K_Morpho: Sorry for the delays! Posting this on the whim after much trial and error.

 

---

 

V.

Here I remained, guilty for wishing upon the staggered stars.

Alone in this inkstone hollow, I called from my prison bars,

From its twisted temporary space, waking to swallow

my tremoring chords. There you listened, embracing. Chasing to follow

those weathering words. And waking, you quickened. You came.

Mistaking my voice for all the same

whisperings in your ear; these unknown

echoes carved into your mind, curved into your crown,

persisting— I fear were never mine to claim.

There I named you a fool. Though this story had already begun

long before our first meeting under that afternoon sun,

where you’ll happen upon me trapped beneath your feet.

Greeting me with barbed roses clasped between your teeth,

stolen from your sisters’ garden. You’ll come again and again, asking for pardon.

Filling up my well with fairy metal trinkets and tales to bargain.

They fell, fallen like tiny rains, sinking stars all around. And

Rising with the water to the nocturnal sound, I wet my lips.

For your heart, my rose dear, smudged in our eclipse,

became visible in just one look. Like a fish hooked onto your hue.

It is difficult to take my eyes off

the star named you.

 

---

 

Sunday has come again.

Unsatisfied, Hyunjin fishes another kit kat from her confectionery jar, adding to the number of times she’s looked up from her writing. She draws a limited pumpkin edition from her candy-lottery. It’s the last bar she’d been saving since she purchased all of her snacks with Ara.

Already feeling warmer at the memory, Hyunjin sniffles through her stuffy nose and quietly slides the candy out of its wrapper. Pumpkin spice chocolate is a good remedy for colds. (It’s got cinnamon, right? Cinnamon’s good for congestion.) She must’ve gotten one sleeping with the air conditioner on, and to no fault of her own, woken up early with the rain because of it.

That and the vivid dreams she keeps on having but can’t remember the details to.

She couldn’t go back to sleep and hadn’t exactly been keeping track of time then, but now it’s 6:48 in the morning. Hyunjin had spent that time sitting at her table, staring at the water droplets accumulating through the window that she couldn’t fully close. Which was ok on the occasions like today that the grey sky conveniently cries on her potted plants.

Not wanting to leave her watch spot and having nearly studied out of boredom as she waited for the sun, she quickly moved onto inventing her own language.

Loose cursive characters started more as an exercise in penmanship had since disintegrated into cat-bread doodles, accented with eyebrows, and alphabetized in the calendar grids of her planner.

After what could’ve been half an hour rehearsing the different intonations of ‘aeongs’ to her glaring-gluten glyphs, Hyunjin finally felt inspired enough to return to her poetic scrawlings.

She may have promised something of a consistent update to her pen pals, but Hyunjin hasn’t had much luck filling in her latest letters. Something was missing.

She vacantly pushes her paper around with the rubber end of her pencil, towards her Munhak Dongnae Poets collection abandoned with her stack of assignments on the left side of the table. To her right sits a box of hoarded postcards and yellow-eared envelopes, hiding remnants of melted wax on the table cloth.

A tall glass of water and white candy jar is perched besides the tiny box, close by her writer’s hand.

If one cannot create, one must consume. Munching on her prelude-wafer, she wrings its plastic sleeve companient, eyes milking the orange ingredients label for inspirational components:

Sugar, vegetable oil, wheat flour, nonfat milk, corn syrup solids, lactose (milk), chocolate, natural & artificial flavor, artificial color, lecithin (soy), salt, yeast, baking soda, tocopherols— Huh.

No cinnamon.

A symphony of sweetness dances on her tongue but soon its absence leaves a bitter aftertaste.

Hyunjin decides she’s had enough of chocolate. She washes everything down with a gulp of water. Standing up to stretch, Hyunjin places her emptied drinking glass on the top of the mini fridge. Her phone vibrates in sync with her movements.

HEEJIN: hey, you’re working today right? i want cheesy pasta and haseul says she knows a good place. i’m swinging by bab later to pick you up if you want lunch with us.

Averting a smile at the glowing screen, Hyunjin quickly texts back once she realizes how much time had lapsed and rushes to get ready for her short morning-to-noon shift.

HYUNJIN: i’ll be there!

There’s a crash.

(Butterfly echoes of clinking crushing porcelain, smears of nocturnal ink in the folds of her paper forest. Bent and blooming fog, humming the untouchably dangerous song of secret longings. Curiosity sets her notes on a hungry open flame— its corrosive light, bleaching shadows, shines GUILTY in her heart.)

Hyunjin jerks as the memories distort her senses. Momentarily aggrieved by the stringent taste of powdered metal and rot, the ashes quickly dissolve in her saliva. She swallows thickly, and nothing remains.

Her voile curtains, billowing from the sudden gust of wind, stay afloat for a few seconds too long in the stale air.

Hyunjin’s wilted red roses lie crushed beneath its white porcelain vase. She crouches down to fish the flowers from the crumbling wet soil and shattered pieces of ceramics.

Hyunjin honestly wishes her visitor would find less destructive ways to call for her attention.

Light breaks through the clouds above and pools into the room. Hearing the shadows come to life as it swats at a bouquet of loose leaflets behind her back, she turns in time to see her tidy stack of stationary spill onto the wooden panels below. She catches her pencil just as it’s rolling off the table with stunning reflex. And the cat, frozen with a single paw on her tiny box, doesn’t so much as flinch.

Today’s cat is different, but it’s always the same character. She knows—

(In this moment, small greed reunited,

we are strangers, eyes lit by the gleam of stars.)

Hyunjin smiles at the familiar pair of yellow eyes. “You never let me see how you come in.”

She reaches out to pet the feline but it slips away from her attempt, flashing a vexful look that she is far too acquainted with.

“It’s ok, since you brought the sun with you, I actually have something for you today.”

Locating her planner, Hyunjin snaps a picture of the key cipher from her calendar to save on her phone. She transcribes three cat-buns on the front of a clean envelope, tears out the month of February, and tucks it neatly inside.

Watching its tail flicker from side-to-side as the cat the envelope shut, she takes the opportunity to coddle the appeased courier.

From “How have you been, Lovely? What a cute face.” to “Why’re you so big? Ugh, you shed so much.” the cat squirms with a cascade of fur on Hyunjin’s lap, increasingly eager to escape.

“Ah, wait.” Successfully shirking off its excess coat, the cat pauses mid-slink, staring back intently at Hyunjin with the cosmos in its eyes. “Please let her know that I’ll try harder to remember the dreams next time. Trust me, ok?”

A of its ears and twitching whiskers. Her messenger shows no further signs of acknowledgement before vanishing out of the window with her letter in its mouth.

At least it’s kind enough to show how it leaves.

Hyunjin shuffles about in the aftermath. Collecting her belongings off of the floor, she shoves her drafted poem into a red handbag, and runs off to catch the train and the returning grey showers.

 

---

 

Hyunjin’s work shifts go by slower nowadays.

The sub-in employee at the front desk doesn’t click with Hyunjin’s humor, dry in a way that’s achingly familiar and somehow not. He’s just another college student from her university who knows a thing or couple about sports, who knows Hyunjin by name, face, and ability― she’s someone to be looked up to and admired.

Basically, Hyunjin isn’t interested in conversation, and she’s a little bored. She tries to make up for it with extra theatrics in Whiskers’ usual antics, shaking off the sensation of her skin buzzing with pent-up energy.

She picks kids up. She twirls them around by the ankles. She apologizes to irate parents when children throw up their double dutch ice cream in mall plants, then passes time with something safer.

She engages in a round of wrestling with a child, using the strewn about cotton ursidae. It’s just enough to work for today.

She spies Heejin through the window of the Build-A-Bear; a fatal error, and now her bear is caught in a Boston crab. But Heejin is here! Scurrying to the backroom, Hyunjin shimmies out of her costume, changes into her jeans and muscle tee, and bolts it out the door five minutes before her shift is meant to end, barely nodding goodbyes to her coworkers.

Heejin wears a brown jacket over a simple white t-shirt, finishing off the simple yet stylish fit with black jeans and a guitar case by her feet. She looks up from her phone when Hyunjin bounces forward with approval, a grin tugging at her lips. “Hey Heejin! It’s been a while. Have you been waiting long?”

Heejin rolls her eyes, setting her phone down on the table. The nine tiled squares suggest sudoku. “We see each other all the time on campus, nerd. And no, not really. I’ve only been here for a few minutes.”

Heejin’s mood has improved drastically since her breakup two weeks ago. Hyunjin’s relieved to see her wear an open, amused expression, faux-annoyance given away by the twitch of , and the detached indifference in her eyes is more like a distant dream than a concrete memory.

Hyunjin rocks back on her heels, watching her sub-in coworker take over the wrestling match, watching people in general, before turning back to Heejin. “You said we were meeting Haseul, right?”

“She’s running a little late. We’re going to be meeting her there instead.”

“You could have texted, and dropped off your guitar at your dorm,” Hyunjin points out. “I wouldn’t have minded meeting you guys there.”

Heejin shrugs loosely. “I wanted to walk with you. Who else are you going to annoy?”

They’ve come a long way from Heejin crying into an ice cream sundae. Heejin laughs at Hyunjin’s pout, swinging her instrument onto her back as she stands, and sporting a sly grin that holds Hyunjin’s heart at gunpoint. “Ready when you are, Hyun.”

 

---

 

“Sorry. I was catching up on sleep,” Haseul smiles sheepishly, once they get settled down at their table. Heejin in her window seat, Haseul besides her, and Hyunjin across from the pair.

Haseul looks good in casual: green bomber jacket with black hugging jeans and a band shirt Hyunjin thinks Ara’s been in― which is a thought she’s not sure she wants to pursue― and her usual spectacles. Given the circles under her eyes, she probably needed the extra half hour of rest.

“You’re fine,” Heejin says. “What do you recommend?”

“So if you turn the page...” Haseul points out several dishes that would best suit Heejin’s palette. Hyunjin’s brow raises at their selection.

“You and your obscure restaurants,” Hyunjin says, bemused. Haseul grins and sends a finger heart.

“You love it.”

They place their orders with little fuss, Hyunjin picking out whatever sounded the best (beef bourguignon) and Heejin ordering along to Haseul’s suggestions.

“How have you all been?” Haseul asks after the waitress leaves.

“Hyunjin and I have been exploring different places to eat,” Heejin muses, chin in palm. “I’ve been craving something new.”

Heejin doesn’t have the same affection for the stores she used to frequent. There’s something significant in that, but it’s a thought to return to later.

Hyunjin shrugs, blowing the paper covering off of her straw towards Heejin. “Decent. But today was good.”

“Mainly because I was there,” Heejin says, before retaliating. Her straw wrapping lands halfway across the table.

Hyunjin in air through her teeth. “Well…” At the sight of Heejin’s pout she cracks a smile. “You’re right. Work’s just been harder. School’s been harder, too. I wish it would just―”

She makes an explosion sound effect, complete with hand twinkling.

“I didn’t think you struggled with school,” Heejin says.

“Maybe hard was the wrong word. It’s more tedious than anything.”

“I’m in agreement,” Haseul says. She twists together their paper straw wrappings into a double helix. “Effort is difficult to come by near the end of the semester.”

Heejin’s brows are furrowed. She’s about to say something, but is cut off when their food arrives. She reaches for the cheese shaker and adds until the pasta is barely visible through the cover of her snowstorm.

“You want some pasta with your parmesan?” Hyunjin asks dryly.

“This is the best way to eat it! Don’t judge.”

“Uh huh…” Hyunjin takes a spoon to her own dish and takes a bite. She delights in the foreign taste, making happy noises. “Oh, this is really good. How do you find these types of places, Haseul?”

Haseul smiles. “Sometimes I miss the food in America and get a craving.”

They make idle chatter, Hyunjin and Heejin weedling Haseul into divulging her adventures in Denver. Most of what they get is food, facetiming Yeojin, language struggles, and more food.

“I got to watch a lot of American films. The theatre was located right next to the uni, and my friend had a projector set-up in her dorm.”

Hyunjin perks up. A cinephile? “What’d you watch?”

“Moonlight. Paris is Burning… I showed her The Handmaiden.” Haseul spins her own utensils absentmindedly as she recalls the reactions of her friends.

Hyunjin’s smile grows wide and splitting. Haseul’s a queer film enthusiast. She amends the thought onto her other collected notions about the woman. “I love horror.”

Heejin blinks. “We were sobbing at the horror house two weeks ago, Hyunjin-ah.”

Hyunjin waves a hand. “That’s different. I like books and films.”

Controlled fear, in a controlled environment. Curled underneath her blankets, headphones on fullblast, and after it’s done she’d be jumping at her shadow for a week. Oh yes. (Tears and snot may or may not be included, but it’s part of the package.) It’s like death without the dying, and she’s always been a thrill-seeker.

Heejin tilts her head and eats another forkful of pasta. “What’s the appeal?”

Hyunjin’s breath catches as she looks down at her half-eaten beef bowl.

There’s so much she could say. She could force the world to a standstill and talk about gothic literature alone for hours.

“Horror is…” she starts slowly, “about the things that scare us because we can’t comprehend them.”

It’s not enough to encompass her love for the genre. Somehow, Hyunjin thinks Haseul and Heejin understand anyway. She smiles tentatively.

“But honestly? When I was 15 I thought Sadako was hot,” Hyunjin says. Haseul lets out a sharp bark of surprised laughter, Heejin doubling over her food. “I still think she’s hot. I’d set up a dinner date in front of my vcr with scented candles and buttered popcorn before she kills me.”

“Sadako feeds on human fear,” Haseul points out. “Assuming she could be bribed with― with home cooked meals, killing you would be counterintuitive.”

Hyunjin gapes. “Oh my god, you’re right.”

“If she’s trailing after Hyunjin she doesn’t really have fear to feed on,” Heejin says, twirling her fork.

“My love is like protein. Carbohydrates for the telepath.”

“Cholesterol for the soul,” Haseul says, adding to Hyunjin’s enthusiasm.

“If I were a ghost crawling out of a 10 foot well, I’d appreciate your cerebral egg whites and yogurt love.” Heejin clutches both her hands over her heart.

Hyunjin laughs into her cup of water to hide a flustered smile. “That reminds me. Ara and I have been putting off watching the movies. When she comes back we should all watch together…?”

Heejin pales. “Only if we watch with the lights on. I want to see your horror lover.”

“She leaves me on read, but I’ll woo her eventually.”

“I’d love to watch with you as well,” Haseul says. Her brows knit together momentarily, hesitating to speak. Hyunjin wonders if she should ask, but Haseul’s expression disappears once the waitress comes by with her two cheesecakes to share.

Heejin sneaks several bites. Hyunjin shovels the other half into her face, letting out a muffled “what” when Heejin smiles and pokes at her puffed up cheeks. Haseul hands Hyunjin a napkin while packing up the rest of the dessert.

When the waitress returns, Heejin and Hyunjin both reach for their respective bags, but Haseul slides out a black credit card first. “I’ll pay for this meal. Thank you for the lunch date, Heekkie, Hyun. I needed a breath of fresh air.”

Heejin clasps her hands together, bending her head down slightly. “My wallet is relieved, unnie. I love you.”

“We should be the ones thanking you,” Hyunjin says.

Haseul waves a hand. “Thank Heejin for all of her whining. I forget to feed myself sometimes when I’m preoccupied with a project.”

Hyunjin can’t say she relates, but she understands.

“What have you been working on recently?” Heejin asks.

“I’m not sure. I’m just experimenting with arbitrary materials and properties.”

“It was fun meeting up, and I’ll pay you back one day,” Hyunjin says, still rummaging through her belongings. “I haven’t forgotten about last time with Ara, either. Just put it on my tab.”

Haseul’s expression turns inquisitive again. “Actually, Hyunjin. Have you been able to get in contact with Ara?”

Other than a cryptic message with vague details about how she was going to be staying in Hong Kong longer than she originally planned, it’s been radio silent from the other woman. Judging from Haseul’s disposition, Hyunjin expects she hasn’t heard anything from Ara, either.

Hyunjin’s a little irritated, but mostly worried. Haseul, unnervingly, must have read something in her face. “Ah, I see. I’ll let you know if I hear anything. You’ll do the same?”

“Of course. Would it kill her to text?” Hyunjin grumbles. Her ruffling inside her handbag becomes a little more incessant.

Haseul manages a smile as she packs up. “She’ll talk to us when she’s ready, I’m sure.”

Heejin says, turning to Hyunjin. “Are you ready to go?”

Hyunjin finally just groans, recalling the keychain hanging innocently from where she changed out of her mascot uniform, next to the cat helmet. Her head thunks against the back of the sofa. “I left my keys at the Build-A-Bear.”

 

---

 

The duo hustles back to the Build-A-Bear after Hyunjin confirmed that her keys were still there with a quick call to her manager.

Hyunjin spares her coworkers a haste acknowledgment before she scampers into the backroom. Heejin trails after her curiously, the lollipop she grabbed from the diner clacking once against her teeth. There isn’t much to look at beyond stacks of boxes filled with deflated animal plushies, extra cotton stuffing, and an old, out of use stuffing machine.

Hyunjin sighs, finding her keychain hanging from the same hook her helmet hangs from. A painless venture, if a useless one. Heejin plays with one of the deflated animals leftover from last Christmas season, prodding at reindeer antlers bent in awkward angles.

“Why’d you get this job, Hyunjin?”

“It was just a fluke,” Hyunjin admits.

She remembers it like it was only a couple of months ago: She was running away from mall security, stolen nerf guns in hand, and set the water fountain on fire as a distraction before ducking into the Build-A-Bear. Ara, like the crooked angel she was, hid Hyunjin underneath the counter, and then helped Hyunjin land the job because there weren’t enough employees.

“It’s close to the university and pays well enough. Being a mascot didn’t sound that hard, either.”

Heejin peeks curiously at the helmet. “Can I try it on?”

“Sure.” Hyunjin reaches for the cat head on the side, grabbing the paws after a brief contemplation. She helps Heejin put it on, slotting it onto her shoulders with little hassle.

“Hello, Whiskers.” Hyunjin waves at the mascot.

Heejin curls her hand into a loose fist at her chin. “In all levels including physical, I am a cat. Aeong.” She does a familiar little dance routine. “How do I see in this?” Her voice comes out muffled by the costume.

Hyunjin smothers a smile. “You get used to the impaired vision. Hold on, try to follow me.”

She claps to her far right. Heejin tentatively reaches out, only for Hyunjin to shift to clapping on the other side. Heejin lumbers after her.

“You can do better,” she teases, ducking under the slow lunge. She can imagine the puff of Heejin’s cheeks under the mask. Heejin suddenly pounces after her, stumbling into a mountain of cardboard boxes kept besides the stuffing machine. Hyunjin’s hand darts out to keep her balanced.

“You’re more like a puppy in a cat’s body,” Hyunjin says. Clumsy and cute.

“I don’t understand how you move in this thing. It’s heavy,” she says with one hand gripping onto Hyunjin’s arm.

“It took me a couple of days to get used to it, too,” Hyunjin laughs. It pitters off when Heejin shifts to grip onto Hyunjin’s shoulders. She raises a brow as she looks into the impassive mascot’s chocolate orbs.

“Are you okay, Hyunjin?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem… distracted.”

Hyunjin takes the moment to think.

She’s been restless recently. Usually she’d blow off steam by working out, but it’s hard to keep routine with her gym buddy if the woman’s in Hong Kong.

“I’m fine,” Hyunjin says when the silence stretches. She’d shake it off eventually.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Heejin drops her hands. “Okay.”

...It’s a little awkward. This is why she’s the one in the cat costume, playing cat therapist, no matter how much Haseul jokes about toxoplasma gondii via fursuit cat sweat.

Heejin plays with the ends of her sleeves. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I’ll try to be a good listener.”

...But Heejin isn’t half-bad at playing the part. Hyunjin’s eyes soften.

“I know. Thank you, Heejin. This is enough.”

Heejin shrugs in an attempt to be casual. “If you say so. I was worried.” She hesitates. “I just want you to know I appreciate you. I couldn’t have asked more from you as a friend.”

Hyunjin’s heart drums a steady tempo.

“I’m glad we met. I’m glad we got to talk.”

Hyunjin swallows, and in a burst of overwhelming affection, she crosses the distance between them to cradle the mask in between her hands, and plants a kiss atop its nose. Heejin freezes, shoulders stiffening up to her ears, and the feeling of elation sinks like an anchor from her heart to the bottom of her feet.

Hyunjin retracts her hands. Face burning hot. Heejin stays stock still for another moment before she forces her body to relax. She struggles to take off the mask before Hyunjin steps in, removing it in practiced efficiency. The cat head returns to its original hook, and Hyunjin meets Heejin’s eyes with great effort.

Heejin’s fidgeting with the ends of her jacket, face flushed from the heat of the costume, uncertain and hesitant in a way Hyunjin rarely ever sees.

She wonders if she should apologize, dragging her not-so subtle attraction out into the open, the one she’s now pretty sure Heejin was purposefully oblivious to. But apologizing would make it too real. Heejin opens ―

There’s a bang on the door that makes them both jump.

“Did you find your keys, Hyunjin?”

“Yeah!” she calls back. There’s an exclamation of recognition in return.

The tension dissipates. Heejin picks her guitar back up, strapping it slowly to her back. Her cheeks are still flared red from wearing the mask. Inexplicably Hyunjin worries about how prone Heejin is to heat exhaustion.

Something flashes in Heejin’s eyes. “Follow me somewhere.”

 

---

 

There’s a new distance between them as they wander through the park. It’s a popular location for couples when the white carnations bloom in late spring. For now, only the occasional strangers pass through. Hyunjin watches two blonde women pass by, both wearing eyepatches before her gaze moves towards the sky.

Night approaches in smooth lavender and sorbet blues, not yet dark enough for the streetlamps to flick on. A light breeze sweeps across the treeline, sending a rustle of leaves and petals into the walkway. Hyunjin feels compelled to lace their fingers together and see if they could touch the clouds.

But the kiss lingers in between them, emotions stacked on top of the impulse, and it’s enough to stop Hyunjin from doing anything rash.

It’s hard to tell what Heejin’s thinking. Her expression has been ambivalent, contemplative ever since they left the Build-a-Bear. If Hyunjin ruined things between them she’d probably cry.

“Let’s sit down here,” Heejin says. She nudges against Hyunjin, tugging at her sleeve to pull her into a field of grass, still damp from the earlier rain. Her fingers graze across Hyunjin’s hand. The action is deliberative, calculating in a way Hyunjin can’t place, but the tension unravels from her chest. Maybe they’re okay.

Hyunjin settles down next to Heejin, watching her bring out the guitar from her case. She plucks at the grass, grabbing by the handful and pulling it out of the ground as Heejin picks lightly at her guitar.

“Hey Hyunjin.” She looks thoughtful.

“Yeah?”

“You said you played guitar before.”

Hyunjin mentioned it casually on one of their previous lunch meetups; she picked up the guitar, when she was in high school and needed something other than sports to pass the time. She was good at it, but―

“I haven’t played in a long time.”

“Do you know any songs?”

“I…wrote a song… once…” It helped spark her writing muse, then she started writing full time instead. Heejin’s eyes light up nearly gold in the sunset.

“Do you remember how to play it?”

Hyunjin bites her lip, her resolve already putty underneath Heejin’s gaze. “I can try.”

Hyunjin adjusts and readjusts the instrument in her lap. She hums under her breath to recall the old tune. Muscle memory guides her movements through the chords, fingers stinging, trembling from nerves and the weight of Heejin’s stare.

She makes the mistake of looking up. Heejin’s features are soft in the receding light, everything subdued except for the nervous half-smile, half-smirk she has on around a new lollipop. Watermelon pink.

“You’re really cute today. Serenade me, Hyun.”

Hyunjin messes up immediately, face heating up. Her loss of finger strength dulls out the chords. She never quite recovers but smooths it out enough into a passably endearing rendition:

“I can't get my courage up. I just leave again, without a word.”

Had past-Hyunjin known she would one day be expected to play guitar for a pretty girl she would have kept with the music business. As it is her fingers have a mild ache, her voice is a little rough, and she feels kind of like a loser.

Heejin claps after the performance regardless, eyes wide as if Hyunjin had handed her the moon itself, and not a struggling, fumbling song.

“You wrote that? That’s amazing!”

Hyunjin feels her ears go pink. “It’s not a big deal. I had the words and sound for ages…”

“Give yourself some more credit. Maybe you should be the one in BBC.”

Hyunjin laughs at the thought. It looks like they’re back to how they usually are after all. Her nerves slip away like water through her fingers. She hands the guitar back to Heejin. “It’s your turn to serenade me now.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Hyunjin rolls her eyes, laying down on the grass. Heejin clears , and strums to prepare herself. She pauses to spit out the finished lollipop into her wrapper.

“This is the song we recorded in the studio. It’s one of my favorites.” Then she starts to sing.

“You, I dream of being with you. Dreams of singing with you.”

Her voice hums in the space in between them, soft and fluttering. Hyunjin closes her eyes, enjoying the remnants of sunset, and the wind that blows through, petals carried on the breeze. She could probably doze off listening to her voice. It blankets snug around her head.

Heejin holds out the last note, ending the song. Hyunjin hums softly from beside her, the melody captured in the space between them.

“You’re an incredible singer,” Hyunjin says honestly, looking at the sky. “I could probably listen to you forever.”

The singer looks down, bearing a hesitant smile at her. “You’re flattering, but I’m not losing my voice for you.”

Hyunjin chuckles, pushing herself up to a sitting position. “Actually, can I ask you something? Did you always want to be a singer?”

“Pretty much. I loved Girls’ Generation since forever. I made my parents sit through so many of my performances…”

Hyunjin tries to imagine a smaller, pigtailed Heejin dancing along to Gee for the 200th time, much to her parent’s chagrin. “That’s adorable.”

Heejin laughs. “Thanks. I guess it was always expected. Is there anything you want to do?”

Hyunjin hesitates, frowning.

“It's ok. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

“It’s fine, I’m just thinking.” Hyunjin hurriedly assures, biting her lip. “I’m not so sure yet. I don’t have to really… try, to be good at things. Like, basketball or sports. I don’t even need to really study to get by in school.”

Heejin plays a mild tune on her guitar, and it helps fill in the silence. It’s a nostalgic melody, one Hyunjin remembers hearing but can’t quite put her finger on.

“I used to bounce back and forth between a lot of extracurriculars because none of them would hold my interest. I was so antsy as a kid.”

“Oh. Is that what’s happening now?”

Hyunjin blinks, before a shy smile tugs at her lips, a small thrill of delight running through her when she realizes Heejin noticed something about her. “Yeah. Sorry if I’ve been out of it.”

“You don’t have to apologize for that.”

“Anyway. I don’t know yet, but I love writing. There’s no objective metric for how good I am as a writer. Not everyone’s going to like what I write, that’s what makes it fun. I can never be the best. I can always improve. I like the challenge.”

“I’d love to see more of your writing, Hyun. If you wrote those lyrics a long time ago, you must’ve improved a lot since.”

“Thanks.” Hyunjin shifts in place, clearing . “I’m not that confident about it but I’ll be happy to share with you. I didn’t get to say this earlier, but I’m glad I got the courage to talk to you, too.”

Heejin’s eyes soften and melts in a way Hyunjin doesn’t expect.

“You have something in your hair,” Heejin says mildly. Hyunjin is completely thrown by the non-sequitur, but when Heejin reaches out her body stiffens. Her finger plucks out a shred of cursed greenery from her hair.

“Heejin?” Hyunjin says, hushed.

Determination flashes through her eyes then, and Hyunjin feels the hand behind her ear come down to cup her face.

Heejin leans forward and there’s a soft pressure against her cheek that lingers.

Hyunjin stops breathing, her hands clenched tight in the grass.

Heejin pulls away, face flushed but satisfied, the force of her grin crinkling her eyes. Her thumb rubs against Hyunjin’s cheek. She could probably feel Hyunjin blushing.

“Sorry, I got my lipstick on you.”

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin manages with her tongue locked up. Her face hurts from how wide she’s grinning, and she can imagine the pink staining her cheek, rubbing onto Heejin’s thumb.

She wonders how long Heejin’s been waiting to kiss her since they left the Build-A-Bear, and her heart swells.

“Can I ask what this means?” Hyunjin says once Heejin pulls away. They watch the moon glow brighter in the nautical twilight. She revels in the moment.

(For a brief instant, something about their moment feels achingly familiar. Time and space stretch on for infinity in front of them, behind them. They sit in the middle, symmetrical to it all. The feeling fades in the span of a blink.)

“I think you’re sweet and very charming. But give me more time,” Heejin says softly. “And promise me this.”

“Yeah?”

Heejin holds out a pinky.

“This is going to sound childish,” Heejin says, laughing. “But I’m afraid of losing things. I’d like it if we could be friends through anything that happens.”

“I promise,” Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate before locking the finger with her own. “You and me together.”

Underneath the milk moon and the creamy skies, the promise remains sweet on her tongue, sweeter than any velvet crush or pumpkin chocolate. Heejin’s grin is brighter than all of the candied stars combined.

“That’s all I want to ask of you.”

 

---

 

Haseul finishes her leftover cheesecake for dinner. Though not quite satisfied with just dessert, she plays a delicate game of jenga, stacking her plate on a pile of dirty dishes in the sink before stalking off to scavenge the fridge for family dumplings.

It’s only then that she becomes aware of the petite figure looming by the kitchen island.

Yeojin is a still image, seemingly paused mid-water change with an array of aquatic equipment on the counter and a decorated light bulb cradled inside her palms. The golden base of the bulb is still sealed. She doesn’t seem to have noticed Haseul’s presence either.

Haseul grabs two Ceylon lemon tea boxes from the fridge and sets a course for her step-sister.

“What’s wrong, Yeojinie?” Haseul asks, making sure not to startle her. She slides the drink on the counter.

Yeojin acknowledges her with a purse of the lips, her attention briefly flitters to the drink before snapping back to her ever engrossing pocket-aquarium life. Two snails creeping about in their underwater playground: one on the tip of a brown branch leaning upright against the glass, and the other along the green and white crystal pebbles by the marimo algae ball.

“The baby won’t come up today.” Yeojin replies.

“Ahh… poor thing.” Haseul understands now. When the marimo is happy, it floats to the surface and brings Yeojin joy.

The girl takes pride in the meticulous care she has for raising her pets. She has been sensitive with the topic however ever since her first, a pretty red snail, passed away not too long ago.

“Can I see?” Haseul gestures for permission. Yeojin swaps the bulb for the lemon drink. Haseul does a brief survey, waiting until Yeojin finishes a sip before she continues, “Maybe the baby’s just resting after a long day. Where did you take them out today?”

“We went to visit an old friend.”

“Did you guys have fun?”

“We did, but Marimo’s still feeling down.”

“Aww, Gilchi wouldn’t want that.” They had been friends from day 1, coming home together as a pair. “Maybe Marimo will feel better if you passed along a message?” Haseul suggests.

Brandishing a teasing curve of her lips, the engineer produces a paper star from her pocket and presses it into Yeojin’s open hand. Yeojin drinks slowly, processing her intentions.

It takes a moment. Closing her eyes, “...Gilchi-ah,” Yeojin squeezes tight. “You already passed the rainbow bridge but let’s meet again. Marimo and I, and all of your friends too, we miss you a lot! I’m sorry I couldn’t feed you more.” She sniffles. “Let’s meet again, if possible. Bye.”

Yeojin kisses the fist holding the star. Haseul laughs and pats Yeojin’s dumpling hair. “Good baby girl.” She says dotingly, moving her hand to scratch under Yeojin’s chin.

Yeojin opens her eyes, hissing and snarling. She chases after Haseul’s hand with vicious chomps and a beaming, crooked grin. When she opens her throwing fists, she finds the star fluttering and throbbing in the curve of her palm until it flattens back into a single sheet.

A heat-activated mechanism to return to its default state. Haseul inwardly bristles with glee.

She’s not sure why the rambunctious noises suddenly die down though, until she sees Yeojin’s eyes keen on her unopened Ceylon box.

“Hey Haseul.” She sounds serious. “You bought these drinks with Ara right?”

“Yeah. Do you want more?”

“No. I’m fine. Have you been ok? You’ve been disappearing off more than usual lately.”

“It’s nothing to worry about. I’ve just been busy, you know, getting all wrapped up in my own head again.”

“Yeah. I wished you’d just tell me if something’s bothering you. You know you can talk to me.”

“Thanks, that’s really sweet. I’ll come to you if things get too out of hand.”

“Only because Ara isn’t here.” Haseul flinches. Even at the devastating obvious.

Yeojin takes it as a sign to pursue.

“You may not be the perfect sister, and you don’t have to be, but you’re still my sister. I want to try to understand what you’re going through.”

The elder nods.

“…Do you miss her?” Yeojin waits cautiously as Haseul slowly punctures her own Ceylon container with a drinking straw.

“Everyday I miss her.”

“Do you think she’s ok?”

“I don’t know, but I wish I knew.”

Yeojin pitters into silence afterwards, not knowing what else to say. Not that Haseul was expecting anything. There wasn’t much they could do in this situation, but she’s touched regardless.

“I’m tired.” Haseul says, somewhat relieved that she means it. “I’m calling it a night, little dumpling. Make sure you brush your teeth and go to sleep when you’re done.”

Haseul retires from the kitchen in an easy, controlled gait, tossing out their finished drinks and leaving Yeojin to resume the task of feeding her companions and transferring them back into their main tank.

“Sweet dreams!” Yeojin calls out before she turns the corner.

“Mhmm.” Haseul smiles to herself when she’s out of sight. “I hope so.”

Descending deep into the belly of the Jo’s residence, Haseul makes sure to double check the locks to her laboratory.

It’s dark inside the room. The windows are sealed. And there are strings. Strips of origami sheets paperclipped to threads woven from wall to wall, ceiling to floor, on wire framed mounts.

Haseul weaves through the blueprints of her spider's nest. She’s careful not to trigger any sudden vibrations to the sensors of her new barrier system. Built like a lair-leptomeninx, Haseul pulls out her smart key anyway― two beeps, the lights turn on and the web powers off― just to be safe. While she considers herself small and nimble enough for the feat, she admits her choice design could use some improvement to help with the navigation… here and there… Mainly in organization.

Her furnishings had been pushed around in a bizarre configuration to accommodate the layout changes. So quick to the call of action, Haseul hadn’t thought the idea completely through at its conception and worked everything out in the spur of the moment.

Her primary work station, array of tools, and miscellaneous materials cluttered around the center. It’s her leather couch that’s positioned to be in the middle however, delegated with the best vantage point, right below the hanging centerpiece that everything was connected to.

Directly above her head, a dreamcatcher with three white feathers dangles from thin and sturdy lines of silk.

It’s a warding charm she received from a native artisanal trinket shop in Denver. The shopkeeper had gifted her the ability to catch shadows when she described in passing how uncomfortable she’d felt sleeping away from home.

Haseul’s glad to have been inspired again by sentimental objects discovered on her travels, and in those few seconds electrified by a rush of nostalgia, she lets it in. Then takes it down. This time she’s prepared to swallow her fears whole.

She places the dreamcatcher into a feathergrain wooden storage bin and buries it under layers of fire retardant fabrics.

The scientist lays to rest on her leather couch, wrapping up in a wool blanket and cushioning in snug with her trusty neck pillow. Two beeps, and the room goes dark again. She swaps her key for her phone.

Checking the last message she sent to Ara, the woman who had instructed her not to worry the night she had delayed the flight to return from Hong Kong―

HASEUL: I’ll see you later

Left on sent.

Haseul tries not to overthink how Ara hasn’t responded since.

She closes her eyes just as they begin to sting. Encumbered by truth and its tumultuous implications.

Feeling on the verge of a sleepless nightmare, the engineer coaxes the shape of her breathing, inhaling and exhaling until she’s gone with that very wind burning through her lungs― collapsing the temple built in her body, not too unlike a house of cards.

But Haseul may have the means to construct courage after all. It’s the last thought she tries to focus on.

It’s difficult, but when Haseul falls asleep that night, a grey thunderstorm is summoned, bellowing a roar all over Seoul.

 

---

 

K_Morpho + plush_invicta: Hi, it’s been a while. We’re back from our school hiatus. Just to clarify, ‘excuse me, my manners just left the build-a-bear’ is part of a larger Loonaverse AU series we’ve been referring to as LMM. We understand that this may be off-putting to both new and old readers― this chapter serves as a precaution for the next couple of updates as Loonalore bleeds more into the mundane. Hopefully, it isn’t too much of a leap from the build of the previous chapters.

We encourage our readers to engage with constructive feedback on their impressions in-so-far. We would appreciate it, especially if you’re confused, for you to ask questions so that we could try to clarify any pertinent issues as early and as effectively as possible. And please don’t hesitate! We always LOVE to hear your speculations!

And if it is a little too much of a switch up, don’t worry, this chapter technically concludes the 2jin narrative. We wanted to at least give the simple (not-so-simple) 2jin Build-a-Bear Mascot AU a stand-alone fluffy ending, so you could happily depart here if you had initially picked this up just for 2jin. Thank you for sticking with us through the hiatus!

Otherwise, if you want to continue with the rest of the LMM series, catch up with Odd Eye Circle in ‘if this is for love, i’ll try defying gravity’ and keep a lookout for the next release. We’ll be following OEC before bouncing back to the 1/3 ensemble for the unit’s finale.

We are so happy to have made it this far with everybody’s support and want to continue tackling this ambitious narrative with even greater fervor and improvement. Again, thank you all for your patience! Though we're not completely satisfied with this chapter, please let us know what you think!