“You haven’t asked him yet? Seungwan, we’re leaving in an hour!”

Wendy winced, pulling the phone away from her ear a bit. She threw more socks into her luggage, and, with a shrug, tossed in an extra pair of shoes. “It didn’t come up in conversation! I’ll talk to him soon. Don’t worry, Joohyun, please--”

Irene rolled her eyes on her end of the call. She wiped her hands on her apron, swapping her phone to her other ear. “Don’t you ‘Joohyun, please,' me. Is he your husband or your father? You are coming, aren’t you?”

“Of course!”

“Then act like it!” Irene snapped, and it might have become a heated argument if Wendy didn’t know about the smile on Irene’s face, couldn’t practically hear the expression.

“I have it under control. See you in an hour—and try not to miss me too much,” Wendy snorted, shuffling through her shirts. What did two best friends pack for a trip to the mountains?

Irene shook her head, begrudging affection lacing her tone. “I’m leaving with or without you, Seungwan, don’t test me.”

“Love you too,” Wendy grinned, and ended the call. She looked around her room, scanning for any last-minute things to pack—because really, who knew what they might need? She threw in a book, her hairbrush, and stared blankly at the small handgun her husband had given her, “For when I’m gone,” he’d said. “You’re always gone,” Wendy had muttered under her breath, and after that—well, she didn’t love remembering about it, really. With the pistol held gingerly between two fingers, she tossed it in her luggage, too. What the hell, right?

It wasn’t until forty-five minutes into the drive that Irene brought him up again. “So what did you tell him?” she asked, turning the radio down. She signaled to the right, taking an arbitrary exit to fill the tank.

Wendy had her head out the window, eyes closed. “Who?” she asked, absentmindedly, resituating herself properly in her seat. Irene hadn’t seen her look so relaxed in years.

Irene quirked a brow, following signs for the nearest gas station. “Your husband? ”

“Oh, him,” Wendy said, and they both laughed because--that’s funny, right? “Well, you know. I just didn’t tell him.”

Irene nearly hit the curb as she pulled into the station. Mouth agape, she hissed, “You what?”

Wendy shrugged, still laughing. “What do you mean, ‘what? ’ He would’ve never let me come, and, to be honest, he probably won’t even notice I’m gone.” Irene pretended not to care about that, or how much better Wendy deserved, because she had been saying those same things since the day the man had proposed to her, and yet Wendy still wore the damn ring on her finger. She wondered if he knew how lucky he was.

She doubted it. He had no idea.

“I can’t believe you,” Irene replied, smiling a little to offset the sudden tension. She rolled down the window before getting out of the car. “What is he going to say?”

Her friend kicked back in her seat, rolling her eyes. “Whatever he wants. Nothing I haven’t already heard, I’m sure.” Wendy’s eyes slid past Irene, and she sat up suddenly, a dull twinkle in her eyes. “Wait.”

“Oh no,” Irene murmured, rifling through her wallet, letting the sound of gas entering the tank fill her hesitation. “What’s behind me?”

“A good time,” was all Wendy said, pointing.

Begrudgingly, Irene turned and stared warily at the sign. “Joy’s... Watering Hole ,” she read, apprehension growing with each syllable. “That sounds wrong on… multiple fronts,” she added. The neon sign was certainly bold, and the chalkboard listed quite a number of questionable items. A cartoon revolver winked, the speech bubble saying, Play a round of Russian roulette shots! Will you get the tame whiskey, or the hot Bacardi 151?“‘Tame whiskey?’” She rested her forearms on the windowsill. “Seungwan, I’m not so sure…”

“We can finally let loose for once in our lives! Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“It’s a bar, Seungwan. Since when did you like going to bars?” She sighed. “Maybe if we weren’t driving for another--” Irene checked her watch, “--four hours tonight.”

“Make it four hours tomorrow,” Wendy pleaded, and--, Irene’s never been able to say no to those eyes. “There’s an inn right across the street. It’ll be fun!”

Wendy squeezed her eyes shut after downing the fourth shot—which, at least, went down easier than the first three. Cringing, she bit into a lime slice.

“Any more for you girls?” asked the girl behind the counter, and Wendy couldn’t help her grin in response. She was cute, definitely, and Wendy hadn’t had fun in a long time. “What would you suggest?” she said, wiping her lips with her thumb.

The girl—Joy, claimed her name tag, and Wendy wasn’t going to argue with that—unashamedly watched Wendy the remnants of salt from her hand. Her eyes slid to Irene next to her. “I would suggest you girls realize how many eyes are watching you tonight. Not often we see new faces around here. Visiting town?” Joy asked.

Irene shook her head. “Just passing through tonight.”

“Well,” Joy grinned, spreading her arms, gesturing grandly to the establishment. “You’re here, and now you’ve seen everything there is to see in this dump. Yeri—Yeri! Hey, Kim Yerim!” A girl on the other end of the bar, hands full with a towel and clean glass, glanced up.

Joy gestured for her to come over. “Visitors! Crazy, right?”

Yeri brought over the overly clean glass, snickering. “Unfortunate, more like.”

“Are you legal?” Wendy blurted, cringing at her words, but not taking them back. Next to her, Irene visibly cringed, too, and turned toward her.

“Seungwan,” she hissed, and slapped her arm. The sensation felt delayed. “You can’t just ask people that.”

“I meant about serving alcohol! Jesus, Joohyun.”

Yeri’s snicker turned into a hearty chuckle. Her elbow collided with Joy’s side, forcefully playful, or playfully forceful. “I like them, though.” She grabbed a bottle of beer in each hand, putting one in front of Irene, and then Wendy. “Can we keep them?”

Joy snorted. “For their sake, let’s not. And—oh, great.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked in the space between Wendy and Irene. She folded her arms, straightened her posture. “What do you want, pal?” she asked, voice raised and all amiability gone.  

Wendy felt Irene’s apprehension grow as she chose not to turn to look at the newcomer.

“I heard there’s some new sights to see,” said the man, and Wendy crossed her legs uncomfortably. “This seat taken?” he asked, one hand gesturing to the empty seat next to her, the other suddenly on Wendy’s shoulder.

“Yep,” Irene said, sliding her beer to the empty seat and moving to swap seats at the same time Yeri nodded and hopped over the bar.

He silently leveled his gaze at Yeri, who had thrown herself into the chair, then Irene, who was still standing, and then Wendy, his hand still lingering on her shoulder.

In response, Wendy raised her eyebrows, tilted her head, and pointedly brought her cup to her lips.

“Listen. I’m going to need more of this--” Irene held up an empty shot glass--“if I’m going to have to look at you all night, and I really don’t need more shots,” she said, carelessly putting the glass back down. She waved, smug when the man silently stalked off, his beer and ego depleted.

Wendy nodded appreciatively, putting down her glass. “Beautifully executed. Who was that?” The question was directed at Yeri, who was returning the beer to Irene’s hand.

“Bad news,” Joy explained with an exasperated eyeroll. “A real creep. We’ve tried to ban him more times than Yeri can count—“

“Hey!”

“—but local authority is having none of it.”

“Let me guess,” Irene sighed, “something about girls ‘asking for it,’ right?”

Joy let out her breath in a tired huff. “Yeah, guess it’s really just wishful thinking to assume the rest of the world is any different.”

“Yeah,” Irene said quietly, tapping her empty glass against the table.

“Let’s dance,” Wendy found herself saying, because she couldn’t bear to look at Irene in that state when they were at a bar, for god’s sake. She was already standing up, grabbing Irene’s hands and pulling her away.

“I think we’ve had a lot to drink,” Irene said, when her feet hit the floor and the world started spinning. Unfortunately for her, Wendy’s energy was contagious, and she wasn’t exactly putting up a good fight.

“Exactly my point. You’re the best dancer I know. Now come on.”

If Wendy was drinking to forget her problems, she must have been doing it right, because Irene has never seen Wendy dance like that before. From the reactions she was garnering from the crowd, it was also clear that she was gathering the attention of more eyes than Irene had the patience to deal with. She really was too sober for this night--which wasn’t saying much at all, given that she didn’t feel any bit sober.

Later, when Irene would look back on this night, she’d recognize that thought as the first in a long series of mistakes.

Before she knew it (but admittedly, the whole night was foggy), Irene had become a broken record. “Have you seen my friend? Light brunette hair, bangs, black tee? About this tall? No?” Irene felt like she had scoured every inch of this crowded bar, asked every group of people. Seungwan, where are you? She was assuming the worst, and that was enough to jolt her out of her haze. A gust of cold, fresh air hit her face as she throw open the back doors. Her heart dropped when she saw two figures hovering in the parking lot.

So maybe Wendy was a little tipsy, but she wasn’t drunk enough to not notice his wandering hands. She put her drink down on the hood of the car.

“Please don’t touch me,” Wendy said, steeling her voice and shoving away the man’s arm. “I’ve already asked you, leave me and my friend alone.”

“No big deal, sure,” the man said, moving his arms away, but not his body. “We can take it slow. Your friend can join us later, if she wants. You seem like the type to like sharing.”

Wendy raised a brow, feigning an unimpressed facade, damping the unsteadiness in her voice and the fear starting to pump through her blood. She pushed herself off the car, folding her arms in front of her, and, a distance away, Irene’s feet were moving before she even registered it. “Not interested,” Wendy was saying, as the guy slid into the space between her and the car. “I’m sure there’s other women in there who would love to have your attention,” she tried--Wendy was always taking the diplomatic route, and Irene didn’t have the patience for this.

“She said to not to ing touch her,” Irene said, stopping mere feet away from the two. The corner was secluded, and Wendy was used to looking at Irene, but she stared, wide-eyed, at the barrel of the gun--her gun--in her hands.

Her voice was no more than a whisper, throat caught on fear and adrenaline. “Joohyun?”

“You’re not going to shoot me,” he scoffed. He took Wendy’s drink, downing it for himself. “You’re both so full of —”

Two things happened at once: The man reached his arm out toward Wendy, an absolutely acridic leer on his face, and Irene pulled the trigger.

It wasn’t like what Irene had read in books, about things seeming to happen in slow motion. Before she could let out her breath, the man was on the floor, and Wendy was spattered with spots of his blood.

“Oh my god.” Wendy clapped a hand over her own mouth.

Joohyun still held the gun in front of her, unblinking. Her arms were still tense from the recoil, ears still ringing from the bang. The barrel smoked gently, like a fresh cigar. “Get in the car, Seungwan.”

“Oh my god, Joohyun, you shot him.”

“Get in the car .”

“Oh my--”

“Seungwan.”

“S-sorry. Right, I… right.” Wendy mechanically opened the passenger door, getting herself into the seat with as much grace as a wooden doll. “Oh my god.”

Irene found herself stumbling backwards, bumping the back of her knees on another car. She stayed that way for a second, staring into the wide, unblinking eyes of the man, before climbing into the driver’s seat and shoving the pistol into the cup holder. “We have to go.” She pulled the car out of the lot, choosing an arbitrary direction to speed down the highway. The steering wheel shuddered, and Irene wasn’t sure if it was a bumpy road or if her hands were still shaking.

An indeterminate amount of time passed as both were too lost in their own thoughts to share. When Wendy finally found her voice, she whispered, “Where are we going?”

“You should tell me to go to the cops,” Irene murmured, instead of answering. She clenched her jaw, mind racing through words like alleged andconvicted and lifetime in prison. “I should turn myself in.”

“You know why we can’t,” Wendy said. “No one would believe me. They’d say I was asking for it, or that I’d promised him something, or I’d dressed wrong. I’m so sorry, this is all my fault, I shouldn’t have...” Her voice faltered. “I’m so sorry.”

“‘We?’ You’re not--you don’t have to be a part of this. It’s not your fault.”

Wendy rubbed her face with her hands, sighing deeply through her fingers. Her voice was quiet, but firm in a way Irene had never heard before. “Don’t insult me, Joohyun. Where are we going?”

Irene glanced to her right, chest and grip on the steering wheel tightening. “Come again?”

“We can’t really go back, can we? It’s just you and me now.” Wendy still wasn’t looking at her. “Where are we going?”

The sky was darkening, and tall evergreens whipped past the windows. It was a long moment before Joohyun replied. “We could leave the country.”

“Okay,” Wendy said. “Sure.”

“Okay,” Irene echoed, and drove.