gone at last

Yongsun hops off the train and walks down the cobblestone road with a spring in each step while softly humming a melody her mother used to sing her to sleep with. She tries her best not to step on the cracks in the ground, Yongsun holds out her hands to keep her balance as she sways from side to side.

The strong gusts of winds blow through her hair, her jacket, her splayed hands, almost sending her to the ground. She stops, puts her arms down by her side and looks back, seeing the train pulling away from the station. Yongsun turns around and blows the stray strands of hair out of her face.

She continues down the road, soon the cobblestone is replaced by dirt and Yongsun is more cautious as she remembers the newly turned soiled from her childhood and the thunderous sound one misstep could make. Her feet begin to ache so she removes her shoes and decides to walk on the grass beside the dirt road instead.

There is river running in the distance, birds chirping joyously in the woods, Yongsun takes off her coat, lays it on the grass and looks for a book in her bag. For a moment, nothing can touch her, the Theory of Life and its destructive hands are out of reach, helplessly grabbing at air and know this: Yongsun is certainly more than just air, she is a living and breathing being —a human unscathed by steel.

Yongsun hears a car coming closer, a motor disrupting the peace she has found. She lifts her head from the page and looks down the road seeing an old and rusty truck. She watches it pass her, then the car abruptly stops and reverses sharply, the wheels coughing up dirt. Yongsun watches as the driver tries to open the door but it looks like it is jammed. Suddenly she sees Moonbyul poking her head out of the window.

«Yongsun?»

Soon, Moonbyul is hauling herself out the window, falling onto the ground. Yongsun stands up, dropping the book in her hands. Moonbyul runs towards her, brushing off the dirt as she goes, Yongsun’s name spills from , and then they collide in an embrace, Yongsun’s feet lift off the ground as Moonbyul spins her around. Yongsun feels like flying, she spreads her arms like a bird soaring high in the air.

Moonbyul twirls the both of them, Yongsun and herself, around, throws her head back, her hair fluttering wildly, then she carefully sets Yongsun on the ground. Yongsun cups Moonbyul’s cheeks and pulls her closer, giving her a soft peck.

«I missed you so much.» She whispers.

They struggle trying to get into the truck, the doors are still jammed and in the end they crawl through the window. They laugh for a while as they lie uncomfortably sprawled across the driver and the passenger seats, the clutch digging into Yongsun’s lower back and Moonbyul’s legs dangling out of the window.

Their laughter fades, the sound of the motor takes over as Moonbyul drives towards the farm. Yongsun steals glances at Moonbyul and when Moonbyul briefly catches her, Yongsun turns her head to look at the scenery in front of her. A smile spreads on her face, Yongsun can not help the warm feeling that is growing through her body.

«You’re lucky you decided to sit and read in that field, they’re still looking for landmines in the one further down, of course, they’ve put up a sign and everything, but it’s still…» Moonbyul chews on the word a bit until she settles for saying; «dangerous.»

Yongsun nods, unfazed by the fact that she could have been blown up if she had sat in the wrong field, but then it hits her: the image of a child disappearing in a grey cloud of thick smoke. Yongsun shudders, Moonbyul asks if she is cold. Yongsun shakes her head and turns towards Moonbyul watching her drive.

They reach the farm right before sundown, the sky glowing red like the dying embers of a fire, the night creeping up towards the hill, darkness overtaking the sky. The farmhouse is larger than Yongsun had though, at least three floors tall. The white paint is flaking, in some places, there is no white, Yongsun thinks that the wind must have carried the dry paint away.

The car door is still jammed, Moonbyul kicks it open, sending it flying over the ground. She turns to Yongsun, smiling, «I’ll fix it later,» she says and holds out her hand for Yongsun, who crawls over the driver’s seat.

«Welcome home,» says Moonbyul, «come inside, I want you to meet my sisters.»

Yongsun wakes up to darkness, curious, she turns her head seeing a digital clock on the bedside table, displaying 09:06 in bright red. She blinks twice, lifts herself up using her elbows for support and looks around the room which Yongsun thinks looks awfully . There are no paintings or pictures hung on the walls, there is only a solitary dresser in front of the bed and not much else except for the heavy curtains that are keeping out the sunlight.

A faint smell lingers in the air, Yongsun recognises it as Moonbyul’s earthy scent and smiles contentedly. She jumps out of bed, wraps a light blanket around herself, goes over to the dresser, picks out a pair of grey joggers and a shirt (that undoubtedly belongs to Moonbyul). Yongsun shimmies out of her nightdress, pulls on the clothes and fixes her hair.

A noise from the doorway catches her attention, Yongsun quickly turns her head sending her hair flying in front of her face. She uses her hand to brush it away, seeing Moonbyul standing in the entrance with, from the smell of it, a cup of coffee in her hand.

Moonbyul walks over to Yongsun, «I know,» she says, winking when she places the cup on the dresser where it is almost level with Yongsun’s nose. Moonbyul reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind Yongsun’s ear, then leans in to kiss her cheek. Moonbyul goes over to the window and yanks open the curtains, letting in a little bit of sunlight, then she is out of the room leaving Yongsun blushing profusely, her heart pounding and her stomach fluttering.

Yongsun thinks she is falling in love all over again or, perhaps, she is not falling in love again but simply feeling happiness sprouting from her chest, even though, deep down, her theory is telling her that this is nothing but an illusion, well, that may be, but happiness for Yongsun is like a flower blooming in the dark, and from what Yongsun now knows about flowers, she likes to think that the flower blooming in her chest is a Convallaria majalis, a Lily of the Valley (for they bloom in the dark and signify the return of happiness, or so it says in the Flora that Yongsun has read).

Like many times before, Yongsun wants to think it is symbolic.

She can not help but smile at Moonbyul’s perceptiveness, how grateful Yongsun is for how well Moonbyul understands her: Moonbyul knows that she likes the smell of coffee in the morning but can not stand the bitter taste (so Moonbyul has just left it on the dresser), that she enjoys listening to the soft pitter-patter of rain against the window but thoroughly dislikes her clothes getting wet and clinging to her body, that Yongsun likes to be in control (despite having obediently followed every order ever given to her) which is why Moonbyul always asks —she gives Yongsun an option, a choice, and like that Yongsun is in control of herself.

Yongsun slowly settles into this new lifestyle, she gets along with Moonbyul’s younger sisters quite well, but a week later they return to their respective cities leaving her and Moonbyul alone in the farmhouse.

Nowadays, Yongsun sleeps a little bit longer, the sun wakes her up instead of the blaring sound of the digital alarm (however, Moonbyul always turns the alarm off the night before). In the morning, Yongsun wraps her arms around Moonbyul’s waist, asking for just five more minutes, and Moonbyul always complies, cradling Yongsun against her chest and raking her fingers through Yongsun’s silky hair.

This new routine that Yongsun has fallen into puts her at ease, she is calmer, more relaxed, she lets her shoulders down more frequently, takes her time when she does her daily chores. The simplicity of this lifestyle reminds Yongsun of her own simple yet excruciatingly complex theory (do not fret, though, she is not afraid of the theory anymore, it is the war that plagues her).

Put simply, here is Yongsun’s theory (in case one might have forgotten):

the beginning is the end, the end is the beginning,

everything in-between is an illusion, it must be a lie.

Yongsun begins tearing the theory apart by silently apologising to the Swiss doctor; how she had wronged the doctor by not having been able to stand her at first, to then forcing herself to tolerate her. Yongsun feels guilty and ashamed now that she knows the doctor’s fate (but one can not alter the past, so Yongsun moves on).

There is another digression that Yongsun remembers quite clearly. She had been sitting in the infirmary tent, feeling the veins in her body and her heart ripping apart. Yongsun had seen madness unfold in front of her; scorched skin, steel plates, humanity crumbling as insanity was on the rise.

She had felt the theory tearing, slowly —it nearly killed her, but now she realises that it was not the theory that had been killing her. It was the war and how steel effortlessly replaced skin, how humanity began to erase the one thing that made humans human. In that moment the emotions, the digressions and the details from her past came back, not to haunt her but to act as a reminder.

While sitting on the porch sketching the fields, the sky, the sun, Yongsun remembers her parents and her short life before the war, but then she remembers meeting Moonbyul outside the infirmary tent, how the former sergeant had caught her before she fell. It brings a shy smile to Yongsun’s lips and she turns her head to look at the small vegetable garden where Moonbyul is planting some vegetables.

Later that day, Moonbyul comes to sit beside Yongsun, taking off her gloves and placing her red, overworked hand on Yongsun’s pale knee. It sends a shiver down Yongsun’s spine. Moonbyul’s touches are still wanted and yearned for, even now when so much time has passed.

It is ironic, Yongsun thinks, how she had at first been scared of any contact with another human being, even a graze of the hand was too much for her to handle, but now she welcomes every touch Moonbyul has to offer. 

«We should get a dog,» says Moonbyul while staring out at the field, «one or two, possibly even three.»

Yongsun arches an eyebrow, sending Moonbyul a questionable look, but the latter laughs it off, patting Yongsun’s knee.

«Also, Wheein is coming, I invited her, thought the countryside might inspire her.»

«That’s nice,» Yongsun says, leaning her head on Moonbyul’s shoulder.

Their hands intwine, Yongsun squeezes Moonbyul’s hand just to make sure that this moment is real and not a figment of her imagination. She feels Moonbyul squeeze back. Relief spreads through Yongsun’s chest, she turns to place a kiss on Moonbyul’s neck.

A few days later Moonbyul goes to pick Wheein up at the station leaving Yongsun alone in the farmhouse. Yongsun tries making a pie but ends up burning the crust. It does not matter as she will serve it anyway. Through the kitchen window Yongsun sees the old car that Moonbyul keeps insisting on driving coming into view. She watches with fondness as Moonbyul struggles to open the door, Wheein is small enough to just jump out of the window.

Yongsun goes out to meet them, Wheein rushes towards Yongsun and flings her arms around her, chanting over and over how she just knew it. Moonbyul is standing in the background, hands in her pocket, looking sheepish, then she takes Wheein’s bag and walks towards the house.

«Maybe I should get rid of the car,» says Moonbyul sadly when she passes them but then her voice lightens up, «you wanna work on it before we get rid of it?»

Yongsun’s eyes brighten at the suggestion, and she thanks Moonbyul by giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

The next day Wheein sits out in the field, Moonbyul and Yongsun see her through their bedroom window while they are getting dressed. A few days later, Yongsun joins Wheein, but instead of drawing the landscape like Wheein, Yongsun turns her attention to Moonbyul who is working on their small vegetable garden.

While sketching, her mind often wanders to the Theory of Life which is slipping through her hands like running water. Here is something though: Yongsun realises that she has already let go of it a long time ago. Perhaps it was when Wheein showed Yongsun that it was possible to turn violent things, cold things, into something nice.

Perhaps it was when Moonbyul overcame her own fear of not being human enough. The steel on Moonbyul’s back has served as a constant reminder of what happened during the war, but despite her having lost pieces of herself (some stolen as well), she is still completely and utterly human. Yongsun has never met any one who smells as earthy as the former sergeant, no wonder Moonbyul had not wanted to give up the farmhouse, she fits right into this place.

Yongsun holds onto the lessons life has taught her, she learns from the people she has met and keeps a tight hold on the good bits letting go of the theory (but even though she releases it, it does not mean that it will simply drift away and vanish into thin air. Only time can make things disappear).

They get a new car, Wheein leaves a day later, Yongsun thinks about all of the tomorrow’s she will have with Moonbyul (but not too far ahead because the future is relative; it bends, it curves and is unreliable). Today is today, Yongsun tells herself, neither a beginning nor an end, whatever happens now, tomorrow will still come.

They visit the local dog shelter and adopt a dog, a small red and white cattle herding dog. The worker at the dog shelter says the breed is a good farm dog but can also be a good lapdog which is what they both want.

Something stirs within Yongsun when the worker also mentions that the breed is well suited for children. Yongsun busies herself by fumbling with her hands, stealing a glance at Moonbyul to see her reaction but she seems unfazed and continues talking to the worker.

They leave the shelter with two dogs instead of one, both the same breed, and get into their new car, making their way back to the farmhouse. The dogs begin to yap in the backseat, Yongsun coos to them trying to keep the dogs’ excitement to a minimum but she can barely contain her smile.

It is late when they arrive at the farm, the sun is setting, the dogs are exploring the farmhouse, sticking their snouts in every nook and cranny. Moonbyul and Yongsun recline on the couch where they fall asleep a bit after midnight. Yongsun lifts her head from Moonbyul’s chest, thinking it is best if they lie on the bed rather than the couch, but she doubts she will be able to carry Moonbyul up the stairs without waking her so she puts her head back down and shuts her eyes.

Moonbyul sleeps, Yongsun sleeps, they lie together (sometimes on the couch or sometimes in the bed), their breathing steady, chests rising and falling in perfect synch. Yongsun runs in the dark while flashbombs from the war set her dream alight. When she wakes, she sees Moonbyul’s sleeping form beside her. It reassures her, so Yongsun closes her eyes and goes to sleep again.

The dogs run free on the farm while Moonbyul works in the vegetable garden, she scolds the dogs when she finds out that they have dug up some of the potatoes she had planted earlier. 

Sometimes, when Yongsun puts down her sketchbook or when she has finished her other chores around the house, she helps Moonbyul in the garden, either by watering the plants or keeping the dogs at bay.

Sometimes, when Moonbyul decides that the garden does not need anymore tending, she goes to sit beside Yongsun in the field, watching her while she sketches. Yongsun will readjust herself to face Moonbyul and tap the tip of the pencil against , deep in thought.

Yongsun will draw Moonbyul, sketch her rugged yet soft hands and carefully shadow Moonbyul’s imperfectly perfect back. Yongsun will sometimes reach out, place her fingertips under Moonbyul’s chin and angle Moonbyul’s head slightly to get a better view. Moonbyul will always smile and find a way to slip away from Yongsun’s grip to press a kiss against her hand.

They have long chats during the evenings where they spend most of their time on the couch. When they are done reading and crave each other in a more intimate way, they decide to slow dance together, swaying back and forth to the music, Yongsun’s chin on Moonbyul’s shoulder, Moonbyul’s hands on Yongsun’s waist.

In bed, Yongsun drags her hands through Moonbyul’s hair, then she pulls her closer, pressing their lips together. They yield to each other, they share control. Moonbyul slowly takes off her shirt while Yongsun watches her. The lamp above their heads flickers, Yongsun’s eyes shine with want and ache with longing —oh how she has missed this.

A feeling tugs at her chest, she knows this feeling, recognises it by its insistent grip on her heart, yearning to be acknowledged. Yongsun knows this is not the first time it has taken hold of her. She welcomes it by engaging Moonbyul in a deep, passionate kiss. They hold each other when they are both out of breath, panting, staring up at the ceiling.

They begin each day together, laying in bed looking at each other’s faces. Yongsun usually wakes first and gives Moonbyul a soft peck on her forehead, resting her hand on Moonbyul’s hip. The sun slips through the curtains, pricks at their faces, warming their bodies.

Here is something Moonbyul and Yongsun thought would ever happen: Wheein visits them unannounced and with her is the nurse from the war, Hyejin. They stand awkwardly on the front porch, Yongsun’s eyes flicker back and forth between Wheein and Hyejin.

She gives them a kind smile, welcoming them inside. Moonbyul is working in the vegetable garden, the two dogs running between her legs. Yongsun calls for them, saying the have visitors.

They chat and catch-up on the porch, watching the sun setting in the distance. Wheein is starting a new art project, her inspiration being the countryside and the unscathed landscape. Hyejin is here to get away from her past.

Yongsun and Moonbyul do not ask, but when the former soldier and nurse have settled into the guest room and dozed off, they stay up, conversing, wondering how Hyejin ended up as a nurse in the war.

«Do you think she’s from an aristocratic family trying to get away from some sort of… arranged-marriage?» Moonbyul says, staring at the bottom of her empty glass.

Yongsun shrugs, «maybe, I heard that a lot of the nurses were volunteers with no experience, they were just trying to get away from their expected duties.»

Moonbyul stands up from the bench on the porch, taking her and Yongsun’s glasses inside to wash. Yongsun follows her, lingering in the doorway, watching Moonbyul.

«Would you do it?» asks Yongsun, «if your were in dire circumstances and the only choice you had was to run away to the war?»

«Yes,» Moonbyul chuckles, turning to Yongsun while drying the glasses with a cloth, «I kind of did, anyway.»

Yongsun recalls the time Moonbyul had told her: it was in the hospital, a day after she had found Moonbyul with new steel plates covering her back. Moonbyul had volunteered, along with both of her sisters, in hopes of sparing her father from being sent to the frontier to fight. Miraculously, all three of them survived.

Moonbyul opens but then shuts it, the same question lingering on her tongue. She takes one of the clean glasses, fills it to the brim with icy cold water, and downs the contents in one big gulp.

«You saw how they both looked at each other, right?» 

Yongsun nods, smiling, remembering having noticed the way Wheein and Hyejin kept throwing each other affectionate glances, and when Yongsun was leaning over to place a plate on the table, she had seen their intwined hands.

«It’s strange, how things like that happen in such terrible circumstances.»

«You mean love?» Yongsun asks, raising an eyebrow, a playful smile on her lips.

«Yes, Yongsun, love.» Moonbyul says stepping closer, «such a peculiar thing, how it just introduces itself to two unsuspecting strangers. Quite rude, really.»

Yongsun giggles when Moonbyul places her hands on Yongsun’s hips pulling her closer and pressing their lips together. They fall asleep a while later. When Yongsun wakes up, she places a soft kiss on Moonbyul’s cheek, jumps out of bed, wrapping a blanket around her body.

She stops in her tracks, looking through the curtains and out of the window seeing Wheein and Hyejin sitting in the field. Drawing, most likely. Yongsun smiles to herself, to them, and walks out of the bedroom to take a shower.

Wheein and Hyejin stay for a week. The four of them get along quite well, chatting and laughing long into the night. They forget about their pasts for a moment, the future seeming so distant and unclear, so they decide to live in the now, the present, where they believe it is safest for them, seeing as life has not treated them well most of their lives.

When they bid farewell Wheein and Hyejin promise to visit them soon, Moonbyul and Yongsun tell them that they are always welcome at the farm. Moonbyul drives them to the station, Yongsun stays at home with the dogs.

It is now Wednesday. It is raining.

Yongsun is lying on the couch reading a book, but she can not focus on the words, the pitter-patter of the rain is distracting her. She closes the book, sits up and pulls her legs to her chest. Her hair falls over her shoulder as she rests her head on her knees.

Moonbyul enters the living room, her hair wet and clinging to her forehead. Her clothes are drenched, she smells of wet dog. Yongsun scrunches her nose, telling Moonbyul to keep away from her when the former sergeant steps closer, almost close enough to embrace Yongsun. Moonbyul hesitates before leaping at Yongsun, hugging her, holding her close to her chest.

Yongsun feels the vibrations from Moonbyul’s laugh against her body, she also feels the wetness of Moonbyul’s clothes seeping through to her’s. Yongsun shrugs out of the hold, sticking out her tongue, showing her distaste for the smell and her clothes now being wet.

«You’ll be alright?» Moonbyul asks, settling beside Yongsun on the couch.

«Of course, I might not like it, but a little water won’t kill me.»

«I wasn’t talking about the hug or your clothes sticking to your body,» says Moonbyul, shaking her head, «there’s a storm brewing, there’ll be thunder and lightning later. I’m just wondering if you’ll be okay. I’ve got to go into town for an hour or two.»

Moonbyul places a hand on top of Yongsun’s knee, a caring gesture. Yongsun’s heart skips a beat.

«I don’t want to leave you on your own if that’s something you don’t want.»

«I’ll be fine.» Yongsun whispers, her voice nearly breaking.

Moonbyul looks at Yongsun for a second. She does not open but the question lingers in her eyes, will Yongsun be alright?

Fifteen minutes later, Moonbyul has changed into dry clothes and is putting on a raincoat and grabbing the car keys from the chest of drawers in the hallway. The two small dogs are sitting obediently in front of her, hoping for a walk. 

Moonbyul pats them both, then sticks her head around the doorway to the living room where Yongsun is reclined on the couch. She wants to make sure one more time that Yongsun will be fine without her. Yongsun reassures her that she will manage. After all, time has passed, and only time can make things disappear once and for all.

Yongsun nods her head, a silent answer for a quiet question. Moonbyul gives her a small smile before she walks out the door. Yongsun hears the engine starting, the wheels spinning in the dirt, and the car finally pulling away from the farmhouse.

She sets her book down on the wooden coffee table, stretches her arms high above her head and yawns. Yongsun hurries up the staircase and heads towards the bathroom where she draws herself a bath. She takes off her clothes, folding them and laying them on the counter.

Slowly, after the bath is filled with warm water, Yongsun sinks down, the waterline right underneath her chin. She looks up at the ceiling, then closes her eyes. For the better part of her life, Yongsun can not remember being this relaxed for such a long period of time — almost a year.

After seeking help, Yongsun feels as if her life has expanded, that she has escaped the restraints that the Theory of Life had put on her. She has stretched out her future, pulled it out further, and she realises that it had been her own decision to do it. Yongsun ultimately feels freer, as if what she does today will have little to no effect on what form tomorrow might take.

Yongsun has been slowly putting herself back together and, ironically, the theory that once had threatened to tear her apart has helped her because the emotions, the digressions and the details that she tried so hard to ignore were there to remind her how it is to live, to feel.

She leans her head back, the water seeping into her hair, which becomes heavier, almost pulling her downwards towards the bottom of the bathtub, the same way that the Theory of Life is still on her mind, still there, lingering, lying in wait, and pulling at her arms and legs, wanting her to fall, to slip and come running back to the theory which will welcome her with open arms.

That will never happen.

Not now, not when Yongsun has decided that she will never come running to anyone unless it is to Moonbyul and her warm embrace. Yongsun’s decision has been set in stone, even if her life is far from over and the future still uncertain, but some things one just knows, and Yongsun knows a lot of things.

Yongsun gets out of the bath before her skin becomes wrinkly. She wraps a towel around her, grabs her discarded clothes and heads towards the bedroom where she dries off. She tosses the towel on the end of the bed and slips into her nightgown.

She grabs her sketchbook and settles on the bed with her legs crossed. It has not rained in a while, so Yongsun has not sketched in a while. She feels rusty, what she sees in her mind is difficult to put onto the paper. Yongsun tries, the lines she draws are scrawny and wavy, the human back that stares at her is almost daunting.

Sometime later, when she finally stands up, her legs a bit stiff, she opens the curtains, seeing the raindrops running down the bedroom window. Yongsun pulls back the curtain, grabs her hologram-pad from her dresser, and settles back on the bed, scanning the flickering screen to see if Moonbyul has left her a message.

Yongsun ponders for a while when she sees nothing from Moonbyul. It makes her worry, she chews on her bottom lip, then bites her fingernails. She furrows her brow, in deep concentration, while she tries to remember if Moonbyul said anything about when she would return.

As if on cue, a message pops up on the flicking screen, Moonbyul says she will be home later than expected, that some of the roads are flooded. Lighting strikes behind the bedroom curtains. Yongsun flinches and asks Moonbyul to hurry home.

When she goes to bed she grabs two pillows from Moonbyul’s side and places one between her legs, the other she holds tightly against her chest. She inhales the familiar, comforting scent, clenches her legs tightly and shivers as thunder rolls outside.

She dives into her dream that is filled with nothing but light, she plummets into her mind, she falls with nothing to brace herself, but she knows it is just a dream — an illusion. It is not real. Just fictitious. Made from past horrors, manufactured to scare her till she goes mad from immorality of the war. 

Yongsun does not become insane, she holds the pillow against her chest tighter than before, but the darkness in her dream does not arrive, it does not come to save her. Instead, the light simply fades, and what is left is a lonely torn-down home with broken windows and a porch covered with debris. The roof is filled with holes, the front yard is covered in ash and dust. Flashbombs have been dropped.

Then light flashes again, nearly blinding Yongsun. When she closes her eyes she sees the home, seemingly untouched by the flashbombs that had dropped only minutes earlier. There are no holes in the roof, the porch has been swept, the front yard shines an emerald sheen. When she opens her eyes again, the home is fixed, but the remnants of the flashbombs (of the war) remain, hiding underneath the ground, in the patches on the roof and in the front yard that used to be covered by grass which is now dirt.

Time, Yongsun realises, this is simply time in one of its many forms.

Yongsun wakes up when she feels soft lips pressing against her forehead. She opens her eyes, seeing Moonbyul leaning over her. Moonbyul pulls away, not startled but worried. She cups Yongsun’s cheeks and gazes into her eyes, apologising for waking her up.

A tear falls from the corner of Yongsun’s eye. She places her thumb on Moonbyul’s bottom lip, pressing slightly, making Moonbyul part her lips. Yongsun leans in for an open-mouthed kiss. They move together, almost in sync, almost perfectly, as if they know each other as if they were each other, as if they have lived each other’s life.

Moonbyul pulls away for air, gasping. Yongsun places two digits against Moonbyul’s lips, feeling how plump and swollen Moonbyul’s mouth is beneath her fingertips.

«Thunderstorm?» Moonbyul asks breathlessly.

Yongsun shakes her head, more tears falling from her eyes.

«Flashbombs?»

Yongsun nods slowly.

«The war.» Moonbyul says firmly and places a hand on Yongsun’s waist, pulling her slightly closer.

Yongsun nods once.

They lie down, exhausted from one single kiss. Yongsun wraps her arms around Moonbyul, feeling the cold steel on her back. She slides her hands up and down Moonbyul’s back and welcomes Moonbyul’s weight as Moonbyul leans down and presses a painstakingly fragile kiss onto Yongsun’s chest.

«I love you,» one of them whispers carefully as if the words might break.

Moonbyul turns over, her back hitting the the mattress, Yongsun scoots closer resting her head on Moonbyul’s bare chest. Without quite knowing how, or when, or from where, they are both in love. Not madly, but deeply. So intimate that when Yongsun places her hand upon Moonbyul’s chest, she does not know if it is Moonbyul’s heartbeat she feels or her own, or if it is her eyes that close or if it is Moonbyul’s.

The next night, when Yongsun falls asleep, she does so with a smile gracing her lips. She continues to fall asleep with a smile on her lips for many more nights. Time has eradicated her troubles, she has finally found some peace and quiet in a mad, mad world.

And this is how a civil engineer with a daunting past and a former sergeant with steel plates on her back cope after having experienced an inhumane and immoral war:

They love each other with all that they have left.

And a little more.

Yongsun loves Moonbyul and their dogs. Moonbyul loves Yongsun and their dogs. Wheein and Hyejin visit them from time to time. The war does not bother them any more.