calmed.”

Dahyun chuckled, “Sounds like a lot of fun.”

“Yeah,” Sana said. “It was.”

The room was silent for a second, and Dahyun noticed the smile on Sana’s face wasn’t reaching her eyes.

“Anyways,” Sana went on, brushing past the pause, “these should fit you.” She passed the bundle over. “The pants might be a little long.”

“Hey, is that a crack at my height?”

Sana stifled a laugh with her hand. “You’re very… compact.”

“Excuse you,” Dahyun scoffed, “I’ll have you know, being tall isn’t all that. ”

“And how would you know?”

“I have it on good authority,” Dahyun stated. “You’re always running into door frames and things like that. My friend, Tzuyu-”

Dahyun flinched and cut off the sentence abruptly. She hadn’t thought before the words left and desperately didn’t want to start crying again. Sana didn’t notice or just brushed it off, but either way, Dahyun was thankful she carried on. “Whatever you say. I’ll leave you to get changed.”

The door clicked shut behind her. Dahyun inhaled, surveying the room she was left alone in. Sana’s room. In Sana’s apartment. Surrounded by Sana’s stuff. Holding Sana’s clothing. She exhaled shakily.

There was no room in Dahyun’s mind for something else to be anxious about, so she quickly rid herself of her worries and focused on changing. She unfurled the bundle to reveal a hoodie with a faded dance company logo on it and a pair of plaid pyjama pants. They fit her well enough; though, much to her chagrin, the pants were a few inches too long. She had to fold the waistband a couple times to save her pride. But the hoodie was worn and comfortable and felt like wearing a hug. A hug from a very specific person. She tried not to linger on that thought.

Leaving the bedroom, barefoot and carrying her sodden uniform, Dahyun padded back in what she hoped was the direction of the living room. As she exited the hallway, Sana emerged from the kitchen, holding two steaming mugs.

“You like hot chocolate, right?” Sana asked.

Dahyun nodded.

“Perfect, it’s like the only thing I could figure out how to make.”

Sana set the mugs down on the coffee table in front of the couch. Dahyun held up the clothing, trying her best to keep it from dripping onto the carpet.

“What do I…” she asked, trailing off awkwardly.

Sana’s eyebrows shot up in realization, and she relieved Dahyun of the uniform. “I’ll leave them hanging on the door, they’ll be clean by tomorrow.”

“Fancy,” Dahyun remarked, tentatively wiggling her eyebrows.

Sana tilted her head, giggling. “It kind of is, isn’t it? Anyways, have a seat wherever you want, I’ll be back in a second.”

Dahyun nodded and glanced about the room, trying to find the place to sit that would plunge her into the least amount of debt if she somehow broke it. She settled on the couch, perched at the edge.

Her eyes wandered the room, so foreign to her own living room that she was experiencing something like culture shock. There were no shoes lying on the ground, old newspapers strewn about. The coffee table was clear of any drink rings. There wasn’t a single family picture.

It was a wholly ostracizing feeling. Dahyun couldn’t help but wonder if more than just her decoration sense would be unwelcome here.

She focused on one painting, an abstract piece that looked like it was painted by a toddler with their feet. It probably cost more than her rent. Before she could stop herself, she remembered a conversation she’d had with her friends, way back when she could still call them that.

Tzuyu huffed. “You can’t have a seizure on a canvas, call it art, and charge people $250,000 for it.”

“You don’t think abstract art is actually art?” Dahyun asked.

“It’s just splashing paint on any flat surface. My dog could do that.”

At this point, Chaeyoung butted in.

“No, you don’t get it. It’s not about the colors or the methods, it’s the feelings.”

“Well, I feel it’s stupid to spend a fortune on the lunch someone spilled on a piece of paper.”

The spat that followed that conversation might have been the biggest fight they’d ever had. Until that afternoon.

Maybe Dahyun should take up art. She certainly had enough feelings.

Sana entered the apartment again to find Dahyun staring at the painting. She picked up the mugs and pressed one into Dahyun’s hands, breaking her from her pondering.

“The painting’s kind of awful, right?” she commented, settling into the couch herself, her own hot chocolate cradled in her hands.

The scent of the drink tugged Dahyun from the brink of emotion, and she smiled, making light. “Yeah, that’s kind of what I was just thinking. I wouldn’t want to insult your home decoration though.”

“It’s hardly my decoration,” Sana said sardonically. “My parents paid some professional to do it all.”

Dahyun hummed, the concept of paying someone to design your home seeming a little creepy to her. But she decided against comment, taking a sip of her drink. It was silky and the warmth spread comfortably through her body.

“Do you paint?” Sana asked.

“Nah,” Dahyun shook her head. “It’s never been my thing. I used to eat crayons in kindergarten if that counts.”

“The sign of a true artist,” Sana exaggerated. “There was Van Gogh and his paints, Dahyun and her crayons.”

Dahyun chuckled, then sighed dramatically. “Of course, the signs were there all along. But, tragically, my art career never made it past that step. I play piano, though.”

“Really?” Sana asked, intrigued. “That’s so cool.”

Unprepared for the reaction, Dahyun deflected. “It’s nothing. I just think it’s fun, I’ve been doing it since I was a kid.”

“No, seriously, that’s really cool,” Sana insisted. “What kind of thing do you play?”

Starting to realize this might not be a prank and might in fact be genuine curiosity, Dahyun proceeded with hesitance. “Anything really, pop covers, classical pieces. Whatever strikes my fancy.”

Sana groaned. “That’s so impressive. My parents tried to make me play when I was younger but I kept getting confused and I never hit the right keys. I’m not very coordinated,” she explained, like it was new information.

Dahyun suppressed a laugh. “Uh, yeah, I figured.”

Sana pouted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The first time we ever met was because you fell on top of me.”

“Excuse me,” Sana scoffed, affronted. “That was entirely your fault. You completely ignored the wet floor sign and the person clearly stopped in front of you. And I happen to know you already had a track record of not conducting yourself properly in the halls.”

“Gosh, that morning really is going to follow me forever, isn’t it?” Dahyun bemoaned. “Well, fine, what about when I saw you get knocked out by a basketball?”

Sana paused, mouth open to retort, before closing it in embarrassment. “Maybe it was not an isolated incident,” she admitted sheepishly. “But it was totally Momo’s fault for throwing the ball when I wasn’t looking.”

“Oh, excuses,” Dahyun declared, but the seriousness of the moment evaporated and they dissolved into giggles. Dahyun found herself settling deeper into the couch, allowing herself to be casual.

Sana covered her face with her hands, cringing through the laughter. “I can’t believe that actually happened.”

Dahyun quirked her head to the side. “I can’t believe you’re actually embarrassed by it.”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t be embarrassed by it?”

“Well, no, don’t get me wrong, I definitely would be,” Dahyun said. “But I tend to be embarrassed most things, it’s not surprising. I just wouldn’t expect you to be.”

Sana looked up humbly. “Well, as glad as I am that the front I’m putting up is working, you hang around me long enough and you’ll see just how embarrassed I can get.”

They had never really talked about how they’d met or how awkward Dahyun could be. Somehow, by acknowledging it, Dahyun felt imbued with courage. It didn’t always have to be scared, little Dahyun running away from popular, pretty Sana. Sure, that happened, but it was in the past, and it was funny, so why not reminisce on it from a new place with confidence?

“You know, I mostly get embarrassed when I’m around you,” Dahyun said.

“What?” Sana gasped. “Why?”

Dahyun wasn’t fooled for a second. “You know why.”

Sana dropped her act of shock. “Okay, maybe I do know why,” she said. “But you don’t have to be.”

Dahyun looked off for a second, thinking. “That’s the weird thing. I’m not really. I mean, not as much.”

And she wasn’t. Dahyun thought about how she was was when she first met Sana. Sprinting down hallways in avoidance, not even being able to speak. Look at how far she’d come. She was filled with a weird kind of pride.

Playing off the introspection she had just fallen into, Dahyun chuckled. “It’s probably just because I know you’re a secret loser who sleeps with stuffed animals and has a Sailor Moon poster in her room.”

Sana gasped, offended. “Hey, don’t disrespect the scouts. They played a key role in my self discovery.”

Dahyun snorted. “Jeez, what were you using that poster for?”

Rather than be offended by the comment, Sana seemed to swell with delight. Dahyun eyed her suspiciously.

“Kim Dahyun, as I live and breathe,” Sana said, voice filled with wonder. “Did you just make,” she looked around and moved to a whisper, “a ual joke?”

Dahyun shoved Sana’s shoulder as she fell into a fit of laughter. “Oh, shut up.”

“What happened to my innocent freshman Dahyun?” Sana cried in despair through her giggles.

“Come on,” Dahyun groaned. Blush dotted her cheeks. “Shut up,” she repeated.

Sana calmed, thousand-watt smile settling onto her face. “See, I can still make you embarrassed.”

Dahyun coughed, affronted, but it was of no use. Sana wouldn’t let up, and she looked so pretty when she joked, Dahyun didn’t really want her to.

They carried on like that for what felt like hours. Time could hardly be tracked by the sun, as the storm continued to firmly batter the windows, but the world outside steadily shifted to darker shades of gray until they could imagine it was night. Regardless, they spoke without interruption, about school or tv shows or anything really. But the topic of friends was never touched upon. Dahyun had collected herself as much as she could, was prepared to avoid the topic with incredible (questionable) skill and precision. But the conversation never seemed to flow in that direction. She was thankful, don’t get it wrong, but it was interesting. Maybe they just wanted to enjoy being with each other.

In a way she could’ve never imagined, Dahyun found herself growing comfortable. It was just something about Sana’s presence. It filled the stark, sharp room with a glow. There was so much warmth and light and comfort, all anxieties and fears and sadnesses seemed washed out. With every minute their conversation continued, the Dahyun’s reason for being there seemed more and more distant, until it was so easy to believe that maybe she was just there to hang out with Sana. To share some time with a girl, no longer some untouchable figure, just a person whose presence she could enjoy without shame.

They were in the middle of a debate over which Avenger was the most powerful when a noise broke through their solitary little bubble.

Their heads turned at the sound of keys scratching in the lock on the door. It swung open to reveal a distinguished older man, wearing a suit and a bedraggled expression. He had the same nose as Sana and she stopped talking altogether, ready to receive his greeting. These were the only indications that he was her father. Without saying a word, he walked straight through the living room, not looking up from the phone in his hands.

Dahyun looked to Sana, trying to gauge the situation, but Sana just brushed it off. “Hi, Dad!” she called out.

“Hello, darling,” he replied distractedly, frowning. He walked through the door into the kitchen, and then a groan could be heard.

“Sana, where is the cook?”

“Today is her day off.”

Another groan.

Dahyun started to feel a bit uneasy. The father and daughter continued to communicate by shouting across the apartment.

“Are you going to be out tonight?” Sana asked.

“Yes, sorry, I have a meeting across town, I’m just stopping by to grab something to eat. You’ll have to figure something out for dinner.” He emerged from the kitchen, hastily prepared sandwich one hand, phone in the other.

“It’s okay, we’ll find something.”

“You do that,” he said, and then seemed to comprehend the sentence his daughter had just said. He looked up, and appeared shocked when he saw Dahyun sitting on the couch.

“Sana, who’s this?”

Caught off guard by the simple question, Sana and Dahyun looked between each other. Dahyun shrugged nervously.

“This is Dahyun,” Sana said, turning back to her father. “She’s my…” She bit her lip, not knowing how to continue. Because, really, what were they anyway? What was the word for the girl you flirted with at school, and on the bus, and at a party, but never really talked to until she showed up crying on your doorstep?

“Friend,” Dahyun filled in, in a surge of confidence she wouldn’t have been able to explain to you.

“Friend,” Sana repeated, then she smiled, satisfied. Dahyun blushed. It sounded different when Sana said it.

Whatever significance the two girls applied to the word was completely lost on Mr. Minatozaki, as another notification lit up his phone and he shoved half of his sandwich into his mouth.

“That’s nice, dear,” he said, muffled. “I have to go. You can order food if you’d like.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Sana said, but he was already walking across the room and out the door.

The interaction seemed to be over in the blink of an eye, leaving Dahyun feeling like she’d just had a brief hallucination. The only thing Sana’s father had left in the apartment was the air of awkwardness.

Sana focused on her phone, typing in an order for pizza. The tension lingered, growing more unbearable with every silent second. Dahyun took a stab at breaking it.

“Is he always like that?”

Sana didn't look up from the screen. “Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Dahyun searched for the nicest way to say what she meant. “On the go?”

“Oh, yeah, I guess he tends to be pretty busy. But don’t worry, my mom’s even busier.” It might have been an attempt at humor, but it fell flat and Sana moved past it. “It’s fine, though, I don’t spend a lot of time at home. I’m normally out with friends or whatever.”

Dahyun didn’t have a response to that. The silence threatened to creep back in, awkwardness tailing close behind. So she did as one often does when confronted with empty space and filled it with self-conscious rambling.

“If earlier, I overstepped, you felt weird when I said I was your friend,” she stumbled over her words. “I know we have kind of a weird relationship.”

Sana looked up, brow bent in confusion. “No, no, I didn’t feel awkward. I was just kind of surprised that you would consider me your friend. You didn’t overstep.”

“Oh,” Dahyun said, feeling dumb as a sack of rocks. “Okay, cool.”

Sana continued in sincerity, “I really like spending time with you.”

“I like spending time with you, too.”

“But,” Sana said, and that word made Dahyun’s stomach drop to her knees. “I am still wondering why you called today. As much as I would love to believe you just wanted the pleasure of my company, I don’t think that’s it.”

Dahyun had to look away, pressing her fingers to her temples and taking deep breaths. It was the conversation that needed to be had, that weighed over the entire night and filled her with unbearable dread. Because no, she couldn’t just be hanging out with a girl and ordering pizza and watching a movie. She had to be an inconvenience.

“I feel so selfish,” Dahyun started. “I just came to your house with all my problems and I-”

“No, you’re not selfish,” Sana cut her off, pulling her hands away from her head and into her own lap. “I want to help. I want to be your friend.”

The pressure of the moment threatened to send Dahyun into another bout of tears. She hesitated, grounding herself on the feeling of Sana’s hands in her own.

“Come on,” Sana prompted gently. “You can tell me. What’s up?”

Dahyun looked up, met her eye. Something that might have been strength creeped slowly up her arms.

“I found out that Chaeyoung and Tzuyu are dating today,” she admitted. “They have been for awhile apparently. And I’m kicking myself for not noticing and I’m mad at them for not telling me, but most of all, I’m just scared.”

She tried to gauge Sana’s reaction to the news. Her face was painted with emotion, but it was indecipherable. Maybe too affected for just hearing about secondhand friends’ dating life, but then again, Dahyun had started a screaming match in public, then had a breakdown, so maybe it wasn’t affected enough. She didn’t ask for an explanation, but Dahyun continued anyway.

“I’m scared of what it means for our friendship. What if they break up? If they grow apart or start hating each other? Will I have to choose between my two biggest friends in the world? But even before that. Do I have a place with them anymore? I might be funny or kind or nice, but I’m not a girlfriend. It might never come to me choosing between them. They could just leave me before I’d have to.”

Dahyun was putting up her greatest effort to keep her eyes in check, but when she looked at Sana, she saw tear tracks cutting down her cheeks. She almost stopped, reaching out to offer comfort, but got waved off.

“Keep going,” Sana said, voice strained, barely above a whisper. Dahyun nodded.

“I yelled at them today. I saw them kissing through a cafe window and I don’t know what came over me but I started laying into them. None of it was what I really wanted to say. It was impulsive and hateful and it’s not like it was unprompted, but it wasn’t right. Tzuyu tried to stop me from yelling, but Chaeyoung responded and,” Dahyun’s voice caught in . She remembered what Chaeyoung’s response had been. She couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I should have listened to Tzuyu. I should have stayed and talked reasonably and listened their side of the story. But it just hurt too badly. If they could lie to me for months, how am I supposed to trust their explanation? But now I guess I don’t have to worry about them leaving me. I guess I made that decision for them.”

“Oh, Dahyun.”

The dams broke and the hardest tears of the night came coursing down Dahyun’s face. This time she leant into Sana, sought out for herself the comfort of her embrace and her scent and her warmth. She was not disappointed.

“Why did I do that?” Dahyun choked out to Sana’s collarbone. “I was just so afraid that everything would change, that they wouldn’t want to be my friends anymore. Why did I do that?”

Sana rubbed her back, and Dahyun tried to match their breathing patterns, but Sana’s seemed nearly as erratic as her own. She brought her arms up, wrapping them around Sana’s ribs and clinging tight.

“Shh,” Sana soothed, voice shaking. Pulling back, she cupped Dahyun’s face and wiped the tears from her cheeks, wiped her own tears away in the crook of her elbow. She took air as fast as her lungs would expand, desperate to be the strong one, to be the support Dahyun needed her to be. This wasn’t about her. And yet, it so deeply was.

“That makes sense,” she said. Dahyun’s damp eyes turned quizzical. “What you’re saying. Not about them not wanting to be your friend, of course not. But about being afraid of change. That… that makes a lot of sense.”

She couldn’t talk about what had happened that day. She wasn’t ready to share that, even if the entire school was probably already buzzing with their own versions of what had conspired in the cafeteria. Dahyun probably already knew about it too. Sana wasn’t ready to explain the months of turmoil and inner conflict that culminated in that afternoon. But if anyone was going to be able to help her deal with it, even without knowing, it was the girl sitting on her couch, wearing her pyjama pants and a hoodie Momo left at her house years ago.

“Change is a scary thing,” Sana began, “and when people get scared, they do stupid things. They might say things they don’t mean, hurt those who don’t deserve it. But you aren’t judged by the stupidest thing you do. You deserve… we all deserve better than that. It’s not about what you say when you’re scared, it’s about what you do when you find your courage again.”

Dahyun blinked, taking in what Sana was saying to her. She started to nod, clearing her nose with a few sniffs.

“Maybe you should talk to Chaeyoung and Tzuyu about what happened. They probably don’t know the depth of your feelings, what it meant to you that they lied. They might think you’re overreacting or lashing out for no reason. And you’re not, I swear to you that you’re not doing this for no reason. But you have to tell them that reason. It can’t just end here. You can’t let it end here.” Sana took a deep breath, regaining her balance, clearing the desperation from her voice. She smoothed out her furrowed brow, tried to summon a smile to cover the mess that was her face and her feelings. “Okay?”

Dahyun studied her, the tears that mingled in her starry eyes, the sadness that lingered despite her best efforts. She pulled Sana back into the hug, and this time the grip around her ribs was reciprocated.

“Thank you,” she sniffed. “For the advice. And for everything else. Letting me come over and giving me clothes and everything. You didn’t have to.”

“I know I didn’t have to,” Sana cracked a shy smile. “I wanted to.”

“Still,” Dahyun insisted. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Sana said. She leaned back. “Don’t feel like you have to act on everything right now. You’ve still been through a lot today. You should sleep on it, figure out what you want to say.”

Dahyun nodded, but hesitance stilted her movements. Sana continued, “You know, keep hanging out with me, because I’m just, super cool.”

Dahyun snorted. “Oh, I couldn’t imagine leaving,” she said seriously. “I mean, this couch is the nicest thing I’ve ever cried on, I don’t think I’m ever moving again.”

“It’s only the couch?” Sana asked with raised eyebrows.

“No,” Dahyun said. “It’s also these clothes. Just look at them, the absolute peak of fashion.” To accentuate her point, Dahyun popped the hood of the sweatshirt like a collar, only succeeding in making the entire thing crooked.

“They do look cute on you,” Sana said, but her voice lacked any of Dahyun’s sarcasm. She reached out, straightening out the hoodie. Her hand lingered on Dahyun’s collarbone, and bolts of electricity traced up Dahyun’s skin from where Sana’s fingers rested. There was an appropriate amount of time for the pads of Sana’s fingers to remain, and that moment came and went.

Dahyun brought her eyes up to Sana’s and the world muffled. It was like that moment next to the pool, but there was no one to interrupt them now. Dahyun’s party attire was replaced with a faded sweatshirt, but she wasn’t any less alluring. Any excuses Sana might have found during or after the party—alcohol or adrenaline or anything —were silenced. It was just them, sitting at the edge of an unknown moment, and Dahyun’s wide eyes, still red but no less entrancing, daring her to figure it out.

The apartment intercom buzzed to life.

Dahyun drew back, almost throwing herself to the other side of the couch. Sana’s mind was stuttering, trying to recover from the whiplash. Hadn’t they just? And they were going to? But the moment had passed without so much as a farewell, and she only allowed herself a second of confusion before getting up to answer the call.

While Sana talked to the concierge on the other end of the line, Dahyun tried to calm down. Calm her frantic breathing, her racing heart, her scrambling mind. This couldn’t happen. It could happen when she was a flustered nerd at school, when she was drunk off the energy of the party, but it couldn’t happen now. Now she was comfortable and happy and warmed to the bone. Now Sana had finally agreed to be friendly. This couldn’t happen.

The pizza man arrived at the door, soaking wet and toting two large boxes. Sana tipped him well and sent him back out again, with a reminder to zip up his jacket and protect himself from the rain. She returned to the living room, Dahyun seated cross-legged at the far end of the sofa. The atmosphere had evaporated, leaving behind only empty space.

“I got pineapple on one of them, but the other is just cheese if you don’t like that,” Sana said, setting the boxes down.

Dahyun lifted her eyebrows, aghast. “I’m sorry, you what?”

“I got pineapple-”

“You’re trying to poison me?” Dahyun pressed a hand to her chest. “Here I was, thinking we had bonded. I’m sorry for insulting Sailor Moon, it doesn’t have to come to this.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sana giggled. “I’m going to get napkins, pick something for us to watch on Netflix.”

Sana left the room and Dahyun prayed she had seemed casual enough. She fumbled with the remote for a few minutes, and when Sana returned, she blamed the fancy technology over her shaking hands. Eventually they got settled, Sana nestled into the corner of the couch with a blanket across her lap and Dahyun perched at the center, steadfast in her refusal to get comfortable. They ate their pizza, the distance between them filled by the cheesy action/romance Sana had decided on. Soon the pizza was gone, but the distance was not. Sana started to yawn.

“You look cold,” she remarked. Dahyun startled. The plot of the movie had not been incredibly consuming, but her own thoughts worked well enough.

“What?”

“You look cold,” Sana repeated, and before Dahyun could insist she wasn’t, there was a blanket thrown over her legs and a body pressed against her own. Sana pulled the band out of her ponytail, sending waves of brown cascading down her shoulders. She linked their arms and got comfortable, mumbling tired nothings as she got situated. Unable to keep her eyes away, Dahyun snuck a look. Sana looked sleepy and satisfied, her head tucked into Dahyun’s neck. Dahyun mourned for all the progress she’d made in her bashfulness. One look washed it all down the drain.

The movie reached its halfway point. Sana was nearly snoozing on her shoulder and fatigue was tugging at her eyes, but Dahyun felt restless.

“Hey, it’s getting late.”

Sana gave a sleepy grumble, nestling her face even further into Dahyun’s neck. Her breath puffed against Dahyun’s skin, causing red to burst across her cheeks. The darkness hid it, but Dahyun knew it was there and cursed herself for it.

“I should probably head home.”

This time the grumble was a little whiny and accompanied by a soft tug as Dahyun tried to scooch out of her embrace.

“There’s a storm,” Sana said, voice groggy.

“We have school tomorrow.”

“Do you have homework?”

“No.”

Sana gave a little huff. “Your uniform will be washed in the morning, I will drive you to school, come back here.” She tugged again, and Dahyun found it impossible to refuse. Sana latched onto her like a koala and began to snore softly.

Sleep tried to sneak up on Dahyun as well, but her mind was going fast enough to outrun it. She shouldn’t be feeling like this. She couldn’t be feeling like this. She wasn’t drunk, Sana wasn’t being overly flirtatious, she was just being herself. So why was her heart fluttering? Why did it feel real?

The more Dahyun thought, the harder it was to ignore. In all honesty, she’d never been drunk, maybe just a little nervous. Sana had come on strong for a little while, but Dahyun had felt just as fluttery during the sincere moments, where she wasn’t trying at all. What was that supposed to mean?

The protagonist onscreen pulled his love interest close, pressing their foreheads together while a timer ticked down. They kissed, and their silhouettes were illuminated as an explosion rocked the world around them. Dahyun looked down, following the features of Sana’s relaxed face. The curve of her eyebrows, the expanse of her eyelids, the arch of her nose, the softness of her lips. And Dahyun indulged herself for a second. Let delusion carry her to a world where Sana was flirting with her for real reasons, because there was mutual attraction and a desire to be closer to each other. Where Dahyun came to her house every afternoon, for no other reason but to spend time with her, and they laughed and cuddled and maybe even kissed.

One second in that world was enough to let Dahyun know she never wanted to live anywhere else.