Hyejin is only made out of skin and bones.  And she knows she’s not exactly what others find attractive.  She’s a shade too dark, a bit too short. She carries more weight than she should and her face is anything but conventional.  

She hears the snide remarks behind her back, sees the looks they throw her way.  But she can ignore them most of the time. It’s when she goes to an audition, among the many snow white pretty girls that she can’t help herself.  She sings the best she can, puts as much emotion and effort to the words she’s memorized, repeated to herself over and over again.

And then she stands in front of the panel and all she can do is nod at their grievances.  Not tall enough, too fat.  They like what she brings with her voice, expressions, but offer her solutions, surgery, diets, complete image change.

She says no and they say no back.

She spends evenings after these auditions in her room, crying quietly at herself, hating the way she looks, wishing she was born someone completely new and different.

Everyone else in school is busy with exams, colleges and universities.  Wheein smiles giddily at her at the new company who has agreed to picked her up.  Hyejin suppresses her envy when she hears the girl group under the company, remembers she was just listening to one of their songs the other day.

Hyejin doesn’t have any of this.  She doesn’t care enough to study, she can’t get signed.  

Summer comes quickly.  Wheein moves out to the city to begin her life as a trainee and Hyejin stays back, spending lonely scorching hot days in her own self hating, wallowing.

Hyejin sits in her dark room, listening to the sounds of her mother making dinner, cleaning before her father comes home.  She reaches for her phone and switches on music she’s downloaded, volume low, only for her to listen to.

In these stretching moments she thinks about Byulyi.  She thinks about that winter night months ago. Sometimes when she’s trying to sleep she tries to make herself believe she can still feel the phantom press of Byulyi’s lips against her own.

But it’s all wistful thinking and it’s an opening wound she still flinches about when she thinks about it.  The shove have been nothing, the hardness of her words have been more than she could handle.

-

WA Entertainment is not impressive.  Hyejin hasn’t really heard of it. But they’re holding an audition and she thinks a company so small can’t be that high risk.

When it’s her turn she feels the way nerves begin to run down her.  A shivering warmness that makes her shudder. Her make up feels too bare now, she can just see how glossy her face must look under the lights.  There’s three people sitting across from her, clipboards in hand, looking at her expectantly.

She swallows, it catches at , she feels like if she opens her heart would leap right out of her.  She introduces herself with a shaky voice, clearing when her voice strains out. She can feel herself blushing and it only makes her more nervous.

They discuss her vocals, more than anything.  They make a passing judgement about her weight, but it’s such a passing comment that Hyejin can’t help but feel there’s more unsaid.  She goes home after that, falls asleep on the train back home. Unsure of what this audition will bring for her.

When she gets home no one asks her about it.  No one really knows where she went. The house is empty, her mom and dad both still at work.  Hyejin makes herself something to eat, distractedly frying up rice and leftovers, listening to the sizzle of the pan, the summer breeze.  She’ll be alone for a couple of hours. She’ll most likely sleep them off, maybe watch a movie from the small number of dvds they have scattered around.

The nervousness, excitement of the audition has gone and all she has left is the same droning boredom she’s spent her summer under.  

She eats slowly, sitting on the floor of the empty living room.  The day drags on, the sun outside still shining bright even as the hours pass by.

Hyejin gets up to bring over some blankets and pillows, forming a nest for her to lay on the floor.  She’s falling asleep and the cool living room floor seems a lot more appealing then going back to her stuffy room.

She stretches out, until her knees pop, shoulders rolling back.  She curls into herself, on her side, away from the streaming sun.  Her eyes close and she falls asleep.

It’s days later.  The sun still hesitant to go down, crisp mornings and breezy dusk hours.  

Hyejin is in bed, listening to the sounds of white noise, the buzzing chirp of grasshoppers roaming underneath the lights of fireflies.  She’s half asleep, as the sleepy slow summer keeps her under its spell. Her heart skips a beat, nerves prickling when her phone begins to ring.  She rolls around, feels around at her bedside drawer, frowning when it keeps ringing and her hand finds no purchase. She shifts and feels the hard plastic of her phone digging at the small of her back, painful but dull.  Hyejin sits up, mouth dry, eyes hurting. She doesn’t really look at the number as she slides her phone open, pressing it close to her ear.

It’s this Ahn Hyejin-ssi?

The voice isn’t one she knows but she’s still disoriented with sleep when she answers.

“Yes, this is me,” she says, voice slurring.

This is WA Entertainment.  We are calling because you made it to the next round of our training program.

Hyejin feels how her fingers go lax, almost dropping her phone.  Her brain scrambles to wake up completely, then to make any sense on the sentence she’s just heard.  Her silence must sound like an answer as the lady continues to speak.

If you are still interested we will like for you to take part of our program.  This means you will have to be available for daily practices and training.

Hyejin blinks quickly, clearing as she finally attempts to speak.

“Training?” she asks, slowly.

Yes, our training program requires day long daily training in order to ensure the best possible outcome.

It excites her, she realizes, heart beating rapidly, a break from the monotonous life she’s been living the entirety of the summer.  An adventure, finally something she thinks she would want to do, maybe a step closer to reaching a dream.

“Ok,” she whispers, but she knows the other hears her.

-

She walks through Sujeong’s apartment in some sort of trance.  The carpet and tiled floor are dingier, dirtier than the last summer she was there.  

Her dad walks through the door, box of Hyejin’s clothes in his arm.

Sujeong smiles as she helps him, placing it on the low table on the living room.  

“It’ll do you how it did me,” Sujeong says, turning her smile at her, not one bit bitter.  Hyejin feels it again, the feeling she’s been pushing down since the morning they had driven up to the city.

Hyejin looks at her bare feet, curling over the warm floor.  

Sujeong is leaving behind the small amount of dishes, the minimal furniture, the bed Hyejin had slept on one summer ago.  

“You do your job here,” Sujeong pulls her away from her thoughts, “and I’ll do my job helping mom and dad.”

Hyejin nods, braving on a smile.  But she knows her eyes are glazing over.  Tears gathering dangerously at the corner of her eyes, threatening to fall.

Her dad walks up to her, face sad, crumbling but mouth still turned up.  He hugs her and she can’t help it. Her tears are hot, quickly falling from her eyelashes in slow languishing runs down her cheeks.

She’s embarrassed but most of all she’s sad.

Hyejin holds on tighter to her dad, asking him for a bit more time.  But they have to get back home and Sujeong has to fill in Hyejin’s bedroom with her own things.

She’s hiccuping when they leave her.  Promise to call her when they get home.

Hyejin turns to look at the small apartment and cries again.

-

The first day of her training she’s paired up with another girl.  Her name is Kim Yongsun and she’s everything Hyejin wishes she was.  They bow at each other, exchange greetings. The person who had brought Hyejin into the practice room informs her that Yongsun is her training partner until further notice.  

Hyejin listens as she explains the set up.  Yongsun and her are Team A, a possible singing duo if all things go right, if they pass all their evaluations and benchmarks.

Hyejin turns to look at the other girl, her face is as round as hers but her body is much slimmer, naturally smaller than Hyejin.  Her eyes must trail over the other too slowly, too judging, Yongsun shrinks into herself, crossing her arms over her chest.

Their vocal trainer leaves them with instructions to get familiar, giving them a bit of time before their vocal lessons start.  The door closes and Hyejin levels her stare at the other girl again. She feels silly when she realizes how shy she’s feeling, unable to say anything now that they’re alone.

Kim Yongsun ducks her head awkwardly, a half bow, half nod, “I’m Kim Yongsun,” she repeats her greeting.  Hyejin takes note of the dips of her voice, naturally rising in falling, a bit like a song.

“Nice to meet you,” she bows deeply, used to the natural politeness instilled by her family, “I’m Ahn Hyejin.”

Another beat of silence and Hyejin almost sighs in relief when Yongsun talks again.

“I’m from 91,” she says, pointing at herself, expression waiting for Hyejin to answer.

“95,” Hyejin answers quickly, bowing again, “you’re an unnie.”

Yongsun raises her hands at the gesture, her laugh spilling over.  It’s loud and abrupt and it makes Hyejin smile.

“You’re really polite,” Yongsun laughs, bowing again to mirror Hyejin.

“Sorry,” Hyejin apologizes, and Yongsun laughs again, nervous and unapologetically bright.

Hyejin really likes it.

-

They meet in the mornings, shuffling into the practice rooms, throats still raw and aching from hours of scales, repeating over and over notes too high for them, lines from their practice songs.  Yongsun comes in with her swollen face, slicked back hair. Hyejin with her eyes still half closed from her quick naps on the bus.

Their coach runs over the same parts, over-analyzes the way they harmonize, how Hyejin’s voice gets breathy too quickly, how Yongsun strains when trying to hit her high notes.  

Hyejin sings until her eyes begin to droop with her tiredness, until Yongsun’s voice catches painfully in , dry and raspy and unpleasant.  

Their days are like this, never out of routine, they start to merge together, into one never ending cycle of vocal practice and dancing lessons.  Hyejin’s body begins to ache and her appetite begins to waver with the long hours she puts in. The long tiring days mean she doesn’t have much time for anything besides singing and dancing.  She loses weight with the constant moving, the long hours doing dance moves that are too hard for her to do properly but never giving up. Her face begins to thin out, her stomach is still soft but so much flatter.  She looks at her mirror after she takes a shower and she sees the curves that were hiding under her weight. Her thighs don’t slim down like the rest of her, they round off and Hyejin wonders if she should start running.

Her eyes wander to Yongsun, notices her body has thinned out too, not as full as Hyejin, the lines of her body straighter, like the ideal types of so many boys, the body of an idol.  

Yongsun sighs as they rest on the floor.  It’s late at night and Hyejin winces as her calves burn with the simple choreography they’ve been trying to learn for their first evaluation.  The hardwood floor is cold where her pants ride up her legs, she shivers.

“Just a couple of more days,” Yongsun says, voice soft, hard to come out, “then hopefully training will let up a little bit.”

Hyejin doesn’t think it will but she nods, grateful that Yongsun is trying to soothe the ache of their days.

“Drink some tea and honey when you get home, unnie,” Hyejin says, making a face when Yongsun clears .  Hyejin realizes it sounds too caring, doesn’t like it, she looks away as she adds, “you have to sing in a couple of days.”

“Of course Hyejin-ah,” Yongsun answers quick enough, even if Hyejin doesn’t look at her she can hear the smile, always silly and bubbly.

-

It’s getting harder and harder as the days go by.  Hyejin sits in her empty room, thinking of her next rent payment.  When she had moved out she had take what she had saved from odd jobs and allowances to help with the bills.  WA Entertainment can’t offer her a dorm and soon Hyejin realizes just how small and new the company really is.  She’s one of the few trainees and she’s still not sure why. She remembers seeing other girls auditioning, girls who definitely fit the idol look a lot better than her.  She learns that for the most part the company makes money out of composing and recording. Sometimes when she walks through the hallways she sees other trainees from other companies that are being briefly trained by WA.  But Hyejin isn’t allowed to interact with them and they don’t pay her any mind.

Instead she spends her days with Yongsun, straining their voices and starts to learn how to properly dance like an idol not just the silly dances she’s done with Wheein.

But as her days get busier with the upcoming evaluation her income becomes a bigger problem.  She’s not exactly getting paid to sing in empty practice rooms. When Sujeong had rented the apartment it had been easier for her to keep because she had a job.  With Hyejin making no income the rooftop apartment is proving to be harder and harder to keep. Hyejin doesn’t want her parents to give up more for her, she keeps it quiet when they call her and ask her about her days, ask her if she needs them to send her anything.  She always says no.

One day, as if a miracle, their vocal coach approaches her, Yongsun taking a bathroom break.  She must look rough, must be letting on more than she thinks as she whispers to her, “Would you like to earn some extra money recording vocal guides?”

Hyejin nods, probably a bit too quickly, any money is good money at this point.

She records guides for girl groups she grew up listening to in order to try to keep going.  She scrapes by. Hyejin watches the warm days turn icy. Her small apartment has a working heater and keeps her warm.  She’s busy, doing something. It feels like it’s all small things but she feels blessed.

-

It’s finally, finally the day of their evaluation.  

Hyejin is dressed in a matching outfit with Yongsun, simple black pants and white t-shirts.  As they enter the evaluation room Hyejin finally gets a look at Team B.

The four girls next to them are beautiful.  They obviously have what she lacks. They’re tall, thin, fresh faced.  She gets nervous, throat dry. She shuffles up closer when they call them up, eyes expectant as they ask them to introduce themselves.  She faintly hears Yongsun introduce them as Team A, then herself, before turning to look at Hyejin.

-

Hyejin leans against the wall of the empty hallway.  It’s quiet, the lights a warm yellow. Her heart has slowed down and she feels like she can breathe again.  She thinks about the evaluation, the comments and concerns they had thrown at her. They had liked their vocals, their team work.  

But you need to lose a little more weight.  You need to work on a brighter image.

All grievances she had heard before but still a bit hard to take.  She sighs, slumping back. Her eyes shift when she hears footsteps, coming closer to her.

Yongsun appears from around the corner, in her matching outfit, eyes bright.

“Hyejin-ah,” she says, voice giddy, “we did better than the others.”

She sounds excited, happy, proud.  Hyejin had squashed those feelings when she had heard their praise afterwards.  

Promising vocals, great stage presence, improved dancing.  

“We scored higher than them!” Yongsun exclaims, loudly in the silent hallway.

“I know unnie,” Hyejin says, quietly.

They’ve made it one more step, one more day as trainees.  Closer to debut. Hyejin looks at Yongsun, she’s talking about what they had told her when she had shuffled up closer to ask, but it’s all muffled in her ears.

Hyejin realizes then that her and Yongsun will be together for a long while.  Through the struggles of training, through the possible turbulent years of debut, hopefully through the long years as established artists.  Hyejin refocuses, eyes stuck on the soft, lax smile resting at ease on Yongsun’s lips.

“Unnie,” she interrupts, eyes flickering to their feet, “you live alone, right?”

Yongsun stops her chattering, nods, eyes confused.

“It’s embarrassing to say,” Hyejin flushes with shame, “but it’s getting hard for me to pay rent...I was wondering if it was the same for you.”

She thinks maybe Yongsun gets enough of her with their long hours in their practice rooms, maybe trying to ask is stupid, maybe Yongsun really doesn’t want to keep spending so much time with a kid like her.

Yongsun takes a while to answer, as if trying to figure out the right way to let Hyejin off easily, “a little bit, yeah,” she says instead.

Hyejin can’t really bring herself to say it, they stand in an awkward silence, Hyejin’s blush darkening.

Then Yongsun smiles at her again, nervous giggle escaping her, “let’s move in together!” she says voice rushing in her excitement, “I mean,” she tacks on, “we’re going to be spending a lot of time together anyway.  It’ll be easier this way.”

“Ok, unnie,” Hyejin says, relieved, “ok let's move in together.”

-

Yongsun moves in when autumn officially bleeds into winter and the night air stings too unforgivingly.  

Hyejin watches as Yongsun brings up the last of her boxes, four small ones, sealed with masking tape.

“I’m here,” Yongsun says, unnecessarily.  

Hyejin laughs anyway.

Yongsun makes some rice and fries whatever Hyejin has in the refrigerator.  

It’s the first time in a long time that anyone has cooked a meal for her and it warms her stomach nicely, a pleasant burn against her chest.

Yongsun talks about their practice, what their vocal coach had said to them, about the colder weather, about what food she really wishes she could eat.  But she’s on a diet and she can’t afford to gain any more weight.

Hyejin nods along, picking up grains of rice with her chopsticks, dropping them into absentmindedly.

They wash the dishes and push the table away and by the time Hyejin is in her bed, her back aches and her feet hurt.  She can hear Yongsun shuffling outside, in her own makeshift bed on the couch Sujeong had left behind.

She falls asleep trying to hear if Yongsun has finally settled down.

-

The steam from the sweet potato drifts up, the soft white contrasting with the dark sky.

Yongsun leans over the railing, one hand curling over the cold metal, the other holding her own wrapped up sweet potato.  

The steam of it burns Hyejin’s mouth when she bites it, sending shivers as the roof of her tongue singes with the heat of it.

“I burned my tongue,” Yongsun turns to tell her, voice muffled, already laughing.

Hyejin rolls her eyes fondly, pressing her own tongue to the stinging burn in her own mouth.

It’s cold now, Hyejin thinks, burying her face into the collar of her coat, her cheeks aching with the cold.  It’s been a couple of months of her training.

They’ve pushed through a couple of evaluations.  No matter how much she does it, threatens to close up, body shivering with nerves.  And Yongsun is always there next to her. Introducing the team, herself, at eased.

Hyejin knows, that when, if, they debut Yongsun would be the natural leader.  Can’t help but think about how easily she has fallen under her lead, how much she’s put in Yongsun’s hands.  She wonders if Yongsun wants it, wants it as much as she does. Wonders if Yongsun has given it all up for this one half hope.

She turns to look at the older girl again, opens in a question that gets stuck inside .

Can I trust you?

-

It’s another late night where Hyejin has to fight to keep her eyes open.  She leans against the front of the couch, sitting on the floor, table already pulled out by Yongsun.

The television is showing the late night news, news anchor running through the major world events.  Her legs hurt, she kicks them out, stretching them out.

She can hear Yongsun in the small kitchen, frying up eggs and rice, the only thing they have to eat.

“It’s late, we shouldn’t really eat this,” Yongsun says when she finally walks in, placing the bowls of food on the table, smiling, like always.

Hyejin stares at her, eyes still half closed, but heart picking up an erratic speed.  Through her tiredness there’s a long forgotten memory. The easy smiles, the pleasant voice, overly polite, bordering suffocating actions.  

Hyejin looks at Yongsun and her brain can only think about Byulyi.  

It’s the same kind of smile, the same kind of voice, babying, belittling.  Hyejin realizes now what she has been feeling towards Yongsun. The fragile easiness she has been treading on.

She hasn’t thought about Byulyi in months, too busy, too tired, too afraid to think about her.  But Yongsun has been a constant reminder, a lingering feeling about the other girl.

Her cheeks heat up when she remembers their kiss.  When she remembers how Byulyi had pushed her away, the last smile she had given her as they had reached the train platform.

She looks down at her bowl, moving the rice around, but her eyes can’t help it, when they shift to look back at Yongsun and she sees that same kind of smile.

It curls unpleasantly under her skin, a pin prick of discomfort, confusion.

They eat in silence, the television playing in the background.  Hyejin has a hard time swallowing her food, body tensed at thoughts, the scenes from a year ago.

The news switch on to commercials and Yongsun bobs her head to the tune of jingle, clearly tired but still restless.  Hyejin wonders how just similar she is to Byulyi. Yongsun is evervascent, bright, overwhelming. Byulyi, Hyejin remembers her laid back posture, her soft, subtle presence.  A lazy, suffocating feeling.

“Unnie,” she says, voice catching a bit.

She gets Yongsun’s attention quickly, she stops moving, instead gives that smile again, leaning forward.

“Yes, Hyejin-ah?” she asks eyes focused on her.

“Have you ever kissed someone?” Hyejin asks the question quickly, cheeks reddening with shame.

Hyejin knows Yongsun has.  Hyejin knows that with the way Yongsun looks every bit the typical ideal type beauty that she has kissed many boys.

Confusion flickers across her expression for a second, Hyejin sees it and she thinks for a second she won’t answer.

“This is a weird question,” Yongsun says, laughing nervously.  She swallows, reaches for her chopsticks.

“Have you unnie?’ Hyejin pushes.

The scrapping of wood against the plastic of the bowl rings loudly, and then Yongsun opens , “of course I have,” she looks at Hyejin, “have you?”

Hyejin nods without much thought, quickly and trying to not lose her nerve, “only one person.”

Yongsun laughs again, just as nervous as the first time they had met, “makes sense for a baby like you.”

Hyejin frowns at Yongsun, the words give her enough to ask the next question.

“Can I kiss you?”

Yongsun blinks rapidly at the question, expression confused, surprised, uneasy.

“It’ll be weird if I’ve only kiss one person before becoming an idol,” Hyejin reasons, leaning closer, “please?”

Yongsun’s cheeks have started to tint pink, a slow flush that Hyejin notices begins to reach down her neck.

She doesn’t keep urging, because between her rapidly beating heart, vile rising up , she knows Yongsun isn’t going to deny her.

Yongsun leans forward, across the table, waiting for Hyejin to do the same, “This is going to be weird,” Yongsun says.

Hyejin gets on her knees, leans close enough that she feels the words more than she hears them.

Yongsun doesn’t move, doesn’t make it easier and again Hyejin is forcefully reminded of that night, in the cold.  How hard she had pressed to Byulyi’s lips, desperate.

So she does the same now, a press between their lips, chaste, nervous, what she knows from experience.

The commercials have faded back into the news and it’s the most mundane thing, Hyejin for some reasons pays more attention to this than the kiss she’s currently sharing with the other girl.

Hyejin pulls away first, sitting back on her knees, looking at Yongsun.

Yongsun smiles at her, clearly more at eased now that it’s over.

“That’s really not what I was expecting,” Yongsun admits, “it was cute.”

“It was a kiss,” Hyejin answers, “it’s not cute.”

Yongsun goes to grab Hyejin’s empty bowl, places it inside her own, “was that really a kiss?”

Hyejin doesn’t say anything to that, just watches as Yongsun brings in the other smaller bowls from their side dishes.

“Then you kiss me,” Hyejin nearly snaps, voice sharp.

Yongsun’s eyes snap back up to look at her, hands still holding on to their used dishes.

Hyejin doesn’t look away, keeps her gaze steady, suddenly feeling like she can’t lose, can’t lose one more thing to Yongsun.

“You’re being really weird today,” Yongsun sighs.

Hyejin thinks she’s backed out but Yongsun puts the dishes down, leaning over to reach behind Hyejin’s neck.  She’s pulled closer to the other girl, slowly, not tentative but more like a warning.

Eventually Yongsun closes her eyes and Hyejin watches with wide eyes as their lips get closer and closer.  When their lips touch it’s the same as the peck they had shared before before she can push away and say as much, Yongsun tilts her head.

Hyejin feels her breath catch as Yongsun’s mouth melds into hers, lips sliding against hers.  It’s something completely new to her, she feels like it’s something she shouldn’t be doing.  But still so painfully innocent.

Yongsun pulls away from her after a couple of seconds, Hyejin is thankful, out of breath, frazzled.

“Let’s go to sleep, Hyejin-ah,” Yongsun says, cheery.

-

Hyejin rolls on her side, listening as Yongsun had turned off the television, again settling to sleep.  She presses her fingers to her lips, remembering the kiss from just minutes ago. It hadn’t been unpleasant, but it hadn’t made her felt like how Byulyi had.  Her body had reacted appropriately, out of breath, skin shivering from the warmth of Yongsun’s mouth.

Hyejin drops her hand, closes her eyes.

She can’t help thinking back to Byulyi now.  Now that she sees all the similarities, the smiles, the tones.  But that crude, clumsy peck between them had made her feel a lot more than Yongsun had with her own kiss.

Her mind lingers back to what Yongsun had said about the peck Hyejin had given her.

Was that really a kiss?

Her mood sours when she realizes her kiss with Byulyi could have not been a kiss, could have not been her first kiss like how she had thought and kept to herself.  

When she wakes up, the sun is barely rising and Yongsun knocks on her door, urging her to get up.

Yongsun is dressed when Hyejin steps out of the bedroom, still disgruntled, still tired.

“We have practice, come on,” Yongsun says, a bit stern around the edges.  

Hyejin doesn’t answer, instead goes to the bathroom wordlessly.  

It’s cold when they step out into the winter morning, walking to the bus stop without speaking.  Hyejin doesn’t add to Yongsun’s chatter, just listens as they board the bus, sit in the back. The familiar route is grounding, Hyejin takes a deep breath, watches the way the window fogs up with it.

Yongsun calls for the stop and Hyejin shuffles behind her, walking towards the WA building.  

-

They’ve spent the morning attempting dance practice, following simple step and sequences, trying to ease them into more complicated moves.

Around noon their dance instructor lets them break for lunch.  Hyejin sits on the floor, leaning against the mirror, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the end of her shirt.  

She goes stiff when Yongsun sits next to her, close enough that their knees bump.

“You’re being weird,” Yongsun says, passing Hyejin a water bottle, “are you tired?”

Hyejin doesn’t answer, doesn’t want to say she’s still thinking about their kisses.

It goes quiet, they hear the steps of other trainees walking through the hallway.  Yongsun nudges her to drink. Hyejin opens the bottle slowly, takes a sip.

“It was just a kiss,” Yongsun says, quietly, nervous at the idea of being overheard, “I’m sorry if it was not what you wanted.”

Hyejin shakes her head, hand going to settle on Yongsun’s knee, “You can’t say that,” Hyejin says, looking at the other, “I was the one who asked you.”

Yongsun nods, obviously not sure what else to say or do.

Hyejin leans closer, kisses Yongsun’s cheek, “I just realized how different we are.”

Yongsun smiles at her, surprisingly.

“It’s good that we’re different,” Yongsun reassures her, cheeks blushing faintly, “we can learn a lot from each other.”

Hyejin meets her gaze straight on, smiles right back.

“I’ve already learned a lot from you, unnie.”