Irene stares at the newly engaged couple with something foreign in her chest, like she's watching a car crash— it's a close second to everything she never expected to see, willed that she would never have to see, but somehow, she can’t look away. Through hooded eyes, she continues to observe, not taking part in the festivities like their other friends present in the house, and with a quiet sigh that presumably goes unnoticed, she takes another sip from the glass of red wine in her hand.

From across the room, Irene meets the eyes of an uncharacteristically subdued Wendy, who remains seated in a folding chair that had been set up for the occasion, nursing a glass of her own.

No words are exchanged, just weary smiles, tired from all the facades, all the masks and unspoken questions, all the words that went unsaid. Wendy had been nothing less than her best friend; Irene had known everything all along.

Although, Irene presumes, as Wendy's tired, sad gaze roams over the crowd, settling on the newly engaged couple, perhaps I should consider myself lucky.

“I always wondered how you used to be able to see through all of us,” a voice cuts in through Irene's thoughts, and Irene shrugs as Seulgi takes it upon herself to inhabit the empty space besides Irene, leaning against the wall to her right. “You were always so good at reading our emotions.”

“I basically raised you all,” Irene chuckles, though only the faintest amount of humor can be heard laced through it. “I took care of you all throughout your years in college. It was like learning a bunch of new languages. In particular, I must be fluent in Seulgi-nese by now.”

“I am curious about something though,” Seulgi muses, tilting her head as if in thought, but Irene can tell by the slight waver underlining Seulgi’s tone that the slightly younger woman had been itching to talk to Irene all night.

Irene decides to indulge her.

“And what are you curious about?”

“How is it,” Seulgi says slowly, “that you somehow knew all about Joy, and the way she would look at Wendy when she thought Wendy wasn’t looking, as well as the way Wendy would gaze at her back, and yet you never saw the way I looked at you?”

Irene raises an eyebrow, more surprised at the fact that Seulgi had admitted her previous attraction for the older woman more than the actual confession itself.

“You presume too much,” Irene chuckles, taking another swig of her wine before swirling the remains around in the glass, watching the liquid spin around and around. “I did see, Seulgi.”

“What?” Seulgi’s eyes widen.

She receives a coy smile in response.

“Subtlety, thy name is Seulgi,” Irene says dramatically, straightforward.

“I never tried to be,” Seulgi replies, eyes narrowing as the older woman only continues to sip on her drink. “So, you knew. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was your assistant choir director, Seulgi,” Irene sighs upon seeing the empty wine glass. She sets it down one of the nearby side tables before crossing her arms. “There was never supposed to be an anything.”

“Is that the only reason?” Seulgi demands, taking a step closer, and Irene braces herself against the wall behind her, knowing full well that without the other surface, she would’ve taken a step back. Seulgi’s always been a weakness of hers, she’s long past admitted that to herself.

She’s glad that everyone else in the room is too preoccupied in the celebration to notice their interaction.

“It made every other reason irrelevant,” Irene responds evenly.

“Well regardless, it’s an irrelevant reason now,” Seulgi shoots back, and Irene inhales sharply. “It’s been two years since I’ve graduated, Irene. You… You and I were the closest, don’t even try denying it. Yet after I graduated, we didn’t even keep in contact— not from lack of effort on my part, that was all you, Irene.”

“I—” Irene takes a deep breath, closes her eyes and wills herself to keep her emotions in check. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry, Seulgi.”

They’re quiet, and the low chatter of the surrounding party fills in the cracks and space they’ve left behind.

“I know that too,” Seulgi whispers. “I know that you’d be sorry. I’ve known you for years, Irene, I know you wouldn’t do anything without reason. So why?”

Irene only shakes her head wordlessly, pushes herself off the wall and leaves the living room of the house. She makes her way down the hallway, hearing rapid footsteps behind her. She doesn’t try to stop Seulgi from following, she just needs air, and in that room full of people, Irene doesn’t think she can breathe.

She makes it out to the front porch, pushing her way through the screen door and letting the cool summer night air hit her face. She sits down on the front steps, inhaling and exhaling, trying to gather her thoughts as she hears slow, tentative footsteps gingerly shuffle closer behind her.

The smile she sends Seulgi is small and wry.

“You can join me, you know?” She pats the empty space on the step next to her.

Seulgi nods, taking a seat wordlessly.

Silence permeates around them for the second time that evening, but this time, there’s no party, no friends to come and inhabit the gaps— there’s just the sounds of the night, complete with the crickets and occasional owl, potential car in the distance.

Irene revels in it, breathing it in, letting it consume her, soothe her, as she sorts through the tumulus thoughts swirling through her head.

Finally, it’s Seulgi who speaks up, looking over at Irene with her deep, emotional eyes. It’s said that the eyes are the gates to the soul, and Irene think that can’t be truer as she meets Seulgi’s heavily concerned gaze.

“Are you feeling better now?” Seulgi asks quietly, reaching out to brush her fingertips against Irene’s arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. If Seulgi notices, she doesn’t say anything, and Irene is grateful.

“I am,” Irene says softly. She pauses, studying the way Seulgi shifts in her spot before the older woman smiles to herself. “Say something, Seul.”

“Maybe you should speak first,” Seulgi says, sounding hesitant. Irene already knows that Seulgi doesn’t want a repeat of what had happened inside, wants this to be an actual conversation.

Irene shakes her head.

“My thoughts come easily to me when I get to listen to you,” Irene murmurs. That’s how it’s always been, even back in college when they’d first met. It had been Seulgi who had done most of the talking, Irene finding herself opening up more and more as they’d conversed. “It just… wasn’t the right atmosphere inside to have this kind of talk. I should have realized that before we’d gotten too deep.”

“Okay,” Seulgi says. There’s another moment of silence, but it isn’t long until Seulgi opens again, the words smoothly pouring from her lips, as though she’d been preparing for this for a while now. The thought almost garners a genuine smile from Irene.

“I don’t want you to be my one that got away,” Seulgi says, trying to sound stable even though her voice shakes, and it makes Irene’s heart clench. “And I don’t want to be yours either.”

Irene only laughs softly at that, though the sound feels devoid of humor.

“We were never in a relationship to begin with, but even if we were, you wouldn’t be my one that got away, Seul,” Irene says honestly, despite the hint of bitterness seeping into her tone. And truthfully, it must be the wine doing the talking now, because the Irene from earlier today, the Irene who had walked into Joy’s house with all intentions of celebrating her former student and close friend’s birthday in blissful sobriety, would definitely not have allowed these words to spill from her lips. There’d never been a time when she’d wished for more alcohol than in this moment—

“You’d be the one I never would have been able to keep.”

It’s like the world stops turning.

“What?” Seulgi whispers. “Irene, I— what are you going on about?”

Irene shrugs helplessly, and for the first time, she lets herself look defeated. Yup, the wine’s definitely kicking in. About time too.

“Let’s not even pretend, Seul,” Irene looks down at her hands, thinks about how they look so small. She throws her head back, looks up at the light from the moon, thinks about how big it is, yet how small in the grand scheme of the universe.

She gestures in a big circle, motioning to the party inside.

“Let’s not even try to deny it,” Irene says again. “This entire party is a whole red flag.”

“Irene—”

“Wendy’s so damn heartbroken,” she whispers, and she feels the tears well up in her eyes again. Damn the alcohol. “And I don’t know if we can fix her this time.” Her hands move around again, and she can’t even tell what they’re trying to convey, just that there’s a throbbing in her heart and it’s warning her that something’s coming too close. “Let’s be real— none of us would’ve attended if we could be selfish, knowing that Sungjae was going to propose to Joy, knowing that Joy was going to accept. We just wanted to celebrate Joy’s birthday. And yet we’re still here, because even though we love Wendy too much, we also love Joy too much, and Wendy just loves too much.”

“We saw it happen,” Seulgi whispers, and it’s the closest she’s come to relenting. “We saw Wendy and Joy happen for four years. I just don’t— they just didn’t—”

“Joy didn’t love Wendy enough,” Irene says, not beating around the bush. “Wendy wasn’t good enough for her, and Joy didn’t love her. They never dated, Seulgi.”

“They never tried,” Seulgi argues.

“Joy didn’t love Wendy,” Irene repeats.

“What if I love you?” Seulgi shoots back, and Irene flinches.

Irene wonders if she’ll ever get used to suddenly lapsing into silence like that.

“Don’t say that,” Irene mumbles under her breath. “Don’t say that.”

“And why not?” Seulgi demands, a hard edge to her tone. “You can’t tell me I’m lying, Irene. Not when you haven’t talked to me, let alone seen me for two years. You have no idea what thoughts I’ve been having, no idea what it’s like for you to be in my life one day, and have you shut the door on me the next.”

“I told you,” Irene cries, desperation seeping into her voice as she abruptly stands up, stepping down the stairs and onto the walkway with clenched fists, her nails digging into the palms of her haves, leaving crescent moon imprints as her eyes shut tight and she begs herself not to burst into tears. “I wouldn’t have been able to keep you.”

“You have to tell me what you mean!” She can hear Seulgi stand up as well, quick to follow the older woman, and Irene, despite willing her emotions to stay intact, whirls around at her words, looks at Seulgi and her blurry outline behind wide eyes as tears track down her cheeks.

“I can’t compete with the world, Seulgi!” Irene shouts, and Seulgi freezes. “It— it’s never been about you! You – oh god, Seul – you’re everything.” She doesn’t know how it happens, but the volume of her voice falls down to a mere hush. “You can have everything, Seul. Anything you ever want, that’s how amazing you are. And the world is more than willing to give you it. I can’t compete with that.”

“Well what if I want to give you everything?” Seulgi murmurs, and she steps forward. This time, Irene doesn’t need to brace herself, doesn’t take a step back. “What if I think you deserve everything?”

“I don’t deserve that,” Irene whispers. “You were never the issue, Seul. I don’t deserve you.”

“Why would you ever think that?” Seulgi frowns deeply, saddened by Irene’s words. She takes one of Irene’s hands, tugging her gently back over to the front steps, carefully brings her back to a sitting position.

A shrug rolls off Irene’s shoulders.

“I think I’ve just come to terms with the fact that I’m incapable of being loved.”

“Why would you ever think that?” Seulgi asks immediately, her voice breaking on the last word, and Irene can see the sadness coursing through Seulgi’s very being. The older woman reaches up to smoothen the crease on Seulgi’s forehead.

“Don’t cry,” Irene whispers. “I don’t like it when you cry.”

Seulgi laughs hollowly. “And I don’t like it when you say that you’re unlovable, Irene.”

Irene only shrugs again.

“If Wendy, who has the biggest heart, who loves the most, loves the hardest, can’t get the love of her life to love her back, what chance do I even have?”

“I don’t know who the love of your life is, but I do know that I love you, Irene,” Seulgi says strongly, meaningfully, and she pulls Irene close, rests a hand on her cheek, and presses their foreheads together. “I’ve loved you for a while.”

“You keep saying that,” Irene murmurs, looking anywhere besides Seulgi’s bright, bright eyes. Still, she doesn’t pull away. “You keep saying that because you think I’m the one who got away.”

“No,” Seulgi shakes her head. “No, you were right earlier. You’re not the one who got away, you’re the one I never had. But you’re damn wrong if you think that your own self-deprecation is capable of keeping me from loving you.”

Irene’s gaze snaps to Seulgi’s and this time, it’s Irene who’s left speechless, mouth open and closing, but no sound coming out.

“We are not Joy and Wendy,” Seulgi whispers. “This is not their story, this is ours.” Slowly, she reaches for out, and the older woman breathes in as Seulgi’s larger hand gently encloses around Irene’s smaller one within her own.

“Seulgi…”

“Just give me a chance,” Seulgi begs, and she lets go of Irene’s hand with a squeeze, coming even close to envelop Irene in a loose embrace. “I don’t know if you feel as strongly for me, Irene, and I promise I won’t be hurt if it turns out that you don’t feel as strongly back. Just let me show you that you are loved. Let me prove it to you.”

Irene closes , mulling over Seulgi’s words. She’s glad that they’re outside, that there’s no other loud noises here to interrupt them. She doesn’t know how long she ponders over everything in silence, her forehead still resting against Seulgi’s, but it hits her then, about how safe she feels here, with Seulgi, in Seulgi’s arms.

Then—

“Okay.”

Seulgi’s eyes shoot open from when they’d closed while waiting, and she gapes at a bashful-looking Irene.

“Okay?” Seulgi’s voice sounds about an octave higher than normal, and a wide, wide grin spreads across her face.

Irene laughs softly, the corner of her lips quirking upward in a small smile. She nods.

“Okay.” She throws a wistful look over her shoulder at the party, still in full swing, going on inside. “I… I don’t want to be afraid of my own feelings. I don’t want to end up making a decision I might regret for the rest of my life.”

As if on cue, the two women hear Joy’s loud, boisterous laughter, followed by Sungjae’s deeper laugh, coming from within the house, and they wince.

“Yeah, let’s not do that,” Seulgi says jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

It works though, getting a small giggle out of Irene, some of the humor returning to her eyes.

“Seulgi?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything. And…” Irene looks down, not quite meeting Seulgi’s eyes. “I’m sorry for not keeping in touch.”

“Hey,” Seulgi says softly, tilting Irene’s chin up with a gentle hand. “We’re past that now. I understand why you did that, Irene, even if I don’t agree with it. But I could never hold that against you, especially after tonight.”

“So… what happens now?”

“Well,” Seulgi chuckles. “We could get out of here, go somewhere where we’ll actually have some fun, like that diner we used to frequent after choir rehearsals on Fridays. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I was watching you all night, and you didn’t exactly eat much.”

“You’re not wrong.” Irene smiles. “That sounds like a great idea.” She pauses, brow furrowing in worry. “Wait, what about Wendy? I’d hate to leave her alone here.”

“Don’t worry about her,” Seulgi soothes. “I told Eunji about the whole situation. She and Yeri are planning on leaving in about ten minutes, and they’re taking Wendy with them. Eunji’s thinking about heading back to their apartment and having a Disney movie marathon, while Yeri wants to go bar hopping.” She winks. “I think we both know which one Wendy will choose.”

Irene laughs lightly. “As if Wendy would pass up a chance to belt out to Mulan songs.”

“We can join them after we grab a bite to eat, if you want?” Seulgi offers.

Irene hums.

“Maybe some other time. Can we head back to your place instead?”

Seulgi beams.

“Sounds like a plan.”

End.