The buzzing cuts off abruptly just as the song slips into a deafening guitar riff. Nakyung flinches and yanks off her headphones. Her eyes follow the thirty-foot cord back to the outlet where the plug had popped out. She glances around the indoor sports center and smirks at the banner screaming Where Adventure Awaits! The enormous analog clock above the half-pipe reads two in the morning. She scuffs her worn Converse along the wooden planks of the basketball court. They squeak obnoxiously. With a yawn, she coils up the cord and rolls the floor polisher into the custodian closet. Without breaking stride, she swipes her frayed tote bag off the floor and punches the light switches. Shadows engulf the four towering rock walls with neon handholds. The high ropes course transforms into a looming tangle of vines in the moonlight. The small soccer field, the courts, the stretch of trampolines, and the foam pit become a barren wasteland in the darkness. Nakyung squeezes past the metal gate and pulls out her keys. The teeth catch on something. There’s the sound of fabric ripping seam by seam. Rolling her eyes at the ceiling, she jams the key into the hole and twists with more force than necessary. She makes a mental note to dig up the sewing kit and patch up her bag, again. She signs off her name on the clipboard in the employee lounge. There’s a pile of freshly laundered towels waiting by her skateboard with two granola bars, juice boxes, and a post-it.

Don’t stay too late. Remember to eat. See you tomorrow. — Chaeng

Nakyung shakes her head fondly. She trades her bag for a small caddy and heads for the showers. Her soft voice echoes throughout the empty guest locker room as the steam billows up in clouds.

~|~|~|~

The stale air of the lobby stings Nakyung’s lungs, but it’s better than the biting windchill outside. She looks back at the foot of snow she plowed a trail through. One set of footsteps meant no stalkers. She dusts off her shoulders and beanie. A few crystals tumble to the ground, melting at her feet. She stares blankly at the wet splotches on her shoes. They’d dry by her next shift, and hopefully the sidewalk would be shoveled too. The elevator dings. A whole minute passes before the doors rattle open. It dips ominously from Nakyung’s added weight. She holds her pale, shaking finger against the blinking number four until the doors slide shut and the elevator creaks its way up the shaft. Nakyung wiggles her toes to get her blood circulating. She can almost feel them by the time she reaches her apartment. She flexes her fingers and cracks a few knuckles. She jiggles the rusty doorknob at just the right angle before slamming her shoulder against the wood to force her way in.

It’s dark, dismal, and decrepit. It’s warmer out in the hallway. Nakyung spots the shoe tray with a five-year-old pair that matches hers. The laces are greyed and stretched thin. She leans into the door to wedge it back into place before chucking her shoes into the tray. Her skateboard wobbles unsteadily in the corner. The floorboards moan under her feet. She sets her bag on the couch and runs her left hand over the back. There’s less cotton in the hole than when she left. Chip, Stuart, and Jerry, the resident mice husbands, must’ve visited. Nakyung hopes they’re warm and cozy for the night.

A sneeze pulls her from her reverie. Seven to be exact. It’s always seven. She sheds her coat and hat and shivers from the draft. With featherlight steps, Nakyung tiptoes to the bedroom. There’s a lump on the single spring mattress. It sniffles and her heart melts a bit.

“I missed you,” croaks the lump.

Nakyung pauses at the threshold. The corners of her lips sink into a frown. “Are you sick?”

Another sniffle and a labored breath. “I took a cold shower.”

Nakyung glances over her shoulder into the bathroom. The showerhead and the sink faucet have frosted over. No hot water when it’s below zero. She’s honestly surprised there isn’t an iceberg in the toilet bowl. “I’ll call the super in the morning,” she sighs. She knows it’ll go to voicemail, as did her calls about the broken heater and stove.

“Are you getting in or not?” It’s definitely a whine, a needy one at that.

Nakyung can’t suppress the giggles bubbling up . “Give me a minute.” That earns her another groan. As she kneels by the bed and slides her hands along the floor, she glimpses two  drowsy eyes and a red nose peeking out from under two ragged comforters, one flaunting Stitch in a hula skirt with a coconut bra, the other spotted with eighth notes and quarter rests. 

Seoyeon fidgets impatiently under the covers. She’s been alone all night and only has four more hours until she has to prepare the espresso machine two blocks down the main road for the morning rush hour. She just wants to cuddle and of all times, Nakyung decides that now is an appropriate moment to do push-ups. Although, Seoyeon can’t bring herself to complain. Nakyung has a penchant for sleeveless athletic wear no matter the season. She looks dainty and fragile at first glance, but she pops the ketchup bottles and rips open the Spam cans in this apartment. It’s when Seoyeon catches herself staring at Nakyung’s slightly toned bicep that she feels a spark of heat rising up her neck. She almost stops shivering. Almost. A gust of wind rattles the window pane and penetrates through the cracks.

Before Seoyeon can retreat from the cold, Nakyung weasels her way into the nest of blankets. The warmth from her brief workout seeps into Seoyeon’s bones. Seoyeon’s arms lock around Nakyung’s waist, her nose nuzzled into the girl’s neck. She stops shivering long enough to breathe in—home. Nakyung’s scent can only be described as home. Safety. Comfort. Love. Home. It’s like inhaling an aura, keeping an entire world within her lungs, giving her soul the will to be.

Seoyeon’s watch beeps on the hour. It’s four in the morning and her guilt bulldozes in on cue. Through the darkness she makes out the chipped paint, the holes in the ceiling, and the oddly bent nails in the walls. The window whistles as another gust slams into the cracked glass. There are three squeaks somewhere in the corner, then a patter of little paws out into the living room. She heaves a deep sigh. Seeing her breath condense into a cloud makes her heart shrivel up. Nakyung was always a chaser and Seoyeon lured her into a trap.

“This is some life that we’ve chosen,” Seoyeon says wryly. There’s an apology shoved between the letters and she takes all the blame. She wonders what other eighteen-year-olds think about as they drift off to sleep. The ones who don’t wake up with pale cracked lips and back pain from stiff springs, who can afford to not check their bank accounts, and have fresh eggs for breakfast on a daily basis until they’re sick of it. The ones who have a diploma and putz around for their next purchased degree. The ones who conform to their parents’ expectations—the daughters in floral dresses who bring home dashing young men in suits with checkbooks instead of charming, genuinely devoted skater girls in plaid.

Nakyung looks at Seoyeon who’s sandwiched under her. She can feel Seoyeon tense up, feel her losing her grip. Nakyung’s gaze is tender. Her eyes are bright even when laden with exhaustion. They’re alive with the memories of their first date in an arcade, hand in hand sharing an ice cream cone by the air hockey table. Nakyung rests her forehead against Seoyeon’s. Her smile is infectious. They breathe the same air and Seoyeon feels her demons fleeing from her heart. She falls. She falls deep into those warm, brown eyes that promise her sanctuary as Nakyung whispers against her lips.

“Lee Seoyeon, loving you will always be the best decision I’ve ever made.”