“Hello there.”

Byulyi stands at the mouth of a corridor, hand raised in a half wave at the young lady standing in the middle of the hall. She’s dressed primply in yellow, a flower pin in her har. The girl turns around in a flurry, anxiety written all over her face. Despite the unwelcome expression, Byulyi is struck. She’s beautiful.

And cute, Byulyi thinks, looking at her wide eyes and full cheeks, like a startled rabbit.

“It’s not safe to wander around alone down here, you know.”

“Wh-what are you going to do with me?”

The fair lady sputters, taking a few steps back and bracing herself against the wall. Her eyes are trained on Byulyi’s every move, the woman herself shocked by the insinuation.

“I’m not – I wouldn’t – don’t worry, I’m harmless.” She raises her hands, trying to give her a reassuring smile.

The girl looks her up and down, and her large brown eyes go impossible wider, as if in disbelief.

Byulyi had to admit her dirty dress shirt and rolled up slacks didn’t exactly say “upstanding citizen that can do no harm,” but it’s not like she looked that dangerous either. The girl is still watching her, and for a moment she is captivated by her gaze, but just as well the young lady tears her eyes away, opting to ignore the only other person in the hallway.

Able to tell when her presence isn’t appreciated, Byulyi sighs and continues on her way. The girl seems frozen in her spot against the wall, eyes avoidant. She bites her lip nervously, and Byulyi lacks enough self-control that she can’t help her eyes flickering down to capture the movement.

“Excuse me.” Byulyi coughs as she passes. The girl jumps at the sudden sound. Byulyi briefly feels guilty for startling her, but not enough to spare her another wandering glance. She was heading off to be alone anyway. Byulyi may have called out to the girl first, but she wasn’t really in need of any company.

Wheein had sent her on a mission to procure more bedsheets for god knows what reason, and she had found a conveniently unlocked linen closet in this hall her first night aboard. However, when she reaches the closet door she hesitates. Byulyi didn’t think herself vain, but she did have just a bit too much pride. If the young lady saw her walk into the closet right then and come out with a pile of sheets, she might assume Byulyi was a thief, or a scoundrel, either way, as low-class as she looked. No, she would come back later when no one was around. Just as she’s about to saunter off again, a voice bounces down the corridor.

“Wait.”

Byulyi halts her stride.

“I apologize for being rude. I didn’t mean to assume anything I…I was a bit lost in thought.” The girl glances back and forth between the end of the hall and Byulyi. “Actually, I seem to be a bit lost in general. Would you mind helping me?”

Byulyi debates for a moment whether the time spent will be worth it (Wheein was quite short these days, no pun intended), but the girl was quite sincerely asking for help. Byulyi turns to appraise her again and feels her hesitation dissipate. They girl’s eyes were wide and pleading, the warmest brown she’d ever seen. Byulyi just couldn’t say no to a pretty face.

“You sure know how to ask for favors, little miss.” She strolls back down the hallway laying it on a bit thicker than maybe she should. “Luckily for you I’ve scoped out every nook and cranny of this ship. Now, where can I get you?”

The lady purses her lips with a tight smile. “”Little Miss” is a bit much, coming someone who is younger than me. But if you would kindly guide me to the art gallery...” She huffs.

Byulyi eyebrows rise upwards at the idea that this youthful presence could possibly be older, but shakes herself out of it. “Better yet, I’ll walk you there, make sure you don’t wander into any actual trouble.” Byulyi winks and the woman has the decency to blush. “Your name?” She asks, ghosting a hand over the other’s back to guide her down the hallway.

“My name is Kim…Solar. You can just call me Solar.”

“Alright Miss Solar,” Byulyi grins. “My name is Moonbyul.”

Solar mimics her smile, glad that this girl was easygoing enough to forgive her earlier shortness.

As they climb the stairs upwards, Byulyi trails behind Solar to help carry her skirt tails (which for Solar, was quite flattering, enough to color her cheeks again). Byulyi can’t help but note how petite the woman’s figure is, even from a lower angle.

“Are you really older than me?”

Solar glances back at her. “How old are you, Moonbyul?”

“22 this year.”

“Ah. I’m 23.” Solar grins cheekily.

--

Yongsun lets her gaze rest on Moonbyul casually as they ride the elevators up to the 4^th deck. She’s thin, but Yongsun had felt a delicate strength in her arms when they pressed upon her back. Upon closer inspection, the stains on her shirt were not actually stains, but spots of black dust that made Yongsun curious as to what exactly this mysterious woman had been getting up to. And her style of dress, to be unmistakably a woman and yet be wearing trousers…Never one for subtlety, Yongsun’s mouth looses before she can think twice.

“Why is it that you’re wearing trousers, Moonbyul?”

Moonbyul her head, caught off-guard by the question. “You’re quite direct, Miss Solar.”

“So I’ve been told. Had it not been for the length of your hair and the fairness of your features I would truly have thought you were man.”

Moonbyul chuckles. “Perhaps that is the reason, then.”

Yongsun watches Moonbyul as she straightens out her shirt pats on some dust spots, the marks lightening. She fixes the collar of her shirt before pulling the suspenders hanging around her waist back over each shoulder. At last, she turns to Yongsun, all straightened out and a bit cleaner. “Tell me, Miss Solar, am I handsome like a man too?” She grins with great confidence.

Yongsun looks her up and down with a smile before noticing a single blemish. She reaches up to cup Moonbyul’s cheek and runs a thumb down her nose, the black dust coating the cloth of her white glove.

“I think you’re quite handsome just as yourself, Moonbyul.”

Moonbyul blushes in a way that is wholly too cute, wildly contrasting with her image up until then. Yongsun hides a giggle behind her now tarnished glove.

The elevator dings at last to their stop and the operator slides the double doors open for the two. The women step out as Yongsun turns to Moonbyul with another question, something Moonbyul had mentioned while they had been walking.

“You really know one of the artists?”

Moonbyul seemed to have recovered enough to become boastful again. “Of course! I’ll have you know that I am a woman of honest words.” She bows slightly before the open doors of the gallery and gestures for Yongsun to walk ahead. “Ladies first.”

Yongsun giggles a ‘thank you,’ completely charmed despite herself. She takes a quick glance around the gallery. “Well then, which piece is theirs?”

There are typical oil paintings of the scenery popular in America, a number with classical imagery, all things beautiful but not much interesting in her opinion. Just as she is about to turn to Moonbyul for an answer, one painting in the back catches her eye. It’s a , but not like ones she’s seen before. Only the torso of the woman exists in the frame, but she is kept decent by the crumple of white bedsheets. A shoulder is bared to tease, her hair is a wild, flaming red. Her eyes are as well, and they stare directly at Yongsun, luring her in. Yongsun moves towards it without thinking.

Up close, it is her expression that is absolutely captivating. There is something about it that makes Yongsun feel uninvited, despite the gravitation, as if those eyes are not, will never be, meant to be aimed at her. This look is meant to be seen by one person, and one person only. The colors are so hot, the beauty so otherworldly, Yongssun has to wonder if this is not a portrait of a demon, a succubus, which had come to claim the artist, and with her passions had burnt them alive.

“This is it.” Moonbyul’s voice snaps her back to reality.

Yongsun jumps at the interruption of her moment with the art. “This painting? You are friends with the artist of this painting?” She asks incredulously.

Moonbyul nods, smug. “Of course! I’m a woman of—”

“Honest words.” Yongsun finishes, mumbling. She focuses back on the painting. The intensity and passion in the figure’s gaze is so visceral, she doubts even a photograph could capture it as well. The artist must have either loved this woman, or been cursed by her.

“She was both.” Moonbyul says.

Yongsun jolts in realization. “I’m sorry, did I speak aloud?” Moonbyul chuckles at her flushing face before she finishes processing all that Moonbyul has said. 

“I thought your friend was a woman?”

Moonbyul’s throat tightens a bit. She nods. “A woman named Jung Wheein.” She gestures to the painting. “She loved this woman, swore to love her until the end of time. There was no way to live without her.” She pauses and Yongsun senses the hesitancy that comes with her next words. “Wheein and I became friends due to our…similar interests.” Moonbyul explains. She keeps face turned resolutely on the painting, but Yongsun can see her eyes flicker with uncertainty. The painting stares back at them willfully. Yongsun’s mind is spiraling.

Similar interests. A woman. A woman deeply in love with another woman.

“Does that disgust you?” Moonbyul asks as she closes her eyes, bracing.

The silence is awkward. Moonbyul is tense, ready to walk away and never look back when Yongsun gathers herself and speaks again, without regard of the complicated thoughts now floating around her head.

“No. No, I don’t think it does.”

Moonbyul’s head snaps to her side but Yongsun is back to gazing at the painting.

She whispers, “I think it’s very beautiful.”

--

“I know much of your friend now, Moonbyul, but you have yet to tell me about yourself.” Yongsun wonders aloud as she and Moonbyul make their way back to the atrium, walking outside on the railing, pace slow as if to try to prolong their time.

“What would you like to know?”

“What do you do?”

“I write.”

“Stories?”

“Poetry.” Moonbyul smiles, soft. Yongsun feels her stomach drop, and for a moment wonders if she shouldn’t have skipped her meals today.

“What kind of poems?” She whispers, drawn into the clandestine atmosphere created by Moonbyul’s playful eyes.

Moonbyul looks out to the darkened waves, peaking gold in the hues of the setting sun. And she starts to speak.

“In my room
Every day, I see your smile.
I feel like I’m hovering around the same place.
How I smiled,
Sometimes I don’t remember.
I’m jealous of your happiness today, too.
Let me see you.
Let me feel you.”

She breathes the last line out with a small laugh, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. Yongsun has her eyes closed, her hands clasped in front of her just to bask in the tones of Moonbyul’s voice. “That’s…” She trails off, not quite sure how to place her words.

“A bit pitiful? I would say so too.” Moonbyul laughs easily.

“No,” Yongsun rolls her eyes, “I was going to say, I felt your longing resonate with me, even though I haven’t been in that kind of relationship before.”

Moonbyul scoffs. “My poetry isn’t that strong yet. And who can you even feel a longing for if you haven’t been in love before?” She raises an eyebrow in her direction, lazily leaning on the rails.

Yongsun weaves her fingers together. My mother, she thinks, my sister.

“I don’t know, my dog I guess.” She says in the end. Moonbyul bursts out laughing. “Hey! Don’t laugh! I’ll have you know they’re very important friends and I had to leave her behind.”

Moonbyul quiets her peals and ducks her head with small apologies. “I’m sorry, your right, you’re right. I know your feeling well enough.”

Yongsun huffs. “Of course I’m right. And as I was going to say before, your poem almost sounds like a song.”

Moonbyul straightens up. “You know music?”

“Oh,” Yongsun turns back towards the bow and begins walking again. “I played piano when I was young, or something.”

She feels a hand slide itself around hers and tug her back gently. “And?” Moonbyul enquires, trying to face her, as if knowing she had something to hide.

Yongsun bites her lip. “I sing, just a little bit.”

Moonbyul positively sparkles at the information. “You sing? Will you sing for me?”

She’s so endearing Yongsun almost says yes, but restrains herself, a drudge settling on her mind at the thought of singing again. “No, not now. Maybe later, if you’re lucky.” She winks, making Moonbyul groan.

“Is that what you do then? Are you a singer?”

Yongsun freezes, one hand on the railing, tightening around her thoughts. “I…no.” She releases her hold and brushes her hands off. “I’m just a,” A bargaining chip. “A girl.” She smiles solemnly.

Moonbyul’s face falls at the obvious cloud that had come over them. She frantically tries to change the topic again.

“How’d you end up in the lower deck suites by the way? Fancy girl like you.” Byulyi asks as they begin to stroll down the walkways again, Byulyi lightly running her fingers along the bottoms of the life boats.

“I was…Just doing a bit of exploring. But I couldn’t tell the ship forward from backward, and apparently up from down either.” Yongsun admits openly, lips pulling into a pout.

Byulyi delights at her unabashed honesty, her lack of airs, and throws an arm around the other woman’s waist. “Lucky for you I found you then.”

Yongsun jumps at the sudden intimacy and tries to wiggle away. “Yah! Moonbyul, I feel you are less of a poet and more of a philanderer.”

Byulyi releases her immediately, but when Yongsun doesn’t move to put more distance between them, she smiles. “Most poets happen to be both, Miss Solar.”

--

“Why America?” Yongsun asks her as they walk the perimeter of the top deck, forgoing returning to the inside completely, despite the cold brush of winter air.

Moonbyul leans against the railing and faces the oncoming winds. “My word are too radical, it seems. My brother advised me to go, said those free-spirited Americans would love my poems there. Really…he was just trying to protect me.”

Yongsun is smart enough to read between the lines. Of course, if there was a reason to leave home, it was because the home rejected her first. She’s about to apologize but Moonbyul continues. “It could be anywhere else. All of Korea thinks they know what I should be. Society watches me and says, “you must be the same.” Anywhere else won’t care about some queer foreigner, different in all ways, their tastes strange in not only the food they eat. They will mind their own business. It could be anywhere else, Solar, anywhere else but back there.”

She swivels around to face Yongsun again. There’s a stray hair dancing around in front of the older woman’s face. Moonbyul reaches out and brushes it behind her ear and appraises how it frames her face perfectly. “I’m glad though, that out of anywhere I could have been, I ended up here.”

With you. Yongsun hears, whispered in the wind.

The winds blow Moonbyul’s hair all around her, now that she’s turned, backlit by the rays of sunset, Yongsun sees Moonbyul as a siren, lulling her with the ocean waves, captivating her with her eyes, coming to call her away from the only world she’s ever known. Her face burns hot at the thought of Moonbyul carrying her away.

“What do you mean by that?”

Moonbyul merely smiles mysteriously and pushes off the railing. “I want to show you something.” She takes both of Yongsun’s hands in hers and leads her towards the front of the ship.

They climb stairs, over chains that Yongsun is sure they should absolutely not be crossing and soon they’re almost at the tip of the bow. The wind is beating on her eardrums and so she shouts to be heard.

“What are we doing?”

“Trust me!” Moonbyul shouts back and tugs her further up, so they’re standing right at the point. Yongsun is already dizzying just looking back at the deck of the ship, merely a couple of meters down. She dares not to look over the edge of the railing.

“Trust me.” Moonbyul reassures again, pulling Yongsun towards her. Yongsun is numb with fear and can’t find her voice when Moonbyul shifts so she’s holding Yongsun in front of her. Now, there is nothing between herself and plummeting over the edge.

In the wake of the scarlet sky above and the black waters below, her body burns alive and breath fills her lungs.

“I’m so scared Moonbyul!” She shouts against the wind and the hysteria of her own voice surprises her. The hands around her waist tighten.

Moonbyul tucks her head into the curve of Yongsun’s shoulder and presses a smile to her hair. The hands on her waist slid up to her arms and guide them to spread so that Yongsun seems to be embracing the setting sun, absorbing its essence and glowing from it.

She is enthralled from the feeling of weightlessness in that moment, and the crashing of the waves beneath her. How easily she could just push off and be forgotten, fall in the ocean and turn to seafoam, like the little mermaid.

She feels lithe fingers interlacing with her own and clasps on tightly.

“I’ve got you” Byulyi breathes, warm and tingling and somehow, she hears it past the roaring waves and turbulent wind. It pulls her back to the surface.

Yongsun pushes her chest out then, grinning and deeply inhaling the cold, salted air. There was nothing on the horizon but the blazing sun and the glittering waves. They were flying towards the end of the world.

“I’m so scared Byul-ah!” She repeats, but this time, laughter weaves itself into the melodies of her voice. “I’m so scared and I feel so alive!”

--

“Let me show you something else.” Moonbyul tugs at her hands, elated, and her smile is contagious.

Yongsun is still so electrified from standing at the edge of the world that, she’s sure, all the willpower in the world wouldn’t have been enough for her to deny Moonbyul anything in this moment. She nods, still laughing, as Moonbyul leads her in a flurry to down the stairs, towards the lower decks, and she doesn’t even care for the disgruntled ladies and gentlemen they run into and push out of the way.

When Moonbyul finally stops pulling after the final flight of stairs. She turns to look at her as if searching for approval, but the scene in front of her almost brings Yongsun to tears.

They’re in the lower lobby for the economy suites, where wayfarers and service-folk and the lower-class bunk. There’s a large table pitched in the center, and all around are people. People dancing, people singing, people drinking, people laughing. Yongsun reels back to a year ago, before her father came back, to when her family would gather with everyone on the block to celebrate a birthday, her birthday, and the only thing she knew was that family meant happiness.

And it was something that man had spent a year screaming out of her.

But now, in the tungsten burn of the fixed lights, by the smoke of the pipes being shared between friends, she was pulled into the nostalgic haze of those familiar, happy times, and so she grasps Moonbyul’s hand again and pulls them into the fray, Moonbyul laughing delightedly behind her.

Before her reason can catch up with her adrenaline, Yongsun grabs a beer from someone’s hand and chugs it down.

The man she took it from has no words for her other than “Easy there miss!” and then he’s just another face in the mass of bodies in merry-making. Moonbyul looks shocked at her display and it’s only then she feels a moment of hesitance before the other woman nabs a drink for herself and chugs it just the same.

“Miss Solar!” She shouts over the fray, setting her empty mug down on the table. “You might just be the woman of my dreams!”

Yongsun feels a heat crawl up her neck, and she can’t say for sure if it’s the alcohol, or Moonbyul’s declaration, but either way she’s giddy.

She had never thought of women, but then she met Moonbyul, and it was as if a veil had been drawn.

“You can keep on dreaming then, Moonbyul!” She teases beckoning Moonbyul to come back to her side, as she backs up into the throng of dancers. Moonbyul chases after her, eyes never leaving, until Yongsun notices the plucking of the band get louder. She turns and wades towards it, leaving Moonbyul to follow after, because it’s music, and if Moonbyul hadn’t been opening her doors left and right, music would have been her first love.

She stops when she gets to the band. She stares and listens for a bit while Moonbyul finally catches up for her, doesn’t say anything, but slides a hand into hers.

“I want to sing.” She murmurs.

“What?” Moonbyul leans her head in close.

“I want to sing.” Yongsun says, louder. She turns to Moonbyul’s ear and feels how hot it is against her lips. “I want to sing.” She repeats again, and Moonbyul can miss it.

The taller woman turns to her with a confident smile, so much that Yongsun feels herself filling up with courage.

“Then sing.” Moonbyul tells her like it’s the answer.

Yongsun takes the wind under her wings and flies to stand in front of the band. They peek at her curiously, but don’t let it affect their rhythm, and then Yongsun opens , and sings.

The din of the lobby becomes a murmur. Yongsun can barely hear her own voice past the blood rushing in her ears, but Moonbyul looks up at her with eyes wide and enamored, and Yongsun can finally remember the feeling of singing for love again, not for show.

She belts it out, letting her voice be bold and obtrusive, letting it interrupt conversation and change the flow of the dancing to announce herself. I am here, listen to me, her voice rings out.

And they do listen. The crowd has gathered around her, tapping their feet, clapping their hands, singing along, and she’s filled with an energy that sends her running from one end of the stage to another, to sing with a child, to dance with a bellhop, and finally, she catches Moonybyul’s eyes again. She’s twirling around a girl with short blond hair, laughing with her head thrown back. Yongsun approaches them like she’s being pulled by a string, and Moonbyul spins the girl away, stumbling towards her just the same.

Yongsun quiets down, the chorus of everyone else finally enough to drown out her own voice, and feels a little raw from finally being free after so long. She trips into Moonbyul’s arms and of course, she catches her. She looks up, and Moonbyul is grinning at her, flushed and gentle, she picks Yongsun up in a twirl before setting her down and pulling her in. She presses her face to the side of Yongsun’s head and she can feel her hot breath brush the tips of her ears.

“You are so, so beautiful, Solar.”

Yongsun is breathless, for the first time not because of her tears, or from running away, but because she feels so, so alive. There are stars in her eyes. Moonbyul is looking at her like this is right where she belongs, laughing, singing, dancing, and surrounded with warmth. Surrounded in the arms of a person she knows will not let her fall, anywhere, but in love.

--

It’s over all too soon.

“What are you doing here, Solar?” A voice rings out from the stairwell, one that Yongsun could pick out from any room, not matter how loud. She feels her blood freeze, instantly sobered. “Dinner was hours ago and you couldn’t grace us for a moment?” He’s looking at her, piteously she knows, she doesn’t look up to confirm.

“I…” She starts, unsure. The English rolls out like a blunder.

“Speak clearly, Solar. Though, I think I’ve seen enough.” He scans the raucous room that hasn’t even noticed his presence, and scoffs. “You seem to have made some especially poor company.” He sneers.

Yongsun fumbles over her words. Panicking under his stare, they all jumble together in her head. She know’s what he’s said, but she can’t piece together what little English she knows to form a response. She feels a hand curl around her own then, and glances at Moonbyul. The young woman is staring at her father, cold, unflinching, and there is no fear. Yongsun finds her voice.

“Father, I am sorry.” She begins, the intonations clumsy. His small eyes peer at her impatiently. Yongsun is unsure how to explain the scene to him.

Moonbyul squeezes her hand gently, and doesn’t let go despite the cold sweat gathering on Yongsun’s palm. It strengthens her enough to speak naturally.

“Father, I’m sorry.” She starts again, Korean on her tongue like a fish in water. “This is Moonbyul-sshi. She has shown me much kindness thus far.”

Her fathers glare hardens and Yongsun feels the pit of her stomach drop. “Such as well,” She sees his jaw clench hearing the syllables or their home from and she shrinks a bit more. “Unfortunately, there is little success to be found in kindness, my daughter. We will not survive in America if you do not understand how to make the right acquaintances.” He turns on his heel. “Do not embarrass me again. I expect to see you at the table tomorrow. Clean.” He emphasizes, obviously disapproving of the stained edges of her skirts.

His eyes wander over to the woman standing next to his daughter, eyeing her up and down. “Bring your friend, since she has shown you such kindness.” He speaks, peering haughtily at Moonbyul. And then he ascends the stairs, leaving nothing but dread in Yongsun’s mind.

“Solar?” Moonbyul calls her gently.

She snaps out of her anxiety-ridden thoughts and the concern in the younger woman’s eyes calms her frigid nerves.

“I’m sorry, Byul-ah. He’s…he said such horrid things.”

Moonbyul’s face flushes for a moment, she scratches her cheek to avoid Yongsun’s eyes. “Ah, that’s okay. I didn’t understand him, except the part about dinner?”

Yongsun’s eyes widen. “Didn’t understand? But you were looking at him so coldly, I thought, I thought for sure you were angry.”

Moonbyul her head to the side cutely. It’s a far cry from the cold mask she wore earlier. “Ah, that might just be my face when I concentrate. People have told me I become quite unapproachable.”

Yongsun giggles. “Well, unapproachable it may be, you actually looked quite handsome.” She brings up Moonbyul’s hand and cups it with both her own. “My father’s words were not kind, Moonbyul. He invited you to dinner tomorrow evening, but you don’t have to come. My father means to embarrass both me and yourself, probably to paint me as a silly child for missing dinner tonight and making him lose face, you as a rapscallion who lead me astray, and they will tear you to pieces.” Yongsun sighs.

Moonbyul brings up her other hand and Yongsun feels her soft fingertips tilting her head up. “You don’t like it, do you?” She asks softly, and Yongsun can only close her eyes. She didn’t want to admit it.

“I won’t leave you alone.” Moonbyul says. Yongsun opens to protest but Moonbyul hushes her with a single finger and it makes Yongsun heats at the contact. “Don’t worry, Solar. If your father means to make a fool of me, I will show him who the real fool is.” She resolves.

Before Yongsun can protest further, Moonbyul leads her up the steps. “It’s getting late, Solar. I’ll walk you to your wing so you don’t get lost again.”

“Moonbyul you don’t have to—”

“It’s to spend more time together.” Moonbyul confesses. “I don’t plan on seeing you tomorrow until dinner time.”

“That’s what I mean Moonbyul. You don’t have to go out of your way to throw yourself to those wolves at my expense.”

“You’d be surprised at what I can do to a pack of wolves, Solar.” Moonbyul smiles mysteriously.

They make their way quietly down the hallways until a curious thought strikes Yongsun through her worries. “Moonbyul, what of your own family?”

Moonbyul bears a wistful smile before replying.

“I have a capable older brother and a beautiful younger sister. My mother and father are both successful scholars and devout Christians. There’s no room for a deviant like me in that family.” She feels Yongsun touch her wrist. “Well, luckily for me, they claimed they wouldn’t denounce me as long as I made myself scarce. Running away to another country is about as scarce as it gets, don’t you think? Though, it seems like my sister isn’t quite ready to let go of me yet. She made me promise to write to her when I arrived.”

“Your sister sounds like a nice girl.” Yongsun remarks.

Moonbyul nods. “She was my little angel, I practically raised her.”

Yongsun suddenly feels a wave of emotion wash over her, at the thought of her own sister. She wishes she could write to her now, tell her that she was happy and well to ease her heart. But Yongsun had never lied to her sister, and she would not start now.

Moonbyul stops and Yongsun draws out of her thoughts to realize they are standing at the end of her wing, her room just down the hall.

Before she can say anything, Moonbyul envelops her in a hug. She can feel her nose burrowing into Yongsun’s loose curls and it tickles her skin. She can’t help the giggles the spill out. It only encourages Moonbyul to nuzzle in deeper, hold her tighter.

Before she starts shrieking from the tickles, Yongsun pushes on Moonbyul’s shoulders and the taller woman leans her head back up, smiling sweetly.

“Thank you for walking me here, and…everything today.” Yongsun says.

“My pleasure, really.” Moonbyul lets go and Yongsun turns to walk to her room. She’s about to bid Moonbyul one last ‘goodnight’ when the woman calls out to her.

“Solar, may I ask you a favor?”

“Of course, Moonbyul.” Solar tilts her head.

“Earlier on, you called me ‘Byul-ah’. Could I ask you to call me that more often?” Moonbyul looked surprisingly demure for such a small request. Yongsun found it adorable.

“Hmmm, let me think about it.” She teases, and Moonbyul’s eyes are shaking with confusion. Yongsun laughs at her expression and steps into her suite. She pokes her her head outside one last time at Moonbyul, still standing at the end of the hall a bit dumbfounded.

“Goodnight, Byul-ah.” Yongsun grins, and closes the door.