She meets Sooyoung for the first time at dance practice.

 

Her fingers glide across the sign-in sheet for her name, scribbles her signature in familiar loops and curves and passes it to the next person on the list, a “Ha Sooyoung” an anomaly on sheet of white.

 

“We're glad to have you in our class,” the dance instructor is polite before gesturing towards the rest of the students, clapping his hands. “Now for today's lesson…”

 

Jungeun tunes him out because she knows the drill; she learns the quickest, anyway. One preview and she's got it down.

 

“One, two, three, and four,”

 

But Ha Sooyoung moves like she's already mastered it. Jungeun already hates her.

 

“Impressive,” the instructor's praise is loud and clear, “again, from the top.”

 

Jungeun's never had to keep up. Not when she's always been the one to lead.

 

“Five, six, seven, eight,”

 

Her shoes squeak to each step, arms swift to lock, legs twisting and turning to the next stop. But she's a pop too slow, a wave too stiff, expression too weak compared to the new kid at the far corner; Sooyoung can’t blend in at the back no matter how much she might want to when her movements are sharp and precise in the mirror.

 

It’s only day one. Since when did Ha Sooyoung get so far ahead?

 

“Are you okay?” Jinsol has on her signature look of curved up eyebrows, her frown too deep to be anything else but genuine concern. Jungeun doesn’t like it. “You’ve been off beat the last few steps.”

 

“I’m fine,” she’s gritting teeth behind closed lips, eyes somehow straying back to watch Ha Sooyoung flick her hair and— yikes, Jungeun grunts - pausing her steps; she hates how right Jinsol is because damn it, she’s off by a second— again.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jinsol’s hand is on her shoulder, squeezing gently, as if it’d quell the frustration thrumming her chest.

 

Jungeun pretends she didn’t just glance back at Ha Sooyoung as if it wouldn’t hurt to take another peek, ignoring the faint warmth spilling into her cheeks at the ripple of muscle on the new girl’s stomach; all she was doing was tying her hair back.

 

Why couldn’t she have just worn a longer T-shirt?

 

Jungeun turns away, muffling her voice behind a hand, pretends that heat isn’t burning up her face. “Just fine.”

 

Geez, she’ll need a cold shower after this.

 

-

 

“Are you okay?”

 

It's not the first time Jungeun's heard that, but it whizzes past her mind as fast as the pain shooting up her leg, drawing gritted teeth and a groan too loud from her lips that it only calls Ha Sooyoung closer.

 

Jungeun flinches at a stranger's touch too heavy on her ankle, hissing at the sting of being moved, Sooyoung’s “sorry” not easing the fire beneath her skin.

 

It was supposed to be like any other dance practice. But Sooyoung’s stunning at the front with her steps too slick and her motions too smooth that somehow Jungeun was stupid enough to land on her ankle instead of her foot.

 

She should be better than this. She's supposed to be better than this.

 

Long dark hair and a bright red cap covers her vision. “Here, let me help.”

 

Arms snake under her back and knees, Sooyoung’s warmth seeping through her leggings and shirt that it snaps her attention, recognizing exactly what Sooyoung’s about to do. She’s about to carry her and that just makes it so much more easier to see the sweat on her skin, the curves of her jaw, the slopes of her arms—

 

Jungeun’s ears go ablaze. She doesn’t have to see them to know they’re terrifyingly red.

 

—Hell no; there is no way she’d let that happen.

 

She shoves Sooyoung away.

 

“N-No! It's—” she rises on shaky feet, resting a hand against the wall. “It's okay, really. I can walk,” a hiss leaves , lifting the weight off her injured leg. “I’m fine.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

Jungeun huffs. “Yes,” she waves off Sooyoung’s offered hand, looks away so she can't meet eyes that have captured everyone else's heart except hers. “I said I'm fine.”

 

She isn't. Far from it.

 

She's worked too hard to get to the top, be recognized for her flawless footwork, the flows in her arms, the execution of each expression; Sooyoung’s taken every recognition from her the moment she transferred in, like the perfect new student she is.

 

God, she hates being second place. If only Ha Sooyoung wasn't so ignorantly kind about it.

 

“Oh, okay.”

 

Jungeun settles by the stage, pretending to be busy on her phone, flicking through posts about cats and dogs so that maybe, just maybe, they'd distract her enough to not pay the new kid any attention – especially not on the beads of sweat down Sooyoung’s collarbones, or the sharp edges of her jawline, or even the veins on her arms.

 

She can’t help but think back on the one moment where they weren’t at opposite ends of the room for once; how her injury had them be the closest they’ve ever been, Sooyoung’s touch still lingering on her skin. Jungeun sighs into her hand, ignores Jinsol’s “You okay?” and plays it off like her ankle pains her more than the memory in her head.

 

She just hopes that Sooyoung never saw how her ears gave her heart away.

 

-

 

Ha Sooyoung is great.

 

Great at dancing, great at singing, great at smiling - even great at kissing (how people even came to know this, Jungeun has no clue).

 

Even worse, she’s heard more than enough times how much people wish she would be their soulmate.

 

She scoffs. Soulmates. Ick.

 

The thought of having Ha Sooyoung as her pre-destined lover has Jungeun rolling her eyes; as long as it isn’t her, she should be fine. Despite what everyone else says about how perfect she is, it’s all the more reason why she doesn’t want her as one.

 

It’s not like Jungeun takes opinions from strangers, anyway; how they all love to chatter about the next best thing; spread word like there was nothing else to talk about but the nice and pretty new transfer student in class 3-D.

 

“She's so kind, too!” Heejin’s awfully cheery, though maybe it’s because Hyunjin’s feeding her food and it’s getting to her.

 

Jungeun turns away from their names tattooed on their respective wrists. Must be nice to find that destined-someone meant just for you. Not that she'd want one, of course.

 

God, she hopes she never gets one.

 

Jiwoo doesn’t lift her lips from her straw. “Who?”

 

Heejin rolls her eyes like the answer was obvious. “Ha Sooyoung. You know, the new girl?”

 

Jungeun huffs, picking at tapered ends of her leg cast.

 

There it is, again. The star of every conversation.

 

Predictable how Jiwoo perks up at the mention of her, her straw bouncing in her drink, lips popped off it just to utter that god forsaken name.

 

“Sooyoung unnie? I know!”

 

Jiwoo's apple slips from fingers, rolling off to the end of the bench, cheeks tinged with pink and lips curled up into that shy smile she always wears whenever anything’s related to her.

 

Jungeun bites down a groan, scribbles her frustration with stick figures on her napkin from yet another conversation about the “beautiful transfer student”.

 

She loves her best friend. Really. But Jiwoo needs to learn how to not have heart eyes for Ha Sooyoung whenever she’s mentioned. Or at least, tone down on the typical high school crush with a “cool, mysterious” senior.

 

She can't imagine what Jiwoo would ever do if Ha Sooyoung were to breathe in her direction. Would she faint? Fall on her knees and offer a ring she doesn't have?

 

“Don't you ever get sick of talking about her?” Jungeun draws a tail and two horns on the stick figure, “She's not all that. No one is.”

 

“Wow, what's gotten you all salty?” Heejin’s always been too forward. But what bothers her more is that she doesn't know, either.

 

Maybe it's the way Ha Sooyoung’s two front teeth look like a rabbit's, or how her eyes are too big it's almost endless - hell, it's probably how she dances too well that she even manages to steal all of her attention.

 

Jungeun doesn't want to think about what that could mean. 

 

“Do you not like her, Jungie?” Jiwoo tilts her head, her green apple settled back in her hand. “I heard that she wanted to help you during dance practice last week. People wouldn't stop talking about it. Especially when you, um. Rejected her.”

 

Crack.

 

Jungeun groans. Damn it. Her stick figure has a crooked foot.

 

She needs another pencil.

 

“It's,” Jungeun sighs, digging through her pencil case. Rejection - really? What an exaggeration. “She’s fine. I just hate hearing her name every ten seconds.”

 

Because even when Jungeun's in the safety of her room, alone with just her music and her head, Ha Sooyoung is all she still hears.

 

“Oh, um, sorry.”

 

Jiwoo doesn't need to apologize. It's not her fault the rest of the student body can't get over how in love they are with Ha Sooyoung. 

 

-

 

Sooyoung is nice. That's part of the problem.

 

Jungeun can't bring herself to hate her as much because of it.

 

“You okay?”

 

She wonders if that's going to be the start of every conversation she'll ever have with Ha Sooyoung.

 

“I'm fine,” she slumps her crutches beside her on the bench, thunk, pulling out her lunch box.

 

It's nice out, today.

 

Jungeun fixes her gaze on the several rolls of sushi, picking up her chopsticks, pretends that Sooyoung isn't still standing in front of her like she doesn't know what to do besides greet her.

 

It’s weird seeing Sooyoung be within arms length instead of at opposite ends of the hallways. She’s gotten used to having Sooyoung be a mere passing glance in the halls that anything closer has Jungeun biting her lip.

 

A flutter of dark hair and the soft hum of “okay” has Jungeun lifting her gaze to watch Sooyoung turn away, walking off to a bench three tables to her right.

 

When the seats Jungeun's saved for are taken, barely paying attention to Jiwoo’s chipper chatter, or Heejin’s cackling laughter, or Hyunjin’s snarky jabs, Jungeun spares another glance (tenth going on eleventh) towards the apple of everyone else’s eye.

 

For someone so often found on people's lips, Ha Sooyoung is completely alone.

 

Jungeun swallows another bite of her roll, pretending there isn't a prickle in her chest to see someone supposedly so loved have no one next to her.

 

-

 

Not being able to dance for the next several weeks is hard, but busing to and from school is even worse.

 

Jungeun's been offered rides to avoid that but she likes being simple. And stubborn. And a little hot-headed. She's used to being difficult.

 

She grunts, careful to hop just high enough to make each step. She's done this for the last three days, but it hasn’t gotten any easier.

 

She's gotten sloppier even, missing the final ledge and slipping backwards, fumbling to grip anything - the railing, her crutches, the driver frantically reaching for her hand - and wondering if she'll be wearing another cast. Probably on her neck, if she lands badly enough.

 

Jungeun braces herself, squeezing her eyes shut and hoping it won't hurt as much to meet concrete, hopes that at most, she won’t be able to dance for a month instead of two, but nothing comes except for warmth wrapping around her stomach and a stuttered yelp too close to her ear.

 

“A-Are you okay?!”

 

She would've laughed for how often she hears that line if it weren't for the fact that Ha Sooyoung was holding her up, breathing against her neck, panic too easy to hear on her tongue. Of course. She just had to fall and it just had to be the one person Jungeun’s tired of seeing.

 

Jungeun ignores the skip her heart makes when Sooyoung asks again, the question she’s somehow not sick of hearing brushing against the lobe of her ear with lips too soft that it makes her feel hot and too bothered and—

 

“Are you okay, Jungeun?”

 

Oh, god.

 

How her name rolls off like that; too smooth, too soft, too easy - and way too warm. Jungeun hates how she can feel her pulse already rising. It’s dizzying.

 

“...I'm fine.”

 

They really need to come up with better lines than these.

 

Jungeun wriggles her grip off, rubs at her ear to scrape off the heat Sooyoung’s lips have burned her with, trembling fingers taking back her crutches when Sooyoung bends to pick them up. Sooyoung’s hand is warm on her back, guiding her up the last step even when she never asked.

 

Jungeun doesn’t bother pushing it away, not when she’d rather just hurry along and pretend none of that happened, showing her pass to the driver before attempting to make her way towards a seat, struggling just to keep upright on wobbly legs (it’s hard when all she can still feel is the ghost of Sooyoung’s breath on her ear).

 

Jungeun grits her teeth, frustration boiling in her chest; what annoys her even more than Ha Sooyoung herself is knowing that her knees aren’t shaking because of the fall.

 

She finds a spot not too far from the doors, clutching her crutches close so she doesn’t take up more space than necessary, but when Sooyoung takes the seat next to her, Jungeun can’t hide the surprise that tumbles out of .

 

“You take the bus?”

 

Sooyoung arches a brow. “...Am I not allowed to?”

 

“I don’t remember ever seeing you,”

 

“Maybe because you never look,”

 

Their first words together that don’t consist of false concern or common courtesy and Sooyoung’s already being snide about it? Jungeun doesn’t know whether to feel proud of their progress or frustrated that she has a similar dagger tongue.

 

Jungeun dances fingers on the cushion edges of her crutches, shifting her gaze to the large cast on her foot, remembers that it's still Sooyoung’s fault she can't walk. Even if Sooyoung doesn't know that.

 

“Probably because you're not worth looking at.”

 

The flicks of her wrists, the sways of dark hair, the smoothness in her steps - Jungeun still remembers how flawless Sooyoung looked in Adidas pants and oversized white-tee before pain shot up her leg.

 

Sooyoung’s silence tugs at Jungeun's chest a little, biting her lip, convinces herself that she's being a tad too harsh on the new girl, and sighs - Jiwoo's rubbing off on her.

 

“I - um, sorry.” Jungeun picks at the lint on her jeans, “...I didn't mean that. You are worth looking at - er, yeah, that sounds kind of weird, doesn't it? But - well, you're nice, and I was out of line,” she pinches herself, hopes it straightens out the words fumbling about on her tongue. “...Just...yeah.”

 

Chuckles worm their way into Jungeun's ears, realizing for the first time that the upward curls on Sooyoung’s lips have drawn a smile she's never seen.

 

It's not the courteous grin she sports at classmates, or the proud glimpse of white-teeth whenever an instructor talks praise; it's fleeting and has Jungeun scrambling to memorize it before it disappears, replaced with a tilt of her head and locks of dark hair.

 

“This is my stop,” Sooyoung’s standing, that chaste smile already gone, a smirk in its stead. “But I got what you meant, and I appreciate it. I just didn't think you were the type to stutter, but it’s cute.” She winks, as if delivering the final blow to Jungeun’s wounded ego (she never knew Sooyoung could be so forward). “Here's hoping you'll make it to six sentences instead of five, next time.”

 

Jungeun gapes; she takes back every single positive thing she's said about her - Ha Sooyoung is the worst.

 

“Wha— hey!” Jungeun fumbles with her crutches, curses for the fact that she can't run and shove a fist to her face.

 

Sooyoung throws her a dismissive wave over her shoulder, not once looking back at Jungeun before stepping out of the bus and disappearing around the corner.

 

Jungeun huffs, settling back in her seat and wishes the bus would get to her stop faster so every single pair of eyes won't burn holes through the side of her face anymore.

 

-

 

Jungeun can't say they're friends.

 

More than strangers but less than acquaintances; somewhere in the middle between Sooyoung’s surprisingly witty snark and her own love for never losing.

 

They're kind of perfect together that way (not that Jungeun enjoys her fleeting company - but Sooyoung’s a welcome change to Jiwoo's jolly happiness or Heejin's playful teasing; a softer sharp to Hyunjin's puncturing remarks).

 

“Your cast is bland,” Sooyoung prods at the edges, poking as if they were close enough to be less than ten feet away.

 

Ever since that bus ride, they’ve started talking more – as if waiting for a ride home was the only thing that needed to happen to spark up decent conversations.

 

Jungeun rolls her eyes. “Gee, thanks. It’s not like I want it to be pretty enough to stay, anyway.”

 

Sooyoung plucks a sharpie out of Jungeun's pencil case, frighteningly comfortable enough to not bother asking for permission before scribbling in an animal just below her toes.

 

“Who said anything about pretty? I'll make you look like the biggest thug around; no one'll dare try to pick a fight with you.”

 

Laughter slips so easily out of whenever she's with Sooyoung, now. And it's the most frightening thing she's ever felt.

 

“With a poorly drawn bird? If anything, they'd probably want to beat me up even more.”

 

Jungeun follows every Sooyoung paints on white cotton, her smile feeling permanent when she sees another bird being drawn - or at least, she thinks it’s one, listening to Sooyoung chuckle.

 

“That’s an owl,” she flicks her wrist, the last line on what looks like a bigger bird before peppering in little hearts everywhere. “And this is a swan.”

 

Jungeun nods along, tempted to roll her eyes because of how they look nothing like the animals she's just mentioned, but Sooyoung’s comically invested in making sure her cast is sprinkled with silly doodles - and Jungeun can't bring herself to hate any of it.

 

She’s getting too used to having Sooyoung around, already.

 

“...They're ugly,” Jungeun says, giggling at Sooyoung’s obnoxious sigh and rolling eyes.

 

“And you're uglier,”

 

“You’re so petty,”

 

Sooyoung snorts. “Sounds just like you.”

 

She tries to slap Sooyoung’s hand away, keep her from scribbling any more tragic drawings of animals that look nothing like animals, their laughter spilling through the air, until Sooyoung’s talking again and it halts all her thoughts – her heart pauses as quickly as clicks shut.

 

“I thought you hated me,” Sooyoung chuckles, tracing circles, drawing nothing in particular. “Then again, rumour has it that I make you nervous.”

 

Jungeun doesn’t know whether she should be impressed or not at how Sooyoung manages to make a loaded statement turn into something lighthearted – with a twinge of narcissism.

 

She scoffs, her heart picking up its natural pace again. “Not even close,”

 

“So, you don’t hate me?”

 

“What makes you think that?” She says, as if Sooyoung wasn’t actually right; it’s not like she needed to know, anyway. Especially not when it technically only surfaced during the times Sooyoung appeared more…just more. Too much that sometimes, Jungeun forgets she’s staring.

 

Not that she voluntarily wants to, of course.

 

“You’re always glaring at me,” Sooyoung pauses, tapping a finger against her chin. “Especially during dance practice.”

 

Jungeun scowls, ignoring the flame swallowing up her ears; it’s happening too often, lately. But to think Sooyoung even noticed – she should find more interesting things on Instagram to distract herself better; dogs and cats aren’t cutting it.

 

She huffs. “That’s only because I can’t keep my eyes off of you whenever you—”

 

Her words cut short, clamping her teeth shut, eyes widening at the way Sooyoung’s mouth falls open. Crap. Did she seriously just say that out loud?

 

Jungeun curses under her breath, trying to reel it back in, erase the silly mistake that she had just admitted to being too focused on watching her. She wishes she could just fall into a hole, or better yet, run – stupid cast.

 

So Jungeun tries the next best thing – distract her.

 

“Your drawings are horrendous; they make me want to vomit.”

 

Please be distracted, please be offended, please just don’t bring that one thing up—god, I’m stupid, stupid, stupid.

 

She blinks at dark tresses falling over Sooyoung’s shoulder, going rigid when all she sees is Sooyoung moving closer—wait, is she— that Jungeun squeezes her eyes shut because oh god— she can feel Sooyoung’s breath on her lips.

 

She can’t be. Is she—

 

“Relax, I’m not going to kiss you.” Jungeun could practically feel Sooyoung’s smirk, all smug and annoying and dammit, she wants to punch her – and maybe kiss her, too. Just to prove her wrong. “Unless you want me to.”

 

She snorts, opening her eyes to see that Colgate grin and irises filled with flecks of brown and— oh, they’ve got a bit of a topaz glow, twinkling and a little bright and—

 

Jungeun catches herself shifting forward, her thoughts halting at a truth she’s afraid of hearing even in her own head— and a little irresistible.

 

She wants to run. She needs to run. Oh god, she should just run.

 

“…Whenever I, what?” Sooyoung’s enjoying this way too much – Jungeun can tell, from the arch of her brow to the grin that’s eager to swallow her face. “You can’t keep your eyes off of me whenever I what, Jungeun?”

 

Whenever you look back at me. She’s not dumb enough to continue that sentence out loud.

 

Jungeun clears , leaning back so her heart could relax. “…Whenever you look like you’re about to break a leg.”

 

That was the best she could do – her chest is still thudding loud enough that her eardrums feel like they’re about to burst, as if it’s just one beat away from spilling out of for Sooyoung to hear. Her brain isn’t coping any better; not when all she can see are words telling her to it up – try out the truth for once, see where it takes them.

 

Jungeun yelps at a flick to her forehead. Did Sooyoung just—

 

“That’s boring,” Jungeun rubs at her skin, frowning as Sooyoung gets up to dust off invisible specks on her jeans. “I was hoping it’d be something more exciting.”

 

Telling Sooyoung she watches her because she wants to catch Sooyoung look back at her is definitely not something exciting—at least, not for her. There’s no way she’s opening up a discussion on a topic she isn’t ready to listen to—she’s sure Sooyoung isn’t up to hearing it, either.

 

Jungeun waves her off. “Too bad; your ego’s been often enough, I’m sure.”

 

Laughter spills from Sooyoung’s throat, crescent smiles painting over her eyes that Jungeun takes a moment just to memorize it all: the creases on her skin – how the corners of her lips curl up as she laughs, how her eyes crinkle in a way that makes a smile sketch across her own mouth, too.

 

When the bell rings and Sooyoung walks her to class, carrying her books and bags, and offering a gentle hand up a few flight of stairs, Jungeun wonders when she went from hating the new kid to thinking of how lunch should’ve lasted longer if only so she could spend a little more time with her.

 

“Jungeun?”

 

“Yeah?” She turns back around just as she’s about to enter her class, spots Sooyoung rubbing the side of her neck, eyes darting elsewhere that it takes a moment for Jungeun to recognize it. She’s nervous.

 

“Can I, um,” it’s almost disorienting to see Sooyoung - poised, calm, collected, Ha Sooyoung - shuffling her feet, bowing her head like she can’t meet her eyes. “Would it be okay if I walked you home? After school, I mean.”

 

Jungeun pretends her stomach didn’t just jump with what feels like a bunch of stupid butterflies at the thought of it.

 

“...You sure you’re not just trying to find out where I live so you could stalk me?” She plays it off like it’s one of their banters and not a possible start for something too close to her heart. “I don’t know about that…”

 

“Oh, er - well, then I take it back—”

 

Jungeun grasps her arm, squeezing gently so that Sooyoung wouldn’t be so fidgety anymore. “I’m kidding,” she nudges her elbow, curls her hair back behind her ear. “I’ll see you later then?”

 

Sooyoung’s eyes light up and that’s all it takes for Jungeun to get why everyone likes her so much.

 

“Yeah,” she squeezes Jungeun’s hand that's somehow still holding onto her. “Yeah, see you later.”

 

-

 

Maybe it’s the autumn weather, the cold getting to her, that makes Ha Sooyoung’s name roll off her lips too often that she's lost count.

 

Sooyoung, Sooyoung, Sooyoung.

 

It tastes familiar and scary all at once.

 

“Yeah?” Sooyoung tilts her head when she calls her name for the fourth time, scratching at her turtleneck. Jungeun doesn’t know why it makes warmth cross her cheeks. She just hopes Sooyoung can’t see it, hiding away in her scarf. “What’s up?”

 

It's the fifth time Sooyoung’s walking her home, and Jungeun still feels both giddy and nervous about it.

 

At first, she thought Sooyoung was doing it out of sympathy - that her cast and her crutches called for her kindness and not just because Sooyoung wanted to spend time with her (why that even matters bothers Jungeun more than she'd like).

 

But even when the wooden aids are gone and the itchy prison isn't wrapped around her leg anymore, Sooyoung still offers to walk her home. Jungeun never says no.

 

Her chest always swells whenever she catches Sooyoung waiting by the gates, how her nerves spill down to her fingers whenever their hands brush because they've started to walk too close; still hanging by their sides holding onto nothing, but just enough so their skin could still bump each other every once in a while.

 

It’s all Jungeun needs to feel warm.

 

“...Aren’t you cold?” Jungeun’s gesturing to the crop top Sooyoung has on beneath her long beige coat; it’s not even closed. “You’ll freeze to death.”

 

Dramatic, she knows, but it gets the point across. And apparently a smile on Sooyoung’s lips. Jungeun hates that she wants to see more of it.

 

“Oh, no I’m used to it.” Sooyoung shrugs, brushing her hair back. “Look at you, all worried. It's cute.”

 

Jungeun huffs, burying her face deeper into cotton red, hopes it hides even the growing flush in her ears.

 

“...Shut up,”

 

She hears her laugh, but instead of nudging her by the ribs to get her to stop, Jungeun keeps silent so she could listen.

 

“Here we are,”

 

Her house comes into view too soon, the few steps up the stairs too short. Sooyoung nudges her forward, her warmth seeping into the small of her back.

 

“Go on, it's cold.” Sooyoung grins, lips a savory hue of scarlet, her hand rubbing the side of her neck like there's an itch. She wiggles her brows, all too smug. “You'll freeze to death.”

 

Jungeun rolls her eyes so she could stop staring at her new favorite shade of red on Sooyoung’s lips.

 

“Har, har, very funny.” She doesn’t move towards her house, instead, stepping forward and reaching up, poking Sooyoung’s hand that’s still rubbing at her skin. “You’ve been doing that a lot, lately.”

 

She pretends it isn’t the first time she’s gotten this close to her. Voluntarily, at least.

 

“Oh,” Sooyoung brings her hand down, tugging Jungeun’s along, and huh, they’re holding hands, before Sooyoung’s letting go. Her warmth still lingers on Jungeun’s palm. “It’s nothing.”

 

She resists rolling her eyes, settling for a scoff instead. “Right. Whatever you say.”

 

“Really,” Sooyoung shrugs, stepping back, nodding her head towards her house. “It’s nothing. Now shoo. Go home. It’s literally right there.”

 

Jungeun sticks her tongue out, waving her off from the top of the stairs and watches Sooyoung walk away when she knows she isn’t looking.

 

For a moment, she wished Sooyoung kissed her at her doorstep, or at least, that she had enough courage to lean up, capture savory red and have a taste of what they’d be like together.

 

It’s only when she settles under the covers, her phone screen lighting up to Sooyoung’s Goodnight text and how easily it paints a smile on her face that Jungeun realizes she wouldn’t mind having Sooyoung as her soulmate.

 

-

 

It takes three months for hers to come along, sketching pain across her skin.

 

Jungeun winces, clutching her hand, stumbling against the wall just beside dance class because damn it, it burns. Like fire grazing her skin, she could see wisps of smoke spill between her fingers, hoping that maybe, if she squeezes her wrist hard enough, it’d ease the flame beneath her palm.

 

She curses under her breath, wanting nothing more than for it to stop. It’s not like she needs a soulmate, anyway - she’s completely fine on her own. Better yet, she’d rather make the choice - have the freedom to choose who she wants instead of the world deciding for her.

 

But the moment the pain clears and the name is scrawled in pristine black for someone Jungeun doesn't recognize, her back slides against the wall, curling into herself as if it’d fix the ache in her chest and the choked sob from her lips.

 

All she can think about is how it isn't Ha Sooyoung - and how it should’ve been.

 

Sooyoung. Sooyoung. Sooyoung.

 

She chokes out a laugh, combing her hair back, wondering if her tears will stop falling any time soon. To think that she wanted anyone else's name as long as it was never Sooyoung’s. She should be happy. Relieved, even.

 

Jungeun buries herself in her arms, a noise mixed between laughter and a sob escaping her lips. Why can’t she just be happy?

 

“What's wrong, Jungie?”

 

Jungeun jumps, catches a frown and auburn bangs before shielding herself in her arms again. She forgot that Jiwoo recently joined dance class. Of course she'd be here.

 

“...N-Nothing,” she rubs at her eyes, knows that Jiwoo won't buy it, but it's worth a try. “It's nothing, really.”

 

Her voice stays muffled against her sleeves, not willing to look up and see brown eyes too concerned that it'd probably make her cry even more.

 

She hears shuffling, no doubt settling down beside her to comfort her even if it's just to be there. Jungeun appreciates it, but it's hard to ignore the burning on her wrist. She just wants to go home and scrub it off – make the name fade even just a little bit so it won’t remind her of who she doesn’t have.

 

“...I got my soulmate, today.” Jiwoo’s voice is soft, as if hesitant to share it, like it was a secret she'd rather keep to herself.

 

Jungeun perks up. “Y-You did?”

 

A nod, watching Jiwoo roll up her sleeve that Jungeun realizes that the names aren’t just fixed on a wrist, how the start of black ink is etched near the crook of her elbow. It’s kind of amazing how they got theirs on the same day. She would’ve expected Jiwoo to be her soulmate, if anything.

 

She’ll tell Jiwoo about hers, later; when snot and tears are finally out of her voice.

 

“...It's Sooyoung,” Jiwoo’s sigh sounds like a dream, almost relieved, like it was too good to be true.  “Can you believe it?”

 

Jungeun’s stomach drops at the name she wishes was on her skin instead.

 

No, she wants to say. She can't believe it. She doesn’t want to believe it. Her mind whirls at images of Sooyoung and Jiwoo together, conjuring up pictures of dates they could have, moments they could share, kisses they could promise—

 

Jungeun buries herself deeper into cotton sleeves. She hates how she could imagine herself with Sooyoung, too. All snarky and no bite, playful shoves and nudges that don’t call for bruises except for the tingling in her chest whenever they get a little too friendly, a little too soft – and a little too close.

 

She wonders if Sooyoung knows; if Jiwoo’s name is written somewhere on Sooyoung’s skin, too.

 

“I guess that means I should finally talk to her and not just stare at her whenever she walks by, huh.” Jiwoo laughs, bright and shy and so much more happier than her – Jungeun flinches at the sound.

 

There's envy crawling up her chest and for a moment, Jungeun hopes that Jiwoo wouldn't. That she'd stay exactly where she's always been - looking from afar; far, far, away.

 

“Are you serious?!”

 

“As serious as the fried roots on your head, Jinsol.”

 

Jungeun feels Jiwoo jolt beside her, hears her rise to her feet. It makes panic grow in her chest too, for how Jiwoo’s whisper – I-It’s Sooyoung unnie! has her heart leaping in her chest.

 

She manages to stand on wobbly legs, smearing her tears across her sleeves only because Sooyoung’s laughter is echoing closer and Jungeun doesn't want her to notice. She gets away with a practiced smile and an exaggerated flailing of her hands to keep Sooyoung’s attention away from her eyes; they’d tell too much.

 

Practice goes horribly, as expected, and it doesn't help that Sooyoung does notice enough to check up on her every time she makes a mistake.

 

“I’m fine,” is what Jungeun says whenever Sooyoung gives her that look - too caring, too gentle, too sweet, and not the words boiling on her tongue “I wish it was you,” instead.

 

Jungeun cries herself to sleep that night, finding no comfort in Sooyoung’s routine text of Goodnight when she knows she’s meant for someone else.

 

She wishes she still hated her.

 

-

 

Jo Haseul's nice, funny, kind, smart.

 

At least, that's what she hears.

 

Jungeun peers into the room filled with instruments and microphones and wonders if things would be different if she chose to sing over dance.

 

Would she still want Sooyoung?

 

“Hey there, are you interested in joining choir?” Short dark hair catches her eyes, small but peppy like there's a skip in her step.

 

Jungeun blinks, processing that yes, she's the student council president with a winning Colgate smile that's both sweet and irresistible.

 

She's lucky to have Haseul as her soulmate. Maybe she could even give them a try; see what destiny has in mind instead of trying to escape it - to not have her choices be her own.

 

Jungeun turns away. “Sorry, I just wanted to see if a friend was here.”

 

But she's not Ha Sooyoung.

 

“Oh, okay.” The name on her wrist feels heavy, “Well, come by anytime if you want to join!”

 

Jungeun leaves, scraping her nails against the ink embedded on her skin, disappointment and frustration building up her chest every time she draws blood instead of the name she doesn’t want.

 

She'd rather not have a soulmate at all if it isn’t Ha Sooyoung.