Someday, you thought, I’ll let her know.

You didn’t.

*

Your tomorrows became todays. Your todays became yesterdays. Your someday became a dateless myth—time rolled by and you stood still, in the same place, with barely a thing changed; not even your heart.

You hid your feelings under loud bravado and mean remarks, pretending you didn’t break when she looked at you and you pushed her away with your words.

“We must be soulmates,” Yuri mused, “perhaps we were even a couple, in one of our past lives.”

“Why was it you?” you said lightly and stop your heart screamed, stop talking don’t continue it but habit was thicker than logic and you found yourself murmuring next, “What did I do wrong in my past life?”

The others chuckled at that, half freely and the other half awkwardly, uneasy glances exchanged as a naïve part of you—that wished for you to treat Yuri right, dammit—beat yourself up over your words. Yuri smiled at you, and you pretended to not notice the strain on her lips, pretended that her shove wasn’t hard, pretended to not realize that she was trying to tell you just how much your words hurt.

“Ignore her, Yuri,” Hitomi said, always the one to easily side with her, even amidst their constant bickering and catfights. A pair of eyes found yours, firm and disappointed, “Yena-unnie is smelly anyway, I doubt she’s washed her hair today.”

Yuri feigned a gasp, covering her nose, and you faked outrage at the accusation as everyone else broke into laughter, completely genuine this time around.

You pretended to not notice Yuri’s widening smile as she leaned against Hitomi, pretended to not hear a voice inside your head saying I used to be the one able to make her smile like that, pretended it didn’t hurt to see the two of them laughing and feeding each other as if it wasn’t a special right that was strictly yours once upon a time—

You hid your feelings under loud bravado and mean remarks and Chaewon shot you a look but you didn’t want to be judged by someone months younger than you, thank you very much, so you slipped away to seek for Sakura, hoping to challenge her into another game—whatever it was—and hide from,

from.

Everything.

Hiding from everything sounded nice.

*

Love is easy, Sungmin told you once, wide palm ruffling your hair annoyingly as you walked next to him. You just have to let it fill your lungs and guide you home. Give it a shot when your heart flutters and the air smells sweeter, give it a shot and if it’s the right one for you, they will stay.

And that was a lie.

Sungmin was single, anyway, painfully so, what did he know about love?

Nothing.

So that was a lie.

It had to be.

*

You're less mean when you were tired.

Yuri told you that, herself, opening her door for you in the middle of the night, letting you in.

“Have you washed up?” she suspiciously asked, faintly sniffing at you as she followed you to her bunk. You tried to formulate a mean reply, or a snarky one at least, and failing, because you were tired and Yuri smelled good and you had been having trouble sleeping in your own bunk, without her warmth, without her soft hum lulling you to sleep.

It was embarrassing and so you never admitted it. Never told her the reasons behind your visits, never confessed your heart and instead telling her I heard from a birdie that you missed me, as though you were doing her a favour, as though she was the one losing comfortable sleeps without you, as though she needed you more than you needed her—

“Yeah,” you rasped, grimacing at the scratchy tone you heard from yourself.

Yuri clicked her tongue, hanging back as you climbed into her bed. She sighed and said, “I’ll get you some water,” already taking a step away.

“No,” you said, sounding pathetically petulant, because if you were a fish, then—having Yuri close was the definition of being in the water, but you couldn’t say that (what’s bravery, your mind sang, not me).

Yuri stopped in her tracks, glancing back at you and smiling warmly, warmer than three layers of blanket, warmer than a freshly fried fishcake.

“I won’t be long.”

She disappeared from your sight with that promise hanging in the air and you thought of how someday, one day, it wouldn’t be a simple trip to get a glass of water, someday Yuri would say it won’t be long only to never return, someday you would wake up and find no one to direct your mean remarks to because there was always an exception to everything, even to something as simple as ‘I won’t be long’s.

You let these words fill your lungs, let them grip you so hard air started to feel scarce, every inhale suffocating and heavy, the ceiling above blurring along with your sight.

Give it a shot, Sungmin said, followed with a horrible lie about staying or whatever.

What a crazy notion.

You’d be better off trying to get used to never having her in the first place.

*

I love her, Chaewon once said, soft and smiling and with her mind already made up.

You didn’t want to be the one to bring up inevitable separations, but she seemed to know that you were thinking about it, seemed to see it in your face. Because, I know you’re older than me, she then said, not at all unkind and you hated the flicker of pity in her eyes, you’re halfway into the future already—

Brat, you scowled, but she only allowed herself a twitch of her lips, a bit back smile before she continued as though you had never interrupted her,

So why’s it that you are more scared than me?

You wanted to ask her if she had ever lost someone. If she had known of the way separation would create a gaping hole no new things would ever hope to fill. How separation would never leave you whole, and how you knew that Yuri had already filled a space too big in your life and you're scared she’d yank your whole heart out of your chest when she left, bringing your everything with her, leaving you a mere shell of what you used to be (if she hadn’t already, because what were you anymore? What were you anymore after the darned message in your fortune cookie and the realization in your heart?)

You wondered how was it that the happy-go-lucky Yena always stewed in thoughts so dark, how was it that your laughter left you alone when you needed it to hide yourself behind the most.

A palm touched your arm. You had almost forgotten that Chaewon was there. You looked at her, and you envied it, envied the way she curled her hands around what she felt, what she wanted, envied the way she didn’t push Hitomi away, instead pulling the younger in and never letting go.

We don’t have time, you finally said, watched as a glint of pain flickered in her eyes, hated the way your words hurt her. Why couldn’t you stop hurting people with your words? You were the older one between the both of you, you were the one supposed to protect her from pain, and yet.

You know, unnie, she said, and there was a start of a smile, as though she had just thought of something—someone— and the mere act of it was already healing the wound your words had so carelessly inflicted,

what do we have, really, if not the present?

You took the words in, let it replay endlessly inside your head, and you didn’t budge when Chaewon excused herself from your side.

What do we have, really, if not the present?

*

You hated facing deep feelings.

And if there was one thing you hated more, watching Yuri being anything but healthy would be it.

“We're back!” you announced, with a cheery tone that sounded false to your ears. Next to you, Hyewon grimaced, but she didn’t point it out and you silently promised yourself to let her grill your arse in Mario Kart later as a sign of gratitude.

Nako blinked at you both. “You’ve come to the wrong dorm,” she informed you.

“Nope,” you hummed, pushing forward and entering the dorm that was very much not yours nor Hyewon’s. “Where should I put this?” you asked, glancing back at Nako who locked the door with an exasperated roll of her eyes. She turned around and her eyes bulged at the two plastic bags you lifted,

“Did you just rob a nearby market, unnie?”

“Wha—I paid for everything, okay!”

She looked at Hyewon, not believing your words. Outrageous.

“Everything is acquired within legal means,” the taller girl confirmed, gaze flicking towards you without as much as a change in her expression, “she’s now broke.”

Whatever, Hyewon had just officially lost her free Mario Kart win.

“What the Hell, this is all Yuri’s favourite,” Nako said, peeking into one of the bags in your hold.

“Yeah, well!” you said, your tone too high for your liking, “It was just a coinci—” Hyewon lightly stepped onto your left foot and you yelped, shoving the two bags onto Nako so that you could cradle your injured foot and bemoan the way God punished you for your choice of friends.

“What is so hard about admitting your favouritism, unnie,” Nako said, shaking her head. You regretted ever teaching her the word favouritism yourself. The dwarf began to walk away, to the direction of the kitchen, “Hyewon-unnie, help me store these?”

“Sure,” Hyewon called after her.

“Please unwrap the abalone porridge and heat a bowl up,” you said, loud enough to reach Nako’s disappearing back.

“There’s abalone porridge?!”

Hyewon gestured at the shrill, as if to say see, Nako thinks that that’s overboard, too, but you shrugged and waved to shoo her away, your legs bringing you towards the direction of Yuri’s bedroom—which had been switched to the two-people room, for the time being, to prevent the others from catching her sickness, Chaeyeon had explained.

This was your second time standing before the closed door.

The first time around was this morning, and she was fast asleep, forehead burning and eyes shifting restlessly under closed eyelids as though a nightmare was robbing her of a peaceful sleep. You thought about the person who played with you on the slides and swings, giggling and chuckling, and you hated how life dared to drag your sunshine down, chaining her to the ground and drowning her in cold.

(You shot down the small voice in your head that wanted to point out how you just called her your sunshine. You didn’t say that, didn’t think that, shut up—)

The door clicked open, and Hitomi emerged from the room. You took a step back to avoid collision, and she noticed you within seconds, closing the door behind her without as much as a noise.

“Yena-unnie,” she said by way of greeting. She looked tired, but there was a smile, as though your presence was a relief. “Here to check on Yuri?”

You wanted to tell her to stop smiling, wanted to tell her that your presence wouldn’t change anything. Yuri would still be sick and you would still be a miserable sod trying to smile without feeling it, but Hitomi reached out to touch your arm, a gesture very Chaewon-like, and you shoved those words down back to where it came from.

“She’s awake,” Hitomi said, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Okay,” you said, and repeated, “okay. Can you—can you please tell Hyewon to bring the porridge here when they’re done heating it up?”

“Oh, you bought porridge?” Hitomi’s expression softened, and you felt oddly like you had achieved something. You had seen disappointment crossing her face far too often pertaining yourself and Yuri, and for once—for once you wanted to do this right, this feelings thing, if only so you could tell Yuri to only look for a boyfriend who’d do the same thing for her.

“Yena-unnie?” Hitomi questioned, and you started, crawling your way out from the squeeze in your chest and blinking at her.

“Yeah?” you said, because if Hitomi had said anything you didn’t catch it. But she only shook her head, and her hold on you fell away as she stepped aside.

“I’ll leave her to you,” she softly said, and you took a deep breath, nodding imperceptibly and you didn’t know if you were doing it for her sake or yours. Perhaps more of the latter.

You wordlessly opened the door, peeking in to find Yuri staring at the ceiling from where she was lying in Chaeyeon’s bunk, and when you stepped in, closing the door behind you, she shifted to look at the rustles you caused, eyes widening slightly in recognition.

A smile tearing weakly across her lips.

(You didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve a smile as though your arrival was anything delightful, didn’t deserve the way her eyes lit up as though you had only ever given her happiness. You didn’t deserve her, not after the times your words had made her smile falter, her laughter dimmer.)

She watched you as you made your way to her. Tried, to move, to sit, but you shook your head firmly and went to her side. You let your fingers to seek for hers, refused to listen to the prideful and cowardly part of you that sneered at your entwined hands, what are you doing, that’s too domestic, you squeezed her hand and willed that voice to fade.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, and Yuri hummed.

“Like I’m about to die.”

And it was a joke. It was a joke because the next second she was chuckling, it was a joke because if she were really about to die then Chaeyeon would have been here bawling her eyes out and Eunbi would drag the best doctor in the world into the dorm, forcefully if she had to, demanding for them to cure Yuri this instant.

But still, your voice trembled as you mumbled, “Don’t say that.”

She dramatically sighed. “Right, I still need to be there for our next comeback.”

You need to be there forever, you wanted to say, the only thing holding those words back from jumping out of your throat being your own bitter quote, we don’t have time.

As though summoned, a mini-Chaewon invaded your brain, banging pots and pans noisily inside your mind, repeating to you like a demonic chant,

What do we have, really, if not the present?

What do we have, really, if not the present?

What do we have, really, if—

“Porridge is ready!” Hyewon announced, kicking the door open.

Yuri made a disapproving noise from the back of , “I don’t like porridge.”

“It’s abalone porridge,” Nako quipped somewhere behind Hyewon, and Yuri perked up. “Yena-unnie bought it for you.” You felt like digging a hole and burying yourself forever, but Yuri looked over, staring at you. There was a lift of her eyebrows, eyes shining and a smile so lovely you wanted to buy ten more bowls of said porridge if only to make the pleasant surprise last,

“Really, unnie? Did you buy it?”

You could feel Hyewon’s glare boring a hole to your temple. If you dare saying it’s just a coincidence, the taller girl’s glare declared, I’m so going to burn down your—

“Yeah,” you breathed out, and the glare ceased. Yuri’s smile widened. Your heart ached. “Yeah, I do, so recover quickly, okay?”

“Only if you fed me.” Yuri blinked innocently, but you could see doubt in her eyes. Like she had prepared for you to reject it, to tell her that she was pushing her luck.

Hyewon approached you and passed the bowl.

You swallowed, touching the spoon.

“Sure, why not,” you said, and you hated the way surprise filled her eyes, hated yourself when you caught her murmuring I should be sick more often as Hyewon helped her to sit, hated the way the mini-Chaewon hadn’t disappeared from your mind, instead burrowing into your brain and nonchalantly lecturing you the whole time you fed Yuri the abalone porridge.

This is the present, mini-Chaewon said, this is what you have, but some other days you chase after the tomorrows and you lose the chance to have this because you get scared—

“I’m glad,” Yuri said, causing the on-going lecture in your head to fade.

You scraped the bottom of the bowl, already left with the last three spoonful. “Glad?” you repeated, gazing at her with an arch of your eyebrow.

“That I have you with me,” she said, smiling. You would have accused her of being delirious from meds, except she hadn’t taken her meds yet, Nako said she’d have to take it after this meal, and you were running out of excuses to wave away this sincere confession as something ignorable.

You brought the next bite to her, watching as she opened and took it obediently.

“What should I do if you’re sick like this,” you murmured, preparing the next bite.

“You’re doing great, already.”

“Yeah?”

Yuri nodded, swallowing down. There was a cute tilt of her head that she always did whenever she realized you still had something to say. You hated that she could read you so well.

“So then,” you slowly said amidst silence, along with the painful thudding of the heartbeat within your ribcage, “whenever you fall sick, would you come to me?”

It’s still scary, saying things like this without a joking tone, pouring feelings into words and putting them out there for people—for Yuri—to examine, but Yuri’s answering smile threw you back to those moments where happiness was within your grasp, your sound weaving around her laughter in the air like music.

“That would be nice,” she said, and you didn’t hold back this time, one hand reaching out to brush her damp bangs aside, resting your palm over her cheek, a breath catching in your throat when she leaned into your touch.

“It would, wouldn’t it?” you smiled, allowing a flurry of warmth to seep into you, soothing the hurting cracks in your lungs and filling up your heart.

What do we have, really, if not the present?

You wondered.

*

I wasn’t sure if I needed to seriously think about it or do something about it, you had read, not once, nor twice.

It was a snippet of Yuri’s section in the photobook, referring to the whole ‘only dating’ thing that seemed to haunt the both of you in every interviews. You read it over and over, until you memorized every word, until you could cite them even in your sleep.

You look over your shoulder for something that’s always been right in front of you, your fortune said, the wretched start of it all—except.

Except you weren’t really sure anymore. It felt like you had always had these feelings, and all the cursed piece of paper had done was forcing your eyes open to acknowledge them because you had been willingly staying blind.

What do we have, really, if not the present?

You ran a palm down and over your face, sighing deeply.

You hated that Chaewon was right.

*

Time flew as though it was chased by demon himself, and all of a sudden it was her birthday.

(Except it wasn’t so sudden for you.)

You couldn’t help but count the days leading up to it. Couldn’t forget, because you stayed up at some nights with the faint throb of your heart beneath your palm. You thought of her. You let yourself to think of her longer, allowed yourself to linger on the thoughts of her—

You wrote two letters, for her.

The first one was embarrassingly open. It contained your heart, filled with it to the brim and you reread it once, cheeks reddening at the words so painfully sincere you sounded like you were hoping to take her hand in—in—the m-word.

You shoved that letter under your pillow, swearing vehemently to yourself that Yuri would never get to read it. Embarrassing. You would never live it down. You would die on the spot.

So you composed another one, started another one with your feelings’ intensity toned down. Gingerly penning down your grateful heart, scribbling onto paper about those times you wished to say thank you but never got to, because expressing yourself was hard. It was hard whenever you couldn’t spin it into comedy. You blamed Yujin for it, just a little; you had been partners-in-clowns with her for far too long that it felt like a second skin now.

You safely finished the letter without wanting to throw yourself out of the window. Finished it almost too easily, because you were an expert at pushing feelings down. If only there was a tournament about it; you thought you’d be able to score at least third place. You folded the letter nicely, signed it with your name even though Yuri would easily know from your handwriting. Your preparation for the day was finished. Everything would be fine.

Except what ended up happening was this:

You handed her the wrong letter.

You only discovered it when a series of frantic knocks came to your door and Chaewon groaned something about rest-disturbers-demons as she buried her head into her pillow, Hyewon noisily munching a bag of chips in her bunk while Eunbi told you to open it.

You found Yuri.

Yuri, on your door, holding up an unfolded letter.

An unfolded letter with the wrong colour because you knew Yuri was meant to read the one coloured in pink, not orange—

“Is this true?” she asked you, breathless, cheeks flushed and hope filling up her gaze, tinted with doubts and disbelief.

You couldn’t breathe.

“Please just—tell me yes or no,” she said after an eternal pause, and already there was a defeated lilt creeping into her tone, like she realized that it was too good to be true.

But that was what she had been for you, wasn’t it?

A person too good to be true. A sunshine who deserved someone better than you. A soul you wanted to call as your soulmate but you're too scared to stick to it so you only said it half of the time, breaking the words on the other half of times, like a coward.

You forced yourself to inhale some air. You forced yourself to look at her, to catch her eyes. You forced yourself to stay in the present, and said,

“Yeah.” You saw the widening of her eyes and you repeated, faint, “Yeah, it’s true. You weren’t supposed to read it. I gave you the wrong one because it’s on your colour, I’m a —”

And then she hugged you. She hugged you and words fade, as well as the entire room, she hugged you and you felt like crying because you didn’t deserve her but you wanted to try to be and she was hugging you like you were all she wanted, like you were already enough, and you looped your arms around her, hugging her back, bringing her close.

She smelled nice and your heart soared high.

Give it a shot when your heart flutters and the air smells sweeter, Sungmin had said. You didn't think time would ever feel right, didn't think you'd ever stood there with her in your arms and everything else in a stand-still,

give it a shot and if it’s the right one for you, they will stay.

You used to think so bitterly of it—used to think that no matter how right, separation would take that someone away. Separation would yank them from you in the future but you weren't standing in the future, you were standing in the present, holding Yuri and wishing to keep having her in your todays—

You buried your nose into her blonde hair, taking in a shaky breath as your pulse thrummed louder and louder, almost deafening your ears.

“I like you,” you whispered, because love was still a word too strong, and already you felt your heart tremble and shudder and expand, felt her hug tightening around you, felt her chuckle upon your neck.

“Me too,” you heard her say, giddy and loving and relieved and soft, always soft for you in your yesterdays and your todays and your tomorrows, too, you hoped, wished, tried to believe. You closed your eyes and pressed a kiss to her temple and she melted in your hold, melted into you.

Me too, she told you.

Your heart burst.

*

Someday, you thought, I’ll let her know.

You did.