The doorbell rings, breaking the quiet of the summer afternoon.

Hyejin lifts her head just a bit from where it’s resting on the couch’s armrest.  With the curtains drawn close, the living room is dark, washed away with the bluish light of the television playing an old Japanese movie.  Hyejin rest her head back, eyes turning back to the bar scene on screen.

She hears the footsteps of her sister coming down the stairs, heavy and hurried.

“Why didn’t you open the door,” Sujeong stops in her tracks enough to look at her from the doorway, arms crossing over her chest.

Hyejin shrugs, eyes flickering to her and then back to the screen, “too lazy.”

Sujeong shakes her head at that, the doorbell rings again and Sujeong moves away, towards the door.  

Hyejin half listens as the door opens, hears the muffled voice of their visitor, deep and somehow familiar.  The voice lingers in the back of her mind, nagging, wanting to be remembered. She lets it go, slumps back on the couch, reading the subtitles lagging behind the dialogue.

The front door closes, Sujeong’s laugh rings playfully.  

Her eyes widen when she hears the other laugh.  Deep and low. Hyejin remembers hearing this laugh when Sujeong was still in high school, running up to her room, giggling about boys with her .

She sits up just as Moon Byulyi appears at the doorway.

Her hair is shorter than it was when she was in high school.  Hyejin looks at her wide eyed, movie transitioning to a scene on a deserted street, sun washing down on the lone figure.  

Byulyi turns to look at her, pushing back the bangs falling over her face, eyes searching before she smiles, cheekbones pushing up with it.

“Hyejin-ah,” she says, voice light, easy “on summer break?”

Hyejin doesn’t answer.  Mouth opened a bit in disbelief.  

It’s been four years.

Sujeong pushes past the living room door, grabbing a cushion from the couch and throwing it at Hyejin’s face.

“Get out,” she says, sitting on the empty part of the couch, reaching for the tv control, “Byulyi-ah and I are taking over.”

Byulyi laughs at that, sticking her hands into the pocket of her slacks, eyes still on Hyejin before Sujeong nudges at her again, pushing until Hyejin finally gets up.

Hyejin pulls her shorts down her thighs, suddenly overly aware at how shabby and worn out she looks.  She remembers the holes eating away at the hem of her threadbare shirt, the fading color of her ill fitting shorts.  

She feels her cheeks heat up, hands reaching up to smooth out her unruly hair.  

“I’ll be in my room,” she mumbles as she ducks her head, body tensing when she passes by Byulyi, looks at her, eyes, kind, “it was nice seeing you again Hyejin-ah,” she says softly, walking towards the now empty couch.

Hyejin nods, mouth unable to form words, just walks quickly down the narrow hallway and into her room.

She sits on Sujeong’s bed for a couple of minutes, silent, thinking, after the door shuts behind her.  

Hyejin had felt bad when Sujeong had offered her bed, insisting that her little sister couldn’t sleep on the couch.  Always so willing to give to Hyejin even what she couldn’t afford to give. She had been pushy, and Hyejin had relented to keep from arguing and dragging her parents into such a small disagreement.  

It all goes quiet, she sighs and lets herself fall back onto her pillows, stretching out her legs, her knees cracking before she goes limp.

Hyejin takes a deep breath, her hand rising to press against her chest, heat resurging up her neck when she feels how fast her heart is beating.  

-

Hyejin had been in middle school when she had first met Byulyi.  The fall weather had began to bleed into shorter days, faster sunsets, chilling breezes.

Street lights flickering on, people starting to walk back from work.  

Hyejin had walked, arm in arm with Wheein, laughing at some silly story Wheein was telling her, animated.

She hadn’t really expected anything different, giggles still bubbling even after parting with Wheein, hands carefully unlocking the front door.

She had peeled off her shoes, clearing .

“I’m home,” she had called, eyes falling on the extra pair of shoes lined neatly next to Sujeong’s, the jacket hanging from the coat rack.

She was used to Sujeong brining in friends, study partners, classmates.  Hyejin stepped into the living room, untucking her uniform shirt from her skirt.

“Hey,” she said, overly loud, edging on annoying.

She had looked up and Hyejin had felt...stupid.  

The girl sitting on their couch wasn’t her sister.  She looked up at Hyejin’s exclamation, thin lips had already began forming into a smile.

“Hi,” the other girl said, turning to look at her fully, “you must be Sujeong’s little sister.

Hyejin stared at her for a second, cheeks scalding in embarrassment.  

“I’m Moon Byulyi.”

Hyejin had forgotten whatever she was going to say, any teasing she had thought of.

She bowed slowly, “I’m Ahn Hyejin,” she said, voice quiet, “I’ll go look for Sujeong.”

Byulyi smiled at her again, pointing to the ceiling, “she’s in the kitchen.”

-

She hadn’t gone to look for her.  

Hyejin had hid in her room, much like she was doing now.

It’s different now, obviously after five years.

Her long black hair cut off, feathery layers of a short bob.  The lowlights of the living room bouncing off the silver color of her hair.  

Now in the summer her skin had grown just a bit golden, a mere dusting that Hyejin would have not noticed if it were not for the tell tale tickling memory of Byulyi’s porcelain white skin that winter many years ago.

The smile she had given Hyejin was the same as before, soft, muted.

She can still hear their conversation from the living room, muffled sounds, the floating sounds of laughter, the faraway sound of the television fading in between.

Her room is hot, she lays in Sujeong’s bed, sprawl out , boneless.  Sweat runs down her temple, falling and gathering on her pillow case.

She makes a face of distaste, going to wipe down the trail left down her cheek.

Her mind wanders, tries to figure out what’s different.  She feels the same admiration. Hyejin in middle school had been intrigued, had formed a half completed veneration.  Byulyi had been so cool, so chic and pretty. With her black hair seeping out of the darkest of inks, skin as soft, as blinding as the translucent, sugary flesh of a peach.  Hyejin wanted to be like her, to be just like Byulyi.

Her heart stammers in her chest and Hyejin convinces herself it’s normal.  

She falls under the heaviness of a summer afternoon, eyelashes fluttering as her eyes begin to fall.  She curls into herself and falls asleep in the warm July air.

When she wakes up the room is darker, the sun down, dusk hitting softly over the city.  Hyejin sits up, running a hand through her sweaty hair, grimacing at the slick feeling of it.   feels like it’s been filled with cotton, dry and heavy. She blinks stupidly at nothing, sits, disoriented, staring at the corner of her bed.

There’s a knock on her door, sharp raps, her eyes shift to it.

“Come eat,” her sister says, voice loud.

“Alright,” Hyejin calls back, stretching her arms over her head, smiling, pleased, when she hears the pop of her bones.  She gets up easily enough, has enough sense to push her hair back into a low ponytail.

Light floods into her room, rushing in and Hyejin squints at the brightness of it, still not used to it, still half asleep.

She walks down the hallway slowly, stops at the edge when she hears the talking again, the low conversations.

“You didn’t have to make so much food,” Byulyi says, voice kind.

She hears Sujeong snort, the clink of bowls placed on hardwood, “This isn’t for you,” she says, voice teasing, “Hyejin is a big eater, mom and dad sent over so much food.”

This bothers Hyejin for some reason.  She knows it’s true, it’s not like Sujeong is making up unflattering things about her.  But. Still. It rubs her the wrong way. She’s clearly feeling embarrassed, and she doesn’t like it.

She takes the final steps into the kitchen, unsure of what expression she’s making.  But it must be ok, because Sujeong motions for her, pats the seat next to hers.

“Byulyi is staying for dinner,” she says as if Hyejin hasn’t seen the other girl right across from them, obviously not going anywhere.

“Ok,” she mumbles, tilting her chin into her chest, waiting for whatever else her sister is going to point out.

“Do you go to school here?” Byulyi asks, ripping Hyejin’s stare right to her.

“She’s staying here for the summer,” Sujeong answers for her, “mom let her come for a little vacation.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles at Hyejin, who finally opens , talking quietly.  

“I’ll go back to Jeonju for school,” she says, drawing her knees closer to her chest, more or less speaking into the skin of her knee.

“Hyejinnie always gets what she wants,” Sujeong says with a laugh, “as soon as she mentioned spending the summer in the city mom was already pushing her out the door and into my arms.”

Why is Sujeong making her appear so...annoying, bothersome ?  And why is it bothering her so much?

Hyejin doesn’t respond to that, choosing to instead stare at the bowls and dishes of food on the table.

“Oh,” Sujeong says after a couple of minutes of talking, “we should eat and talk.”

She pushes a bowl of rice towards Byulyi.  Hyejin sighs to herself, glad she can finally eat and have an excuse not to talk.  

She’s pushing side dishes into her own plate when Byulyi calls for her.

“Hyejin-ah,” she says, holding the rice bowl towards her, “here.”

She takes it, without making eye contact.  She’s irritated and annoyed but she knows she can’t just leave without Sujeong making a big deal out if it.

In her haste, they clumsily brush hands, Hyejin’s fingertips grazing over the back of Byulyi’s knuckles.  She pulls back quickly, the bowl quivers in her grip. Nervous, her eyes look determinedly at her dish as she shovels rice quickly, covering her vegetables and meat.

Sujeong grabs for the bowl next, seemingly unaware of the storm forming inside Hyejin, instead making light conversation, laughing along to whatever story she’s telling.  Hyejin eats quickly, barely tastes the food as she swallows. She keeps her head down, getting up as soon as the last bit of rice is gone.

“Thanks,” she says, quiet, “I’m going to bed.”

She walks way too fast up the stairs, in her haste the bedroom door slams behind her.  It’s loud and she knows the other two have heard her but she doesn’t care.

Her room is a bit cooler now that the sun has set fully.  She lays in the bed again and drifts off to sleep.

-

Byulyi is in their living room the next morning.  The morning air is chilly, breezing through the open windows.

“Good morning, Hyejin-ah,” Byulyi says as she looks up from her phone, locking it absentmindedly.  

“Morning,” she murmurs, ducking out of the living room and into the kitchen.  

The morning is quiet, the news on the television.  Hyejin thinks maybe she should be questioning why Byulyi is there but a part of her has the feeling it’ll be more of constant than a one off.

She pulls out a bowl from a cupboard, a bag of cereal, the half full container of milk from the refrigerator.  

Hyejin leans on the counter, chews slowly, unthinking.  The front door opens, she hears it close again and it’s not long before Sujeong is in the kitchen with her.

“You’re up,” she says, putting bags of groceries on the counter space, “are you going somewhere?” she motions to the bowl of cereal in front of Hyejin.

“Just hungry,” she shrugs, shoving another spoonful in , “didn’t wanna wait.”

Sujeong reaches over to ruffle her hair, clearly not upset about her attitude last night, probably didn’t even realize something was wrong.  Hyejin breathes easier.

“Well I’ll make some hot food if you want some,” Sujeong reaches over for the bags, takes out the fresh produce in their see through bags.

“Ok,” Hyejin answers cutely, around a mouthful of corn and milk.

“Disgusting,” Sujeong wrinkles her nose, pushing Hyejin’s face away from her with a firm shove to her cheek.

Hyejin laughs, grabbing her bowl and walking out of the kitchen.

She passes by the living room, considers going back to the her room and eating alone.  But the cool breeze from the outside is pleasant. She hovers enough that Byulyi looks up to meet her gaze.  Hyejin holds on tighter to the bowl, the edge digging into the inside of her palm. It would be weird to leave now, now that she’s been seen and she’s more or less stayed.  Hyejin takes small steps into the living room, sitting on the opposite side of the couch, eyes focused on the news headlines being discussed on the television.

She’s not sure if Byulyi is looking at her, but she feels hyper aware and self-conscious.  She hasn’t lifted her spoon once and she knows her cereal has gone past the point of soggy that she still finds enjoyable.

“When are you going back for school?” Byulyi asks, clearly trying to make things less uncomfortable.

Hyejin turns slightly to look at the older girl, balancing the bowl on her raised knee.  

“In a week,” she says, answers simply, “school is almost starting.”

Hyejin is only staying long enough to spend her birthday with Sujeong.  School starts a bit after that, and she’s sure her mother and father would like to see her before that.

Byulyi nods, “are you excited about going back?”

Hyejin really isn’t.  Most of the time she finds ways to get out of school, takes trips back here, occasionally goes to an trainee audition.  School hasn’t really ever held her interest long enough.

“Yeah,” she says instead, shrugging, “I’ll see my friends again.”

-

Wheein calls her when she goes back to her room, the other girl had gone on a vacation trip with her mother and grandma.

Hi she says, voice faraway, what’s going on?

Hyejin lays on her bed, putting her phone tight to her ear.

“Nothing,” she says, pauses, “just Sujeong has her friend over.”

Wheein hums into the phone, clearly distracted.

Friend? Wheein asks after a second.

“Yeah,” Hyejin picks up the phone, brings it closer to , “do you remember Moon Byulyi?”

There’s a small pause, long black hair?

“Yeah,” Hyejin sighs, “except she doesn’t really have long or black hair anymore.

She was nice , Wheein offers.

“She still is,” Hyejin corrects.  

It’s these words that make her think.  

It’s been very little, limited interactions between her and Byulyi.  Even more so than when she was still in middle school. And in these short, superficial moments, Byulyi has been kind.  Asking polite questions, smiling at her.

When she was younger she had looked up to her, had liked her kind smile, her easy going attitude.  Now Byulyi is not much different. But for some reason it’s her that is reacting so hostile.

She shakes her head, catches the end of Wheein’s drawling description of her grandmother’s house.

It’s just right by the beach , Wheein says dreamily, we’re going there after lunch.

Hyejin hums when Wheein pauses, asks questions about what she’s been doing, when she’s coming back.

Probably the day after you , Wheein answers, we’ll have a couple of days together.

Hyejin smiles to herself at that, realize how much she’s missed her friend.  Spending time in the city has been fun, but it’s lost its shine the more Hyejin stays at home, too apathetic to go into the crowded streets on her own.

“It’s our last year,” Hyejin says, a reaffirmation more to herself than the conversation she’s having with Wheein.

Yeah , Wheein answers anyways, voice crackling with static, last chance before everything changes.

Hyejin lets that fall between them.  She hears the sound of Sujeong and Byulyi getting up, picking up dishes, cleaning up.

They’ll probably go out somewhere after this.  Hyejin knows she’ll say no when they ask her if she wants to come and Sujeong won’t press in too much, letting her be.

She hangs up minutes later, waiting for the footsteps that should be coming towards her, right outside her door.  

They eventually come, muffled by the carpet, slow steady steps, echoing loudly as they make their abrupt stop at the other side of the bedroom door.

Hyejin holds her breath to hear the sharp rapping against the wooden door, ringing loudly.  Hyejin waits for the door to open either way, as Sujeong tends to push through. But nothing happens for a while and then there’s another sharp round of knocks.

“Come in?” she asks out loud, watching as the door knob turns slowly, blinking stupidly when Byulyi’s head appears from the other side.

“Hi,” she says, already smiling, “Sujeong and I are going to go shop around,” she leans a little closer, “you should come!”

She’s prepared to decline, spend another day watching old movies on the living room couch, make food from leftovers in the refrigerator, sleep.  Byulyi keeps looking at her, Hyejin is aware that she’s taken way too long to answer such a simple, breezy question. She gets caught in how awkward she feels, how much she wishes Byulyi wasn’t asking her.

“Hurry up!” Sujeong calls from some other place in the house.  With the look in Byulyi’s eyes it feels like the decision has been made for her.

-

The weather is still unbearably hot, sticking the cotton of her shirt to the back of her neck with sweat.  She winces when she feels how sweat just rolls off her. Byulyi, in her short hair and t-shirt, looks every bit cool and unbothered. Sujeong walks in step with her, Hyejin pushed behind them. They just started their trip and Hyejin is already tired and ready to go home.

They walk down the bustling streets of the shopping district. Hyejin overhears the conversation between her sister and her friend.  She can tell it is the other girl’s first time in the area, asking simple questions, looking carefully at every little thing they pass.  Hyejin slows her steps, is satisfied when the gap between them broadens. She spaces out for the most part, but catches moments in accidental refocus.  Sujeong and Byulyi walk closer to each other, Hyejin’s look lingers on their joint arms, their giggling smiles.

She wonders why she’s not enjoying this.  

Hyejin spends most of their trip sulking.  Trudging in the back and wanting to go home.

Eventually the sun begins to set, the long summer day doing nothing more than adding to Hyejin’s irritation.  They stop by a food stall, the grill sizzling as the old lady fills it with meat, fried cakes, and rice. Hyejin watches as the smoke plumes up overhead, curling languidly over them.  

Sujeong asks her if she wants anything.  But Hyejin realizes she’s not hungry even after the long day.  There’s just a sour, bitter taste in that she can’t figure out.  She shakes her head and shuffles away from the crowd, looking hard at the sidewalk, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the concrete.

“Here,” she can smell the food before she even looks up.

Byulyi looks at her, again kindly, completely unaware, she holds a small paper container of food, laddled to the top with meat and rice.

Sujeong is still by the stall waiting for the rest of their food.  Hyejin reaches for it slowly, realizing how stupid she must look just staring at the other girl, rudely ignoring her.

Byulyi grins at her.  Hyejin gets distracted by it.  Her fingers blindly grab for the paper bowl.  Their fingers touch again and this time Hyejin has to will herself not to pull away completely, not to let the bowl fall between them.

This time there’s something curling in the lowest part of her stomach.  A slow unfurl, like the smoke over them. Like clouds in a summer storm breaking away.  

Sujeong calls for Byulyi and she looks away.

Hyejin watches her then, looks at her with intent.  Byulyi’s profile is presented to her, the sloping of her dainty nose, the swooping curve of her lashes.  The way her short hair curls around her ears, glinting as the lights of the stall turn brighter with the setting sun.

Hyejin holds on tighter to her bowl of food, and she realizes this might be a problem.

-

Days pass and Hyejin finds herself quietly waiting the return of fall.  She packs her things as the time to go home looms over her. She misses her mom and dad, misses Wheein, misses the quietness.  

Sujeong takes her places and more times than not Byulyi tags along.  

She realizes that it’s Byulyi’s first time in the city, watching from afar the excitement in her eyes when they go to tourist attractions.  Hyejin attempts to keep her distance, unsure how to act after that one day.

She’s careful not to touch the other girl, careful not to do anything to incite a smile from the other.  She tries so desperately not to feel what she felt that day.

It's unpleasant and it leaves her frustrated. She's not sure what it is but she hates it.

So they do these little trips whenever Sujeong has time and Byulyi always asks her if she wants to join and no matter how many times she practices saying no she ends up dragging behind them.

She averts her gaze when Byulyi talks to her. Answers in polite, clipped sentences.

It's doable.

Whatever it is Hyejin is trying to do.

She must be doing a well enough job at it if Sujeong hasn’t scolded her about it.  It’s like nothing is wrong and Hyejin wonders if she’s really this great of an actress.

-

She wakes up on the day of her birthday feeling...nothing.  

When she walks down to the small living room, there’s no one there.  The clock in the kitchen ticks on pass 12 in the afternoon. Sujeong is at work and Hyejin decides to get a bowl of cereal for lunch.

Hyejin is 18 today.  And she tries to tell herself she isn’t disappointed at the lack of celebrations.  She had asked for this, didn’t want a big fuss. She’s not a little kid anymore, she tells herself, she doesn’t need balloons or cake or gifts.

Wheein sends her cute birthday themed stickers, leaves her a voice memo of her singing the happy birthday song for her.

Hyejinnie ah, happy birthday!

When you come back let’s celebrate!

She’s giggling, Hyejin laughs too when she listens to it.

She’s going home tomorrow morning, Hyejin takes her bowl of cereal back up to her room, kicking open the suitcase she dragged out of the main hallway closet.

It’s a perfectly mundane day.  Hyejin spends the day packing slowly, texting Wheein back.  She takes a shower when she’s done, dries her hair with Sujeong’s blow dryer.

Over the roar of the hot air she hears the door open.  The sun is setting, Sujeong calling for her, “Hyejin I’m home!”

She turns off the blow dryer, leaves the lights of the bathroom on as she steps quickly towards the kitchen.

Sujeong turns the stove on as Hyejin enters the kitchen.  She can already smell the food Sujeong has brought from Hyejin’s favorite restaurant.

She wants to say something.  Wants to tell Sujeong she didn’t have to do anything.  But she’s oddly touched, feels the odd feeling of pressure in , emotional.

“I’ll make some rice and side dishes,” Sujeong turns to smile at her, looking down at what Hyejin is wearing.

Hyejin looks down at herself, at her stretched out t-shirt, her thin cotton pajamas pants.

“What?” Hyejin asks, taking a step closer to the bags of take out on the counter.

“Nice birthday outfit,” Sujeong laughs.

“It’s not like we’re going out,” Hyejin makes a face, pulling out a sealed bowl of seafood stew.  

“Well either way,” Sujeong places a pan on the stove, “happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” Hyejin tries to sound sulky but the way that Sujeong smiles at her proves she didn’t do such a great job at it.  Sujeong’s phone rings.

She listens as Sujeong answers happily, puts it close to Hyejin’s ear so she can hear their mom.

I tried to call Hyejinnie but she didn’t answer.

-

Her room is dark by the time she hangs up.  Sujeong’s phone battery drained. She feels silly for missing her mom and dad.  Especially when she’s going home in the morning. But hearing them both wish her a happy birthday, telling her about their days.  It’s a weird feeling.

When she enters the living room Sujeong is taking plates a bowls of food away from the kitchen.  She stops in her tracks and beckons to the back, “let’s have dinner outside,” she says.

There’s mosquitoes bumping along the balcony’s lanterns.  The night rings quietly with the sound of crickets, the loud sound of traffic below them.  Sujeong has set up their table with food, cushions placed along the table.

Hyejin sits as Sujeong places the last plates on the table, sitting across from her.  They start to eat slowly, Hyejin piling her plate high with her favorites. She smiles at Sujeong thankfully, pleased that she gets to eat all she wants.

The doorbell rings after a couple of minutes.  Sujeong gets up without saying anything, still chewing her last bite of food.  She’s not really sure what she’s expecting. She doesn’t really think anything of it, instead just keeps eating, trying to figure out what she wants to eat next.

“Happy birthday, Hyejin-ah.”

Hyejin looks up, knows already who it is from the low voice, the kindness that edges onto softness.  She watches Byulyi cross over the door’s threshold, already smiling at her even she’s only halfway to her.

Byulyi sits across from her, where Sujeong was sitting before.  It’s better than having her sit next to her, she decides, when Sujeong drops down in the empty spot to her left and their shoulders bump.  It’s a tight squeeze now and it makes it hard for her to breathe. She tries to inhale quietly, shuddering when a warm breeze picks up.

“I got you something,” Byulyi says after she settles down, pulling out a small gift bag, a glossy red finish shining under the flickering lamps.

“Oh no, thank you,” Hyejin shakes her head, her cheeks oddly flushing, “you don’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s ok,” Byulyi’s smile widens, “it’s something small, you shouldn’t feel bad about it.”

Hyejin’s gaze flickers to her sister, who shrugs at her as she reaches for a bottle of soda across the table.  Finding no help out of her sister, she reaches for the bag slowly, fingers looping over the corded handles.

“Thank you,” she whispers, bowing as best she can while sitting.

Byulyi keeps her eyes on her, silently prodding her to open it.  

“It’s not a lot,” Byulyi says again, when Hyejin opens it and pulls out a small black paper jewelry box, “just something from the stalls.”

Hyejin opens the box, watches as the simple band of a ring rattles with it.  It’s gold, too shiny to be worth much. There’s nothing spectacular about it.  Just a simple band.

“They had an engraving machine,” Byulyi says, “so I asked for your birthday on the inside.”

She lifts it up, turns it so she can see the inside and looks at the the row of neat numbers, 950723.

It feels too intimate.  Such a cheap last minute gift.

She tries to smile back, but it feels weak even to her.

“Thank you,” she says again.

The plates have been emptied, stacked in the middle as everything is finished.  The night has gotten cooler, wispy clouds, weaving between the few barely visible stars.

Sujeong picks up the plates in an easy swoop, leaving them behind in the quiet.

It’s been hours of listening to the other two talking, conversations about their last high school days, laughing at old jokes they had.  Sujeong tries to get her to join, and she does, in limited sentences, jokes that are too obvious for her not to make.

It’s almost midnight and she should really go to bed, has to catch the train back home.

She freezes when Byulyi gets up, walks around their table and sits next to her.  She can hear the water of the sink running, the sound of dishes being washed.

“You should go to sleep,” Byulyi says, looking at her phone, “you’re leaving tomorrow right?”

Hyejin nods, stiff.

“It’s your last year in that school,” Byulyi states, “you should really make the most out of it.”

“I’ll try my best,” Hyejin says.  

There’s not really much she wants to do after school.  The idea of going to a university isn’t necessarily appealing to her.  She doesn’t have a lot of interests.

The harsh white light floods over them, the silver of Byulyi’s hair glints too brightly.

She wills herself to finally make eye contact with the other.  She’s still surprised when she meets Byulyi’s stare. It’s not intimidating or uncomfortable but something else she just can’t understand.

They’re close, Hyejin realizes, her heart starts to beat erratically, her palms start to sweat.  It’s that same feeling again, a searing against her chest, aching deep in her stomach. A strange, foreign feeling.

She leans forward, feels like it’s the only logical step.  Byulyi’s eyes flicker at the movement, expression changing, confused for a fraction of a second.

Hyejin panics, wants to pull back, but Byulyi seems to understand something she doesn’t.

“You’ll do fine,” Byulyi grins reaches a hand to ruffle her hair playfully, and then drops a kiss to the curve of her hair line.  

It reminds her of her mother, in the mornings when she used to send her off to school.  When Hyejin would be sad or hurt and wanted to be reassured. Like when she felt so unbearably small and vulnerable and wanted her mom to hold her and cradle her to sleep.

“Thank you,” she whispers again, for the third time that night.

She gets up and turns away.

It’s quiet by the time she finally lets herself lay down.  She had heard Byulyi leave, front door closing.

Hyejin had held her breath when Sujeong had passed by her door.  

Now she lays still, the time on her phone passing her by.  The strange feeling in her stomach, spreading to her chest.  It has been so familiar but hard to name, just a half step away from her to catch on.

As she lays down, her hand rises to touch where Byulyi had kissed her, at the side of her temple, ever so tenderly and reassuring.

The intensity of those feelings, eating at her, uncomfortably bright and burning.  Hyejin realizes just how she feels about the other girl, how much she likes her.

It’s a good thing she’ll never see her again.

-

It’s been a couple of months since school has started.  The summer has turned into the brisk early mornings Hyejin finds herself walking through.

She waits for the bus in the cold, jacket covering her uniform skirt halfway.

Wheein stands next to her, hands deep in the pockets of her own coat, shivering.

The crowd of students walking to school pass them by, hurrying to not be late.  

Eventually the bus picks them up, halfway full with sleepy commuters.  

They’ve been doing this for months now.  Hyejin sits with the side of her head against the window, holding on to her bookbag as the bus rattles away from the stop.

The commute to the city is lengthy, about two hours.  They’ll take the bus to the train station and go from there.  But she’s gotten used to it, falling asleep during the journey, waking up right before their final stop.

Wheein follows her easily, eager to do anything outside of their boring lives, listless hours spent in school.    

The restlessness of the subway platform no longer fazes her, she stares blankly at the train schedule, unfocused, waiting.

They’ve been doing this for months.  Hyejin has lost the glamour of it, the excitement of it.  With every try out, audition, song she sings, it becomes boring.

Disheartening.  If she’s honest with herself.

No calls back, no contract signings.

Wheein falls asleep once they find a seat in the subway cart.

Hyejin keeps her eyes open, set on not missing their stop.  

Wheein’s been lucky.  Hyejin’s eyes flicker to the side, the blurry outline of Wheein’s profile in her view.  

She’s gotten offers, interest.  

She’s aware she’s not the ideal.  

Her skin is a shade too dark.  Her eyes too small, her expression too mature.  She’s a couple of pounds over dainty, the antithesis of an idol.  

They get above ground, the late morning streets already crowded.  There’s an audition they’re meant to go to. Hyejin turns to face Wheein, struggling to fix her bookbag straps.

“Let’s not go,” she says, grinning, “let’s do something fun instead.”

-

She’s alone.  

Winter has come early, breath curling away from her, reaching the spotted sky.  She sits by herself under a restaurant tent. Uses the last of her change for some hot food, sizzling pieces of meat loaded into thin paper plates.

She’s far away from the the crowds, near an emptying side street.  The people in the tent with her are few, two girls sharing drinks, an older man looking tired and worn down by the day.

The sound of grilling meat fills the air alongside the white static noise of the night.  Wheein had stayed home, one of the rare moments where she behaves like her grandmother always wants her to.  Hyejin gets out too easily. Spoiled and charming, it’s no wonder why she’s so far from home now.

She looks up from her plate, a random movement.  Her gaze freezes at the person walking by the remote set up.  Their hair is longer, a dark brown, an awkward length cutting off at her mid neck.

“Hyejin-ah,” she calls for her, smiling as she walks closer to her, hovering by the empty chair across from her, “I didn’t know you were visiting Sujeong again.”

Byulyi sits without asking, pulling the chair out with a screeching sound, running a hand through her hair, musing it up.  Hyejin stares at the way her long fingers break up the strands, how her hand drops to the table, fingers splayed against the smooth surface.

“Would you like some?” Hyejin offers, pushing her plate towards the other, giving an apologetic smile as she offers her used chopsticks as well.

Byulyi laughs, small and still kind, as she pushes the plate back, instead raises her hand to get the attention of the waitress.  Hyejin tries not to sulk, furiously trying to keep her face neutral, mentally berating herself at this feeling coming out of nowhere.  She’s not sure what she’s upset about. That Byulyi didn’t want to share her used chopsticks? Even she knows that's unsanitary and unnecessary.  

Byulyi gets her own plate and utensils, tapping her chopsticks against the paper plate, “what are you doing all alone?”

Hyejin stops chewing at the question, she knows this was going to be her first question.  She shrugs, swallows.

Byulyi looks at her for a second, eyes searching.  She smiles, because that’s all she seems to do. A smile that rubs Hyejin the wrong way.  Sweet and caring and just a little bordering on condescending. Not enough for it to be there but enough for Hyejin to see it.

“I’ll take you home to Sujeong,” she says, grabbing meat from her plate, “so she doesn’t worry about you.”

Hyejin doesn’t want to go home, Sujeong doesn’t even know she’s in the city.  She stops what she’s doing, leans forward on her stool.

“I don’t want to go home,” she says, she can hear the pout threatening to form, used to acting like this.  Getting her way.

Byulyi blinks at her, eyes questioning.

“Sujeong unnie doesn’t know I’m here,” Hyejin admits, “I only came here because I was bored.”

Byulyi sighs, “you shouldn’t be alone out here,” she taps her fingers along the table, “you’re too young to be doing these kinds of things.”

Hyejin stares at her hands, distracting her from the words.  She knows she’s being scolded. She’s used to being told off.  But hearing these kind of words in that kind of tone keeps her mood souring.  

And yet.

And yet her stomach flutters.  Hundreds and hundreds of moths trying to escape her and go to the glowing light from the lanterns pouring over Byulyi.  The skin of her palms itching with how worried, concerned Byulyi sounds about her. Attention on her.

“Young people these days are so reckless,” Byulyi teases, stern voice edging away.  Hyejin’s eyes snap back at her. She must have looked like she was sulking (she was) and she hates herself for showing just how right Byulyi is with her joke.  

Hyejin is young and haphazardly taking her days one at time.  And that means Byulyi smiles at her like she’s too beneath her.  It means Byulyi pats her head like a pet and gives her cheap metal rings on her birthday like they don’t and never will mean a thing.  

“I’ll take you to the train,” Byulyi offers but Hyejin hears how it’s more like a definite statement, informing her more than anything.

She gets up without much of a fight, pulling her coat closer to her as they step away from the crowd and the light.

The streets are pretty deserted.  It won’t be a while before they get closer to the major part of the city.  The night is dark, an inkiness that spooks her, sends shivers down her arms.  

Byulyi walks next to her, hair ruffling when a late night breeze picks up.  Her heart picks up, a stuttering mess as her eyes turn and catch the soft curve of Byulyi’s lower lip.  It’s suddenly hard to breathe and it feels like her body is a second away from giving up on her. Byulyi turns to look at her, mouth opening to say, ask, something.

Hyejin stops walking, she reaches for Byulyi’s opened coat, pulls her down just a bit.

She kisses her.  Close mouthed and hard, more of a knock between both their mouths and it sets her skin on fire, her heart vibrating, breath gone.

It’s a second at most, it feels like a lifetime.  It feels like Hyejin spends years and years pressing dumbly against the older girl’s, eyes screwed tightly shut, breath catching in .

Byulyi pushes her away, Hyejin stumbles back, goosebumps rising up her arms under her coat.

She steadies herself, watches as Byulyi touches the tips of her fingers to , wiping furiously when their eyes meet.

“Hyejin, no,” she frowns, voice strangely tight, “you…” she pauses, face changing into an expression Hyejin can’t understand, “you can’t go kissing people like me,” she takes a step back, “you should be doing this with someone your age.”

They hear the tires of a car rolling against the street from far away.

“You should only kiss people you like,” Byulyi tries again.

Hyejin doesn’t say anything.  Her voice leaves her and the pressure building behind her ears is embarrassing.  She’ll die if she talks and her voice breaks.

Byulyi’s eyes are still on her and Hyejin can’t bring herself to look at anything but the way her white sneakers are scuffed and dirtied, and then at the shiny leather of Byulyi’s loafers, ankles bared under her rolled up jeans.

Byulyi starts to walk away, slowly, something Hyejin understands means to follow her.  

Their walk to the train station is silent, awkwardly suffocating.  Byulyi hadn’t given her time to say anything. Instead she had undone everything inside Hyejin with a wipe of , the grimace on her face.  

Byulyi turns to look at her for one last time, the bright lights of the station washes her out, skin pale under the blistering white.  Her hand lands heavily on Hyejin’s head, Byulyi rustles her a bit, tries to shoehorn a feeling of easiness and familiarity.

“Stop trying to grow up so fast.”

You shouldn’t have kissed me.

“I care about you like a sister.”

I don’t like you.

It’s clear and calculated and it pierces right through Hyejin’s heart.

She nods, holding on to the ticket Byulyi had insisted on paying, eager to send her away.

She sits herself in the mostly empty train cart, the stops flying by pass her.  The prickling of tears sting the corners of her eyes.

But Hyejin swears she’ll never cry over a girl, over Byulyi ever again.