Subtlety is not amongst the colors that constituted Jiwoo.

Jiwoo has always been bright—vibrant.

Jungeun could tell the first time she saw Jiwoo, even though she’d only seen her from afar, that she would be a tad bit louder than everyone (and Jungeun was right, of course). She didn’t think it possible for someone to be so, but, as she shared a class with Jiwoo, as their interactions grew longer and more often, as she heard Jiwoo’s voice reach startling volumes, and as she saw the extremes of human facial expressions through Jiwoo, Jungeun had repeatedly been proven wrong.

It took some getting used to. Jungeun found herself, on several occasions, walking the line between annoyed and amused.  

She thought of this as a consequence of their differences. Where Jiwoo was loud, Jungeun was, in contrast, more controlled—muted. But, in ways that mystified Jungeun, she mixed well with Jiwoo. Yes, Jungeun’s auditory senses had to adjust, but they made a rather interesting and formidable duo.

“It’s probably because you’re both competitive,” Jooe, their classmate, had guessed (because even their friends found their dynamic unexpected) after watching Jungeun and Jiwoo obliterate the rest of their opponents in the three-legged race and relay event at their school’s sports day. Jungeun, still high from their victory, just shrugged and shared a grin with Jiwoo.

But, when Jiwoo seemed like the only one who could make her laugh in her hardest days as a trainee, when Jiwoo held her in the moments of defeat, whenever Jiwoo—with all her loudness—heard the softest whispers and saw the slightest of changes, and understood, Jungeun knew that what they had was not something so shallow as to be attributed to a mutual passion for winning.

Jungeun wondered if it was music. It’s the reason she’s hesitant whenever she comes over to study at Jiwoo’s place (though she goes anyway), because when Jiwoo gets bored, she plays music and when she plays music, she dances and when she dances, she bugs Jungeun until she dances too. “This is counterproductive”, Jungeun would say, to which Jiwoo would reply, while shuffling, “and you’re counter-fun.” Jungeun need not much convincing though, because Jiwoo knows her jam. Least to say, their study sessions end up with them on the floor laughing and too tired to study.  But, Jungeun would like to believe, that they enjoyed each other’s company for reasons beyond their interest in the art.

“Do you ever think about how we became friends?” Jungeun asked, while she and Jiwoo were sprawled on the former’s bed, post-study session turned dance party.

Jiwoo looked at her with question.

“It’s just that you’re so loud and I’m more on the quiet--” Jungeun continued.

“Quiet?!”

“What? Do you disagree?"

“You’re pretty loud when you’re with me.” Jiwoo stated with a proud grin. “Anyway, why does it matter?” she said as she turned to her side to hug Jungeun, eyes closing and breath slowing.

Jungeun looked at her best friend fall asleep, head nestled on her neck, and realized she didn’t have an answer to Jiwoo’s question. How they came to be didn’t seem to matter as much as what they are now. It didn’t matter as much as eating lunch together, and dancing to Red Velvet songs, and taking photos for Jiwoo’s Instagram account, and watching cheesy romance movies together, and fake-fighting—that, more often than not, leaves someone with an injury—and cuddling—Jungeun secretly loved that one. Jungeun fell asleep shortly after Jiwoo—if it was from exhaustion or ease —she didn’t know.

~~~

Subtlety is not amongst the colors that constituted Jiwoo.

She had never been good at hiding for the loudness of her voice, Jungeun discovered early on, extended to her actions.

Whenever Jiwoo passes an audition or wins a taekwondo match, Jungeun could tell before Jiwoo says anything because of the way her body literally buzzes with excitement. But Jungeun would sit there and pretend otherwise because she happens to be fascinated with how Jiwoo attempts to recall what happened, with how animated Jiwoo moves, how much space she takes up as she reenacts certain moments, how her eyes light up, how her laugh fills the room.

Jungeun’s “best friend senses” also help a lot when Jiwoo has a bad day—like when a company rejects her or when she reads a mean comment under her Instagram post—though it’s a bit harder to tell because she tries her best not to show. Her smile would not falter for a second and her laugh would not sound any less than her usual, but Jungeun found that Jiwoo hugs a little tighter in those days. And it would break Jungeun’s heart a little because it feels as if Jiwoo couldn’t carry her weight any longer; it feels a lot like a desperate attempt at not falling. So, in those days, Jungeun holds Jiwoo a little tighter too.

Recently, though, Jiwoo has not been as easy to decipher. Or maybe that was just Jungeun, with how busy she’s gotten as a trainee. She’s always at the company, practicing, and in the times she’s not, she finds Jiwoo occupied with hopping from one academy to another.

But that day, Jiwoo and Jungeun found the time for a study session in the former’s house. It didn’t end with a dance party, though, since they were already tired and didn’t have the luxury of time. Jungeun didn’t think she would miss Jiwoo’s bed that much and she was very tempted to turn the music on herself.

“Maybe I should be a taekwondo instructor,” Jiwoo joked but Jungeun swore she heard the fear lying under Jiwoo’s voice. She too was familiar with the crippling doubts of not debuting. 

“Hey…” Jungeun moved to place a hand on Jiwoo’s shoulder.

But Jiwoo, while grinning, shrugged the hand away, “I was just joking, silly.” Jungeun pretended to be relieved. She could tell that Jiwoo pretended as well.

Jiwoo lied her head on her best friend’s lap and Jungeun’s hand, as if on auto, started playing with Jiwoo’s hair.

Jungeun watched as the golden hue that surrounded the room grew dimmer until the dark engulfed everything. Jungeun thought that Jiwoo must have been sleeping because she’s never gone a night without a light , so Jungeun motioned to the lamp but Jiwoo held her hand. Maybe tonight, Jiwoo let the dark be.

Not for the first time on that room, Jungeun found herself wondering about a question—one that she has kept unanswered for a while.

“Do you ever wonder about how we became friends?” she asked before.

“Why does it matter?” Jiwoo replied then.

Jungeun thought that maybe these days are why it matters. Maybe Jungeun wanted to find out before—and more so, now—because she wanted something beyond music or competitiveness. Maybe it’s in these moments when she needs something to tell her that what she has with Jiwoo is special; she needed something to assure her that she wasn’t going to lose her best friend.

Jungeun hugged Jiwoo tighter that day, maybe because she needed it too.

~~~

Subtlety is not amongst the colors that constituted Jiwoo.

Her voice, her actions—they mirrored what she felt, but neither were as expressive as her eyes.

Her eyes were Jiwoo’s truth and Jiwoo’s truth, Jungeun keeps on discovering, took on many shapes.

Her truth was two crescents when she was happy. They were almost curved lines when Jiwoo laughed, and at the sight, Jungeun would feel her lips curling into a smile.

They were ellipses, almost circles, when Jiwoo was curious or stunned. They often made an appearance since Jiwoo was easily excited. When Jungeun had shown Jiwoo her dance cover to Eve, when she had taken Jiwoo to a plushie store, when Jiwoo told her of a weird encounter in the elevator—she couldn’t help but stare at the wide-eyed girl.

Her eyes.

Her eyes are…nice, Jungeun thought as she watched Jiwoo fix her tie.

Okay, more than nice, Jungeun admitted. She was staring at Jiwoo’s eyelashes when Jiwoo suddenly moved away. Jungeun was met by Jiwoo’s smile, she felt a pat near her chest, “All done,” Jiwoo said before going back to her desk. Later that day, for reasons unknown, Jungeun returns to Jiwoo with a messed-up tie and an eager grin.

Jiwoo’s eyes are, perhaps, Jungeun’s new favorite color. Maybe that’s why Jungeun looked forward to Jiwoo wearing glasses, instead of lenses.

Jungeun didn’t know how to tell Jiwoo that she has crescent moons for eyes whenever she laughs, that they were far from blue and yet, their depth were reminiscent of pools (or something deeper, black holes, maybe?), that the years Jungeun had spent swimming did not help her from drowning in Jiwoo’s eyes, that Jiwoo’s eyes were dark chocolate, that Jiwoo’s eyes weirdly reminded her of the tapioca pearls she orders extra on her milk tea, that everything good about the world reminded her of Jiwoo’s eyes. So, instead she says, “you look like a toad,” and earns a light punch.

Her eyes could be a show on their own. And Jungeun had always been an avid watcher.

She watched as Jiwoo’s eyes changed from wide-eyed shock to delighted crescents to shy gazes in mere seconds. Jungeun couldn’t quite hear what Jiwoo was saying—which says a lot, considering how loud Jiwoo is—and she wished that this was one of those black-and-white silent movies she and her dad used to watch, where dialogue appears on the screen, or subtitles—she wished there were subtitles. It wasn’t that the cafeteria was too noisy for her to hear Jiwoo, it was quite the opposite actually—she felt as though everything was on mute and she was only sitting there, with the TV screen zooming in on one thing: Jiwoo’s eyes.

“It was weird but,” Jiwoo takes a bite off of her sandwich, “she’s super kind and funny.” It comes out as shuperr kinmd an, swallow, funny, but Jungeun wouldn’t have known. “Jungeun? Jungeun!”

“Huh? What?” Jungeun exclaims as though she was just awoken. She drinks from her tumbler.

Jiwoo slouches, “You haven’t been listening, have you?”

Jungeun gulps, “What? No, I mean—I was just, um,” she clears , ”tired, I think, from that English exam.”

Jiwoo’s eyes narrow in response, “…the one we had yesterday?”, she asks.

“Yeah,” Jungeun curses in her head, “But enough of that, you were telling me about…?” She hopes Jiwoo would continue before she would have to finish that sentence.

“…a girl I met at an academy,” Jiwoo added, to Jungeun’s relief. “Anyway, so we grabbed lunch after bec…”, and just like that, the show resumed after a short commercial break.

~~~

Subtlety was the shade of every color that constituted Jungeun.

She has never been good at art, so making this metaphor was ambitious of her.

She is good at dancing, though; it was among the many ways she can control herself.

People usually lose themselves through dance, but Jungeun’s movements were calculated and strict in terms of details. It baffled many how Jungeun never seemed to be satisfied with her dancing, and it confused the few she had shown variations of steps to—it looks the same, they’d say—frustrating Jungeun all the more. Usually, no one would notice the slight changes she made—except Jiwoo.

“Oh, that’s actually better,” Jiwoo said after watching Jungeun turn her hips a little more to the left.

“Right?!” Jungeun huffed in frustration as she grabbed her tumbler.  She sat beside Jiwoo. Why can’t others see that, she thought, isn’t it obvious that—

Her thoughts halt as she took in the person who has taken over her view. Jiwoo moved in front of her, perhaps a little too close, and Jungeun thanked the excuse of having just danced for the red hue that was slowly settling in her cheeks. Jiwoo smiled fondly at Jungeun—who was busy internally yelling at herself to calm down—and moved her hand to pinch at the gap between Jungeun’s furrowed eyebrows.

“Hey, grumpy,” Jiwoo grinned.

Jungeun tried to scowl—she swore she did—but she couldn’t contain her laugh. (Huh, maybe there was something she couldn’t control.) Jiwoo laughed along. It was only the two of them, but it seemed as though their laughter filled the practice room. After they’d wrung out the last of their laughs, Jiwoo turned to Jungeun with a concerned face.

“I wish you were a little less hard on yourself.” Jiwoo sighed. Jungeun shook her head.

“I see the difference—I do. But sometimes,” Jiwoo hesitated, “sometimes, I wish you dance the same way you laugh.”

Jungeun stared in confusion. Jiwoo looked back with proud eyes. “And honestly, you can make any step look amazing.” Jiwoo winked. After a beat, she grabbed Jungeun’s leg. “Jungeun-ah, saranghae!”

Jungeun found herself smiling at the thought of Jiwoo being proud her—not that Jiwoo didn’t remind her enough. Jiwoo expressed her support through…loud means and, whenever Jungeun performed, her affirmations often came in the form of shrieks, but Jungeun relished these kinds of assurances—small but theirs only.  

Also, ‘saranghae?!’ Jiwoo, don’t throw that around so easily. I—

~~~

The next time she hears Jiwoo’s shrieks, they’re not for her. They were directed at a girl who was dancing in the middle of a park.

Jiwoo and Jungeun had gone out that day to unwind. After they’d gone through the streets of trendy cafes and, much to Jungeun’s delight, boutiques, they stopped by a nearby park to grab some food. A performance was starting when Jungeun had left to buy fries from a nearby stall and she hasn’t even gone back before she heard the familiar sound of Jiwoo’s screams.

As she found her way to her spot, Jungeun smiled apologetically at the people around them; she had gotten immune to the volume of Jiwoo, but that doesn’t mean others have. 

“Hey!” She lightly pushed Jiwoo. “I know it’s impossible but tone it down.”

Jiwoo just screamed higher in response, causing Jungeun to laugh, but not without pushing Jiwoo more.

Jiwoo and Jungeun were on their way home when–

“Jiwoo!” a girl with long hair called out while running towards them.

Jungeun faced Jiwoo but she found that Jiwoo was already looking ahead, grinning at the girl approaching them.

“There you are.” The girl smiled back when she was finally in front of them.

“Sooyoung!” Jiwoo exclaimed as she hugged the girl—Sooyoung, apparently.

After a few words and introductions, Jiwoo and Sooyoung said her goodbyes, but it was as if Sooyoung never left them. Jungeun has only met Sooyoung once but, with how Jiwoo has carried her in their conversations after the encounter, she already knew more than necessary.

Yeah, I know she can dance, I saw it, Jiwoo. Yes, you already mentioned about the academ—wait, academy?

“She’s the girl from the academy?!” Jungeun asked, perhaps a little too loud.

Jiwoo looked at her in disbelief, “Yes, I’ve been saying that for, like, an hour.”

She’s the girl from the elevator, the super funny one, the one who went to lunch with Jiwoo and she’s whatever else Jiwoo mentioned but Jungeun was too distracted to hear.

They are in a studio the next time they meet Sooyoung. The difference, though, is that Jungeun is far from Jiwoo. So, she could see how they were tangled up with each other, laughing about something Sooyoung said. Jungeun didn’t need to hear Jiwoo laugh nor see how close she held Sooyoung; all she needed to see were the crescents.

A foreign feeling—something Jungeun found to be close to an ache—took over her chest.

“Jungeun!” someone calls out. Jungeun looked up to Jiwoo waving her and calling her over. Jungeun’s face felt a little too heavy and smiling felt like a conscious effort, but she smiled back anyway.

She comes up to them. “Hey, guys.”  Jungeun tried to look elsewhere but her thoughts halt at one sight, They’re not moving, Jiwoo’s crescents, they’re still holding each other, crESCENTS.

 Jiwoo frowned, “You okay?”

“What? Uh,” she tried to regain composure, “yeah, all good.” Jiwoo’s eyebrows stay furrowed.

Sooyoung turned to Jiwoo and pinches the gap between her eyebrows. Jiwoo stared back in surprise. A beat later, they’re giggling. GIGGLING, Jungeun singles out the sound. And that pinch.

This time, it is Sooyoung who called Jungeun’s attention, “Sorry about that, “she smiled at Jiwoo, her eyes, Jungeun noticed, formed crescents too. “do you want to grab lunch with us?”

And suffer through this? Jungeun wanted to add.

“I have to say no,” she answered, keeping the smile on her face. “I was just around and Jiwoo told me she was here, so I just came to greet her.”

Sooyoung nodded. “Maybe next time?” she asked.

“Sure. Have fun, though.” Jungeun said, already finding her way out. She wasn’t lying, she did want to go out with them, and Sooyoung seemed like a cool person. But that would have to happen some other day, when she has this all figured out—when she has tucked this loose strand of a feeling in her perfectly kept self—when she can control it.

Subtlety is not amongst the colors that constituted Jiwoo.

So, perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Jiwoo was falling for a girl named Sooyoung.

What Jungeun hadn’t expected, however, was that she has already fallen for Jiwoo.