Seungwan ends up skipping her etiquette class after all. It’s a long, arduous two hours of some old man droning on and on about manners and how one should cross their legs, and Seungwan doesn’t want to listen to him today. 

After school, just as lunch is being cleared, she takes a cautious peek into her mother’s study. Good, she’s not there. A quick check with the butler also confirms - her mother has a meeting today. And that means no Lady of the house rustling her into etiquette classes. 

And so, Seungwan takes off running, her sneakers kicking up dirt as she weaves her way back to the travelling library. 

The sun shines brightly once more, and she sits, awaiting her new friend’s arrival.

Some time passes by, and Seungwan realised that they’ve never really confirmed a time. But even if she’s barely met Seulgi, somehow, she knows that Seulgi will be there. 

She settles into the armchair, and buried herself in the book she found. 

The girl who could fly.

Huh. Sometimes she wishes she could fly too - when the clouds are stormy and the halls are grey. When she gets the chance to lie on the ground and stare up at the shadows across the tall ceiling. What would it be like, to not fear falling? 

“Seungwan!” A voice breaks her out of her concentration. She looks up. Seulgi. She’s wearing a tracksuit today, hair up in a bun. “You came!” And somehow she sounds in disbelief. 

“Why wouldn’t I come?” She asks. You’d be here, she thinks. 

Seulgi shrugs, holding her hand out. And it feels so familiar, so comfortable, to just reach out and grab it. 

Holding Seulgi’s hand feels natural, as if she’s been doing it for years. Seulgi’s palm is slightly clammy, but so is hers. Delicate and warm and she squeezes every so often to check if Seungwan is okay. 

“To teach you about art,” Seulgi says, words wise but her expression is comical. “We must first experience art.” 

She snorts at Seulgi, who shoves her, and it turns into a mini jostling contest. But it ends up with the both of them in the middle of the park, out of breath and filled with laughter. 

Seulgi somehow manages to pull out a full sketchbook and a bunch of pencils from the pockets of her tracksuit, and settles onto the grass. She sits, leaning gently against a tree, and pats the ground next to her - a gesture for Seungwan to sit as well. 

And when they’re both comfortable against the tree, shoulders brushing, Seulgi breathes, deep and slow. Her fingers are calculated, careful but assured. The pencil glides across the paper, and bit by bit Seungwan sees the park she’s grown up with on paper.

She’s enamoured. By the art; the way it forms and grows. By Seulgi, and the way she squints, or the way she turns every so often to smile so gently at Seungwan. 

“Do you know why I like drawing?” Seulgi asks. Her voice is soft, easing in with the birds in the background. 

“Why?”

“A machine can only try to recreate life,” she says. She takes the camera hanging around her neck, and snaps a photo. The light of the flash blinds Seungwan momentarily, but after blinking a few times, she sees a polaroid of the park in her hands. The picture fades in slowly, still and coloured. “But humans create life.”

Seulgi turns, tearing out the page she’s been working on, and passing it to Seungwan. “I love art, because it gives me a glimpse of how it was - the life there - from the way the artist places it on the canvas.” 

She holds them both, side by side. There is a difference, after all. Seulgi’s sketch, a little messy and hastily done, is still so full of life and care. The greys of the charcoal spreads across paper, and if she squints hard enough, the trees sway in the wind. 

Seungwan keeps both the polaroid and the sketch that Seulgi does that day. And the words Seulgi said swirling around her in bed. 

She wonders if a painting will be able to capture the strange feeling that grows in her chest when she’s with Seulgi. 

//

“Wendy.”

“Father.”

They stare at the other, across the large desk, not willing to back down. 

Until her father’s right eye twitches, and they burst into laughter. “Alright alright, princess. Enough fooling around. We’re here today because your mother is concerned. I heard you made a new friend?” 

He winks at her, and she bristles. Something jostles within her. It’s shocking, really. She’s never felt irritation towards her parents, ever. 

“I have,” she replies, tensed, defensive.

“I’m not going to stop you from making friends,” he says. The corners of his mouth jerks up, just minutely, before they slide back down into a passive expression once more. “I just wanna know who’s causing my diamond to skip classes. Even music classes! You love those!”

He is dramatic in ways she’s still trying to keep up with, large expressions and flailing arms unbecoming of a gentleman. But he makes her laugh, careless and loose and fun. Her father sighs, and suddenly, with his back against the window, she realises that he is getting older - the grey spreading. 

“Papa, she’s not making me skip classes. In fact she’s been teaching me a lot the past weeks!”

“Oh good heavens, my princess is calling me papa again, this is a miracle!” He grabs at his chest, teasing and light, but quietens immediately when his daughter glares at him - she grows more striking similar to his wife every day. He misses the time when she was a sproutling, stumbling to walk and letting her papa carry her everywhere. Now she sits with her knees together at the table, chews delicately, and smiles like she’s keeping a secret. 

He clears his throat. “What has she been teaching you, then? What even is her name?” 

“Oh, papa.” Seungwan is excited. “Her name is Seulgi, and she’s simply the most brilliant of artists...”

Seungwan goes on and on, painting stories and telling her father all about the clumsy artist she met at the farmer’s market, and how she skips a few classes to meet her because, somehow, she hasn’t gotten the courage to get her number. 

She doesn’t notice the glint in her father’s eyes. 

//

“Bear!” 

Seungwan s a carefully folded origami bear into Seulgi’s hands. She has a mountain of them, in fact. 

They’ve come to realise that no matter how talented or patient Seulgi is, Seungwan is utterly hopeless at painting. Or drawing, for that matter. 

But, Seungwan is determined. 

“Are you calling me, or are you telling me this blob of paper is a bear?” Seulgi jokes, and she gets pushed off her place on the slide. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” 

She crouches in front of Seungwan, expectant. The bear sits, finite and somehow as pretty as it’s owner, perched on Seulgi’s hand.

“People fold swans, for their elegance,” and love, she adds, in her mind. “But you’re a clumsy-. So...“ she trails off, cheeks flaming, and looks away, shy. 

“Aww Wannie.” Seulgi squeezes her way back into the slide. She slides in next to Seungwan, warm skin pressed against hers. “Thank you, I love it.” 

She holds the origami bear in her palm, careful and reverent, inspecting it with adoration coating her face. Seungwan’s heart pounds as she watches Seulgi cradle the folded paper as though it is the answer to life. She hesitates to pull out the bag of mini bears she has also folded, too enraptured by the art in how light bounces off the angles of Seulgi’s face. 

//

Seulgi fits the outdoors well. She teaches Seungwan which flowers to pick, for a few drops of sweet nectar. And she knows when to hold her hand when they walk along fallen leaves. 

She smiles like the autumn sun and carries with her the scent of the tropics. 

Seulgi’s soft. She doesn’t push when Seungwan doesn’t appear for days. Doesn’t get annoyed when Seungwan asks too many questions. 

Seulgi’s bright. She gives away pieces of her heart like it’s nothing, loving and teary at little kittens on the streets. 

“Wannie, like my own personal Winnie the Pooh!” Seulgi says, one day, huddled under an umbrella. It’s a nickname, young and wild and the first nickname a friend has given her. Not even Sooyoung, at school, who simply calls her “unnie”. 

Seungwan doesn’t tell her that Seulgi is beginning to be her everything. 

And somehow, Seungwan forgets she’s been promised to another when she’s with Seulgi. 

Day by day the time goes by. Her birthday is coming. Seulgi’s birthday too. It’s less than a week away, and Wendy doesn’t think of a shapeless grey figure when her future gets brought up. Not anymore. 

//

She invites Seulgi to her house, two days before her birthday. They’re at the stream - a freshwater stream with baby fishes and the scent of fresh rain. 

“Before the party,” she says. Hopeful, and her fingers tug at her sleeves. “I would love for you to celebrate it with me.” You first, before anyone else. 

And Seulgi looks so happy, elated even, to be invited. She grins, cuddly and bearlike, and her hair messy as always. Seungwan doesn’t know how Seulgi can look so effortlessly beautiful at any given moment. 

Her skin feels itchy, her heart singing. She pushes away frizzy hair, fingers brushing along flushed skin. She tucks the untamed locks of Seulgi’s behind her ear. And Seulgi nods - “Sure, I wanna celebrate your birthday with you.” Before anyone else. 

Seungwan looks at Seulgi, and maybe, just maybe, she isn’t too afraid of falling anymore. 

The stream rushes on by, bubbling and bubbling and her chest feels bubbly too. Her fingers clings on to the wisps of Seulgi’s shirt, eyes tracing the rosy tint to her cheeks, the brilliant smile fixed on her face, the way her eyes shine in the fading sunlight.

She blinks. Once. Twice. And throws all caution away. 

When she kisses Seulgi, she feels as though she is flying. Nothing else matters except the astounding softness of Seulgi’s body against her own. Somehow, she’s gotten her hands tangled in Seulgi’s hair and pulling her in. And Seulgi, Seulgi is kissing her back? Gentle and careful, quiet as she shifts slightly, barely touching. Her lips are soft against her own, and the back of Seungwan’s neck is craning slightly to accommodate for their height difference. 

This will be her first kiss and she’s happy that it’s Seulgi’s to keep. 

There’s fireworks in her belly. But most of all there’s a peace that creeps under her skin. 

When they pull away, Seungwan’s heart is beating erratically. It’s beating, stumbling out between her ribs and worming its way into the palm of Seulgi’s hand. She wonders if Seulgi can feel it, how she holds her entire being under her fingertips. 

But Seulgi looks, sad? 

Her eyes are glistening, her lips parted, breathless. An angel, fallen. She looks overwhelmingly devastated. 

“We can’t, Wannie.” She pulls away fully, and Seungwan’s heart clings on. It falls in the space between them, and shatters. “I’m promised to another.” 

But Seungwan is stubborn, like her father. “I am too, but we can change it.” Her voice is brittle, shards of glass as she tries to convince Seulgi. 

Seulgi shakes her head, eyes shiny. She’s gentle, adoring and patient - it reminds her of better days, when Seulgi’s holding her hand over a sketchbook. (Or when she doesn’t have to give away her bleeding heart.) “You shouldn’t fight your parents. We shouldn’t.” 

Seungwan wants to fight. There’s a lump in , chest gaping. She wants to tell Seulgi that they’ll listen. But all she gets, is choked up. Her bottom lip trembles, and she bites it in an attempt to compose herself.

“Seungwan-ah...” Seulgi closes back in, cupping her cheek with a hand and returning her heart with the other. Her thumb eases Seungwan’s bottom lip from between her teeth, grazing by gently. “Don’t be sad. You’re the brightest work of art I’ve been blessed with.” 

She smiles, once more, painful but vivid nonetheless, and turns away. 

When Seulgi walks away, all Seungwan can focus on is her retreating figure. Seulgi’s hands repeatedly swiping away at her face. Seulgi’s footsteps heavy and far. Her back is hunched, as though she is cracking at the seams and the only way out is to keep herself together. 

Perhaps the sting in Seungwan’s chest will make do as the last piece of art Seulgi will gift her - a kaleidoscope of broken glass in place of her heart. 

//

“I don’t want to be betrothed anymore.” Her words ring out. Final. Her mother gasps, scandalised. “I love another.” 

Her mother looks ready to shout, the vein by her temple throbbing. “You’re fifteen.” 

“Fourteen, still.” Her father attempts to soothe, covering her mother’s hand with his. 

And Wendy stares them down. 

Her mother will not be calm. She rises from the dining table, and stalks over. The house attendants around them scuttle away. It’s the first time Seungwan has seen her this angered. 

“Fourteen, and you talk as if you know the ways of the world,” she seethes. “Do you have any idea how much we’ve worked for you, for this?” 

She stops at Wendy’s seat, looking down at her. Seungwan stares back, defiant. Even if her eyes are shining with unshed tears and her hands are trembly. 

Her mother sighs. She deflates visibly, kneeling by Seungwan’s feet. 

She takes the clenched fists in Wendy’s lap, and gently uncurls her fingers. Her mother’s hands are dry, but soft as she remembers. “It’s because of that new friend you met, isn’t it?”

And the sight of her mother, crouched by her side, the light pressure against her knuckles where her mother’s thumb soothes - the tears she’s been holding falls, suddenly and all at once. 

“Baby,” her mother croons, “darling. Please don’t cry. Look at me.” 

Wendy shakes her head, eyes closed as more tears fall. She’s disappointed her parents, Seulgi’s promised to another. How did everything turn out this way? 

“I’m sorry,” she hiccups. 

“It’s not your fault, Seungwan.” Her father’s deep baritone calms her. He situated himself by her other side, warm hand on her shoulder. He gulps down a breath. 

“Maybe I should tell you guys something.” Her father has a sheepish smile on his face. “I may or may not have hidden some key information.”

Her mother brushes away the tears still flowing down Seungwan’s face. Tear tracks stain her cheeks, raw and shiny, and she tries to take in her young daughter - one day she won’t be there and she won’t be able to piece her daughter back. Her husband is immature, planning and having fun; sometimes without thinking about consequences. She sighs, dreading what he has to say. 

She gently pulls Wendy onto her feet and ushers her to an attendant nearby; but not before a brief hug and quick peck on her forehead. 

When she turns around, her husband has to stifle the urge to run. 

“Love, if what you’re about to tell us has anything to do with making Wendy cry,” she grounds out, a sharp smile on her lips. “You’re going to have to sleep out in the halls for the next twenty years.” 

“Alright, sheesh. Alright.” He holds his arms out - a surrender. “Let us meet in the library in twenty minutes. I believe some introductions are in order.” 

———

WELL I told you it’s pretty far fetched shfklg wtv wtv idk how the story even became like this I SWEAR IT WAS MEANT TO GO SOMEWHERE ELSE but somehow they brought me here instead.

so many AUS but nobody to write them for me sjsjsjsj I just want someone to write for me I don’t want my bad writing hehehe