Note: A few readers asked me about playlists/songs for this story. For this chapter, I listened to these two songs a lot. Songs won’t always be directly tied to the content of the chapter, these two happen to have similar themes. You're also not obligated to listen to these songs and will not miss out on anything if you don't listen to them:

• Easily by Bruno Major
• Crush by Yuna (Feat. Usher)

Byulyi’s first kiss happened at age 12.

As with every summer, she spent the months off from school living with family in the United States—Oakland, to be exact. She liked Oakland. The Bay Area was different enough that she’d have tons of stories to talk off the ears of her friends back home, yet familiar enough that she didn’t feel completely a fish out of water.

Northern California was known for its large population of Koreans, Korean businesses, and Korean community organizations, all of which Moonbyul was immensely grateful for during her first couple of summers there. Her English was decent, but the quick pace of real-life conversation was nothing like that of the language she excelled at in the controlled environment of her English class back home. On the basketball courts of the American camps she attended, Byulyi would quickly grow frustrated at not being able to understand everything or communicate the plays and patterns she saw happening. In those instances, she had the luxury of teammates that spoke and understood Korean. They served as conduits of information between Byulyi, coaches, and other players. In addition to translating, they’d host impromptu English lessons for Moonbyul during water breaks and bus rides home, covering everything from basketball terms to everyday conversation. “Any number in the 40s means full-court pressure. Whole court,” they’d say, or “she said she likes your eyes. Eyes. She thinks they’re pretty. 예쁘다,” or “that means they want you to sit with them at lunch.” Without those kind young Korean-American girls that took her under their wings during the day and hung out with her at Korean shops at night, summers in the States would have been miserable. Without them, she wouldn’t have been prepared for that summer.

While she remembered overhearing bits and pieces of conversations that year between her uncle and father about sending her to camps in other parts of the country, that summer proceeded as normal: Byulyi only attended camps in the Bay Area. It was fine with her. Some people came and went, but many of those she saw at camps were the same faces she’d seen since she was 8-years-old. She’d grown comfortable and forged solid relationships with them. They were her friends and they did what friends did. Outside of basketball, they had sleepovers, they went to the movies, they hung out.

During the last week of Byulyi’s time in Oakland that summer, one of her long-time basketball friends, Khadijah, had a party to celebrate her 13^th birthday. She invited the basketball crew to join her non-athletic friends at an arcade-bowling alley. It was a lot of fun. By then, Moonbyul’s English had improved tremendously, so she was able to communicate more naturally with everyone, spending the night mingling with many of Khadijah’s non-athletic friends. One girl, in particular, Tamika, talked to her a lot that day. She pulled Byulyi along to play laser tag with her, made sure Byulyi was on her team for bowling, convinced Byulyi to pool her money with hers so that they could buy and share snacks. Moonbyul thought it was cool, she’d made a new friend.

Eventually, the party crawled to an end, the number of partygoers slowly dwindling as guardians came to pick up their teenagers pre-teens. It was no different for Byulyi. Her older cousin showed up, ready to take the young girl home. As she was collecting her things, Tamika walked up to Byul’s cousin and asked if they could play one last game. “It’ll be quick,” Byulyi remembered the young girl saying. In no rush, Byul’s cousin agreed and Tamika whisked Byul way to the furthest end of the arcade. They ended up at the Pop-A-Shot machines, young-Byulyi assuming Tamika wanted to play basketball.

They did not play basketball. Instead, Tamika led her to behind one of the machines.

“I had a fun time with you today, Byulyi,” the young girl spoke lowly. Byul was confused as to why. There was no one in this part of the arcade.

“Me, too,” she smiled. While she had no idea why she was pulled here, her words were sincere. Tamika and the rest of Khadijah’s friends at the party took to her quickly, treating her like one of their own. It felt good that even away from home, she had an ever-growing network of people to spend her days with.

“That’s good. I’m glad you had fun,” Tamika smiled brightly. It was a pretty smile. Byulyi smiled back. “Anyway, you said you’re leaving in a couple of days, so I hope you fly safely and . . . if you come back next year, we should hang out again.”

“That would be nice. I’d like that.”

“Cool. Okay . . . that’s all I wanted to say,” the other girl laughed a bit.

“Oh. Okay.” Byulyi wasn’t sure why they needed privacy for that, but she didn’t mind. It got her a few extra moments at the party.

“Yeah. Anyway, bye!”

Moonbyul was in the middle of saying her own goodbye when she felt Tamika’s lips on hers. She’d kissed her. It was only a peck that lasted less than a second, but it was a kiss nonetheless.

Initially too stunned to say or do anything, Byulyi almost let Tamika get away, but came to her senses just in time.

“Wait!” She called after the fleeing girl, grabbing hold of her arm.

“You were supposed to let me leave,” Tamika stood embarrassed.

“Why?”

“Because now it’s weird.”

“It’s not. It’s fine,” Byulyi assured her. And with all the confidence she had in her, the young athlete reached in and pressed her lips to Tamika’s. There was nothing graceful about it, and she probably came in too hot and pushed against Tamika too forcefully, but she’d have plenty of time later to critique her performance. For now, all that mattered was that she’d decided in the few seconds after Tamika kissed her that she liked how it felt and wanted to do it again.

As with the first kiss, the second kiss was over almost as soon as it started, but that didn’t stop Byulyi from blushing or Tamika from coyly covering her face for a moment.

“We should hang out again next summer,” Moonbyul tried filling the stale silence.

“Yeah, we should.” If her darker complexion allowed for it, Byulyi figured Tamika would likely be blushing as hard as she was.

After a few more moments of silence, Byul spoke up again. “We should probably go now. I don’t want my cousin to get upset.”

“Yeah, you’re right. My dad’s probably here by now to pick me up. I need to get my things together.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, bye, Tamika.”

“Bye, Byulyi!”

She thought there’d be one last kiss—was hoping for another one, actually—but there wasn’t. Tamika ran off, and moments later, Byulyi followed in her footsteps. Bidding the remaining partygoers and the birthday girl goodbye, Moonbyul followed her cousin to the car. For the entire ride to her aunt and uncle’s home, she sat in the backseat with her right hand pressed to , sealing the kisses against the awed smile that stretched across her face.

She didn’t see Tamika that next summer. With things getting more serious in basketball for Byulyi, her father and uncle agreed that attending more prestigious basketball events was the only way to get her in front of the best scouts and against the best talent. Moonbyul spent the following summers in the United States traveling across the country with a top-level AAU* team, making pitstops along the way at some of the most renowned sleepaway basketball camps and tournaments. The new cities and states she visited didn’t have as prominent of a Korean community as the Bay Area, but they had lots of girls that, like Tamika, didn’t mind sneaking away when possible. Instead of Pop-A-Shot machines, the hotels and college dorms that Byulyi and her teammates stayed in became the new sites for surreptitious kisses and inexperienced touching. Thinking back on things, the senior smiled fondly as she remembered just how many girls there were. She didn’t have until her relationship with Goeun, but she did everything else with girls all across the United States. Summers abroad used to be among her favorite parts of the year.

Eleven years later, Tamika came to mind for two reasons. One, as with Tamika, Byulyi’s kisses just now with Yongsun were shamefully bad. She had an excuse then—it was her first time kissing someone else—but there was no excuse for the poor performance she put forth moments ago. Not even nerves justified her cracking under pressure as she did. The second reason Tamika flashed across her consciousness was that, just as she did after that kiss, Byul ambled down the hall with her right hand pressed against her lips.

She kissed Yongsun. And Yongsun kissed her back.

The giddiness beating against her stomach walls begged to be released but the athlete composed herself for the moment. There would be time later to fully process and celebrate what happened. For now, a small fist pump would have to suffice.

“Finally, this one decided to grace us with her presence.” Not even 20 seconds had elapsed since she entered the apartment before Heeyeon got on her .

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m not. You told us to be ready for 5:00 pm, yet here you are, the one that’s late.”

“But I’m here,” Byulyi purposely ignored Heeyeon’s indignation and plopped onto the living room couch. “That’s all that matters. Where’s Kisum?”

“Did I hear my name?” The younger athlete strolled from Byul’s bedroom at that moment.

“What were you doing in my room?”

“Using the bathroom,” Kisum replied as if it were the most obvious thing.

“Okay, but why? You could’ve used Heeyeon’s.”

“You weren’t here. If you didn’t want me to use your bathroom, you should’ve gotten here on time.”

“I’m only, like, 10 minutes late. You two are acting as if I got here an hour past time.”

“You’re late enough that we already ordered food,” Heeyeon rolled her eyes.

“Not even you and your dark-cloud energy can bring me down today, Heeyeon.”

“Ooooo, why are you so happy, unnie?”

For a split second, Moonbyul wondered if she should keep what happened between her and Yongsun between her and Yongsun. Heeyeon and Kisum knew about the museum visit that took place yesterday and would definitely pester her for details. Today’s event was simply an extension of the day before. It only made sense for her to tell them.

“I went to see Yongsun.”

“Silly me for thinking it was something special,” Kisum forced her way between the older women on the couch. “Not that Yongsun-unnie isn’t special, it’s just that I thought it was something out of the ordinary. You always go see her.”

“Out of the ordinary? You know better than that, Kisum. Our Byulyi is all about never-ending yearning and pining.” Heeyeon chimed in. All the while, the senior sat on the right end of the couch wearing a smug smirk.

“Never-ending yearning and pining,” she slowly repeated, her lips never faltering from their upturned position.

“Yes. Wheein, Hyejin, and I were even joking about locking you and unnie into a room together and not letting you out until one of you confesses. It was a joke, but with each day that passes, it’s looking like the way to go.”

“Don’t bother, I already took care of it,” Byulyi tried to shrug nonchalantly. In reality, her hands were still shaking slightly. The past two days’ events still felt surreal.

“Took care of what?!” Kisum asked suddenly, voice a higher pitch than usual.

“Yeah,” Heeyeon started, eyes fixed in a skeptical squint, “took care of what?” Although more composed than the youngest in the room, Moonbyul could sense her disbelief.

“Took care of the confession. I confessed.”

The stunned silence stretched long enough that Byulyi assumed it was the only reaction she’d get. Disappointing, really.

“Get the out!” Heeyeon bellowed. “You’re lying. You’re ing lying,” Byulyi watched her roommate shake her head endlessly.

“She has to be lying,” a wary smile slowly crept across Kisum’s face. “Look at how you’re smirking! You’re lying. She’s trolling us, unnie.”

“Byulyi, tell us the truth. Stop playing.”

“I’m not playing. I swear on my basketball career.” She held Heeyeon’s gaze for several seconds, determined to convey through her stare the extent of her truthtelling. Not even Kisum comically swiveling her head back and forth between the two was enough to throw Byulyi off.

The graduate student must have seen Byulyi’s seriousness because her steely gaze gradually softened.

“Start talking. Do not leave out any details,” Heeyeon commanded.

Who was Byulyi to disappoint? She told them everything, pausing only when the delivery person called to announce he was downstairs. Her roommate sprint-walked to retrieve the food, haphazardly dropping the bags onto the kitchen island before situating herself on the couch once again.

“Okay, so the two of you went out, had a disgustingly cute time, went back to her place and she gave you your gift. Go on.” Kisum, who had been silent the entire time despite hanging open, remained so, but nodded at Heeyeon’s words, offering her muted agreement.

“It was this bracelet, actually,” the athlete proudly jutted her right arm out, the bracelet on full display. When Byulyi left Yongsun’s apartment to change into nightclothes after their day out, she took some time to put the bracelet on. She doubted she’d be taking it off any time soon, if at all. “She gave it to me and the moment was . . . unreal. Can’t even explain all the emotions that I felt. She was standing there barefaced, wearing my sweatshirt, cute as hell. She looked so ing beautiful. And this was after the long day we had where she was bending over backward to make sure I had a good time. Then I look at the gift and it’s this really nice bracelet that she clearly put a lot of thought into. And then she asked me, all shy and unsure, if we could order my favorite food and hang out.”

“Aww, that’s actually really cute,” Kisum admitted.

“I was about to kiss her. I was going to kiss her right then and there. You don’t even understand. But I pushed that aside and went to change. We spent the rest of the night together.”

“Yes, you completely ignored all messages and phone calls.”

“I already apologized for that,” Byulyi rolled her eyes. Filling Kisum in, she explained, “Heeyeon texted to ask if I wanted to close out my birthday eating ice cream and watching basketball. I didn’t answer until the next morning because I didn’t see the messages.”

“Because you were cozied up with Yongsun-unnie.”

“Yes! I was! And it felt great! Am I supposed to lie about that?”

The three laughed heartily at how quickly and adamantly Byulyi copped to that.

“Getting back on track, why didn’t you kiss her yesterday?”

“Because then she started talking about plans for next year and was asking a ton of questions about me going pro, and I already told you both about her ‘rules’ for the day.”

“You are so ing whipped,” Heeyeon snickered.

“Whatever. I could’ve still kissed her, but it would’ve felt wrong. I didn’t want to make a move or anything like that when I was keeping something so important a secret. And if I said anything about Turkey, it would have ruined the day. So I decided to just enjoy the moment.”

“Fast forward to today,” her roommate impatiently sped things along.

“Today, as you both know, I met with KB Stars. It was a good meeting but the talk with the coach from Fenerbahçe felt better. It felt right. Fenerbahçe feels right. She was the first person I went to see after the meeting with KB Stars. It felt wrong not telling her about the update with Fenerbahçe, so I had to do that. Went over there, told her everything, and she broke down.”

“Oh no. Poor unnie,” Kisum sulked.

“I’d never seen Yongsun cry like that. It hurt my heart to see her bawling like that, and it hurt more knowing that there was nothing I could do about it. I even softened the blow. Told her it was ‘very likely’ I was leaving.”

“How likely is it that you’re leaving?” Heeyeon wanted direct answers.

“It’s 95% likely that I’m leaving. Nothing’s set in stone until I sign, and I can’t do that until our season’s over, so anything could happen between then and now, but I want to go to Turkey. I think I need to.”

“.”

“Yeah.” Telling the story now, the athlete was forced to contend with the less stellar parts of things. She had feelings for Yongsun, but in order to grow as a professional, Moonbyul felt it necessary to challenge herself. Fenerbahçe would do just that.

“How did things go from unnie crying her eyes out to you confessing?”

“She started this whole spiel about how Turkey would be best for me and how there’s nothing that South Korea has to offer me. All this mess. She wouldn’t stop talking, babbling complete nonsense. Mind you, she’s still a mess. Trying and failing to keep herself together while she’s saying all of this. I was pretty sure she was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince me. Still, I don’t know what took over me, but I just kissed her. Just like that. She just kept saying that there was nothing for me here and I’m sitting there, listening to the most important person in my life ramble on and on about how I should go because I’m ‘too big’ for Korea.”

“Most important person,” Heeyeon mumbled. “We’re sitting right here.”

“You know what I mean though. She’s, like, my girl. That’s my person. My go-to.”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. You’re in love, blah, blah, blah.”

It was an offhand comment, Heeyeon’s typical sarcasm, but the statement made her think. Was she in love? She loved Yongsun, yes. She loved all of her friends. But being in love was something else entirely. Byulyi mulled the words over, a bit frightened at the fact that the more she did so, the less far-fetched of a possibility it sounded to her. She liked Yongsun a lot, that much she knew. But how much until “a lot” teetered into “in love”? That the athlete did not know.

“What did she do?” The eager words flying from Kisum’s lips drew Byulyi back to the moment. “When you kissed her?”

“Which time?” The athlete joked. “We kissed a few different times. I was absolute at it. It was so bad. She even tried to calm me down, and in response, I told her that I was nervous because I’d liked her for a year.”

“Oh my gosh,” Heeyeon facepalmed in disappointment.

“It was bad, Yeonie.”

“It sounds bad.”

“Unnie! You’ve kissed a ton of girls before. What the hell?”

“I don’t know! I was so nervous. I was sure about the first kiss and then I opened my eyes and realized I had to say or do something. Was not prepared for that,” Byulyi sank into her seat.

“What did she say when you two talked about it?”

“We didn’t,” she raked her hands down her face.

“Byul, you’re an idiot. I don’t even want to hear the rest of this.”

“We promised we’d talk after the break though!”

“After the break?! Unnie, you can’t be serious.”

“She’s an idiot, Kisum.”

“What?! It was either we kiss some more or we talk. Forgive me for wanting to do more kissing instead of having a serious conversation right away. It’s not like she’s going to run away. We have to talk about it, and we will.”

“You seriously see nothing wrong with confessing to your best friend, kissing her, and then waiting weeks to discuss it?”

“It’s not ideal but it’s not the worst thing ever. We’ll still talk over break and I think the time will help us both formulate our thoughts. It’ll be fine.”

“I agree with her, unnie,” Kisum sided with Byulyi.

“Because you’re also an idiot.”

“Wait, how are the only two people in this room with romantic prospects the idiots? Please explain that, Heeyeon.”

“Kisum is in a relationship with someone that clearly doesn’t mind the idiocy. And from everything you’ve said, Yongsun-unnie never confessed back, so you may want to tone down the bragging and not get ahead of yourself. When the two of you settle things, I’ll be one of the first to congratulate you, but it sounds like there’s still a ways to go.”

One could always count on Heeyeon to rain on a parade. The graduate student hadn’t lied. Yongsun didn’t confess back, not out loud, at least. But Byulyi knew her. Yongsun wouldn’t do something like kiss her back without having thought it through. For the older woman to do that, she had to have feelings for Byulyi. Had to.

Heeyeon and Kisum were bickering over whether or not the former was a “hater”—her comment about Kisum being an idiot obviously struck a nerve—, but with the wind slightly knocked out of her sails, Moonbyul decided to not join in on the jokes.

Yongsun liked her. Right? They didn’t have to date right away. Byulyi’d be fine with that as long as she could confirm that Yongsun had feelings for her. If that were the case, she was sure they could figure things out from there.

Almost as if hypnotizing herself, the senior nodded her head resolutely before leaving her friends to continue their pointless back-and-forth and heading to the kitchen to finally make a plate for herself.

She kissed Yongsun. Yongsun kissed her back. The kisses weren’t her best work, but she’d do better next time. Because there would be a next time. There had to be. There would be.

*

_{4,012 likes}

byulyi Sorry for not responding sooner to all the birthday messages. I was taming dragons 🐉. Thank you, everyone! #23

^{View all 2,863 comments}

ghostacct You are d finest woman in the world.

akdhs847 So cute and handsome at the same time. How?!

odj503 Happy birthday 🙈

The comments on her social media posts were always entertaining. While the strangers and trolls camping underneath every post of hers were jarring at first, Moonbyul came to view the cesspool of comments favorably. She didn’t know most of these people but their clever quips and comically uncontrollable lusting always had Byulyi walking away from her social media accounts feeling significantly better about herself than when first swiping into her phone. She needed a mood boost today. Big time. Hence the picture she posted.

It was innocuous, not a “thirst trap” as Heeyeon or Hyejin or Kisum often called most of her uploads—a picture from the day spent with Yongsun. It felt like forever ago but only 4 days had passed since their excursion to the Trick Eye Museum. In the photo, Byulyi sat on a dragon’s “tail”, a bright smile on her face as she gave a thumb’s up to the camera, ignoring altogether the large, raging, scaled beast painted on the wall beside her. Emerging from angry sea waters, the fictitious dragon reared its sharp teeth, mouth stretched open to its limit as the beast roared angrily in Byul’s direction. She only did it to make Yongsun laugh, and Yongsun laughed a lot while snapping that picture. A wistful smile spread across the young woman’s face at the memory. Better times.

Yongsun was obviously avoiding her. Not avoiding avoiding, but the responses to messages were arriving slower than usual. After the confession, both women left SNU the following day to spend part of their winter break with family. It was possible that Yongsun got pulled into family things, resulting in less free time to respond to the silly memes Byulyi sent her, but they’d made time to talk on the phone a few times and, even then, things felt off. At any given moment, their tiptoeing around the elephant in the room would transform the free-flowing conversation into stagnant silence that only grew more and more awkward and uncomfortable. Byulyi hated it. It wasn’t them, but she was doing her best to give Yongsun the time needed to process everything—it was how the graduate student best operated. She needed time and space to handle things that she found overwhelming, and with the way she was behaving with Moonbyul, it was clear that she found their current situation to be exactly that.

Feeling the vibrations rippling across her mattress, Byulyi rolled onto her side and retrieved her cell phone. More hijinks from Instagram she was sure.

Checking who the latest comments came from, the athlete groaned. They had to have planned it:

heeyeon Is there a hidden meaning behind this?

          |kisum @heeyeon Ohhhh.

          |wheein @heeyeon Hidden meaning? 👁️

hyejin Who took the picture, unnie?

          |sandeul @hyejin Good question!

          |byulyi @hyejin A dragon 😎

          |hyejin @yongsun Unnie, you took this?

          |wheein @hyejin 😂

On and on the ridicule continued. Wheein and Hyejin didn’t yet know about what happened with Yongsun, but that clearly didn’t deter them from poking fun at her. Thankfully, Byulyi’s parents called her downstairs for dinner. The athlete couldn’t be happier for the distraction, leaving the not-so-subtle jokes to pile up in silence as her phone lay forgotten in her bedroom.

*

On Saturday, Byulyi was comfortable with giving Yongsun space and time. She was fine waiting until they both returned to SNU after the break. And then two more days of snail-like responses from Yongsun grated on her patience.

If they waited for the next week to pass before having a real conversation about the state of things between them, it would do more harm than good. Time would only allow the buried conversation to fester. Again, Byulyi knew Yongsun and knew that avoidance was her go-to coping mechanism when faced with stressful situations. That, coupled with the graduate student’s need for time to get her bearings, meant that if the athlete left it up to Yongsun, they’d discuss the confession and their kisses months down the line. It needed to happen sooner. Byulyi recognized that she needed to be the one to initiate the conversation. Ugh.

Maybe it was the endorphins, but after completing her workout at the local gym, the athlete’s body rejected the idea of returning to her parents’ home. The sky above was devoid of clouds, the crisp December air perfectly complementing the radiant sun above. It was peaceful. It was comfortable. It was a beautiful day, and it would be a shame to waste one of those stuck inside.

Standing next to the driver’s door, the brunette closed her eyes, making the most of having nowhere to be as she took several deep breaths through her nose. Each exhale expelled gusts of stress and apprehension, leaving behind a much-needed calm that steadily seized Byulyi’s body. Enjoying a rare clearheadedness, she honored the one thought played on a loop in her head—she wanted to see Yongsun. So that’s exactly what she set out to do.

The drive to the graduate student’s home wasn’t long at all. With the dearth of vehicles on the roads, Moonbyul’s drive from Bucheon to Seoul only took a quarter of an hour.

Slotting into a parking spot across the street, Byul put her vehicle in park and removed her cell phone from its mounted position on the dashboard. The phone rang for a few seconds before the lady of the hour’s face filled the screen. Literally filled the screen.

“Why is the camera so close to your face? Fix it.”

“You call me and the first thing you do is boss me around?” Yongsun finally adjusted the view.

“That’s better!”

“Why are you video calling me so suddenly?”

“Because you don’t answer your messages.”

“I do,” the older woman tried to sound convincing.

“Not quickly enough for my liking. What are you up to?”

“Nothing. You?”

“Went to the gym this morning.”

“As usual,” Yongsun knowingly acknowledged.

“Yeah. It is so weird having to carry my own workout gear around. I almost left home today without my gym sneakers. I’m so accustomed to everything being at the facility already.”

“Spoiled princess treatment.”

Ignoring the sass, Byulyi got to the crux of things. “Speaking of princesses, what are your plans for the day?”

“I’m supposed to video call with Wheein later, but that’s it.”

“Good!”

“Why good?”

“Because I’m outside. Put clothes on. Let’s go for a drive.”

“I should’ve known you’d do something like that.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” Byulyi chuckled. “Hurry up.”

“Fine,” Yongsun kissed her teeth and disconnected the call.

Yongsun would start off pissy, but Byulyi knew the older woman would quickly get over it. They didn’t go for drives often, but the graduate student enjoyed it each time they did.

While waiting, Byulyi cycled through the slew of games on her cell phone that she neglected earlier in the morning. Ten minutes—or 1 extreme-difficulty game of sudoku—later, Yongsun unceremoniously rattled the door open and settled into her seat.

“You look ridiculous,” the athlete snorted. Between the mismatched socks poking out from her Crocs and the oversized sweatshirt Yongsun was swimming in, it was impossible to miss that the outfit was haphazardly thrown together. Dropping her phone into the cupholder, Byulyi woke the car up and put it into drive. “Put on your seatbelt.”

“You told me to hurry up. This is a ‘hurry up!’ outfit. Where are we going?”

“I don’t know. Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll just drive around and take random turns until we find somewhere to stop. How about that?”

“That works,” Yongsun agreed.

Chancing a quick glance to her right, Moonbyul observed the blonde’s taut jaw. She was tense.

“Yong, put on some music. You always play good songs.”

“You make fun of me all the time for the songs I play.” Despite her protest, Yongsun still reached for Byulyi’s cell phone, making quick work of the lock code and scrolling through her options.

“I just do that to bug you. I always add your songs to my library afterward,” she coolly admitted while turning left into a dead-end street.

“If you were a normal person, you’d tell me which of the songs you liked so that I could add them right away for you.”

“Hmm,” the younger woman eyed both sides of the road for parking, “things didn’t go so well the last time I admitted to liking something.” Eyeing a space, Moonbyul stealthily occupied the spot and cut the engine but allowed the music Yongsun selected to continue playing in the background at a lower level. Turning to finally fully meet Yongsun’s eyes, she spoke again. “Ready to talk?”

“I thought we were waiting for after break?”

“I made the executive decision that we need to get it over with sooner rather than later. Things have been weird between us. I don’t like that. We’re not good when we’re weird.”

“Yeah. I don’t like it either,” the smaller woman softly shared, eyes trained on the busy movement of her hands in her lap.

“Yeah,” Byulyi sighed. Figuring they needed to warm up to the conversation some more, the athlete slightly shifted the direction of things. “I told my parents about my decision yesterday.”

Yongsun’s ears and energy perked up at that. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“So the decision has been made.”

“For the most part.”

“Stop talking like that,” the graduate student raised her voice. “You keep hedging around it. If you’re leaving then say that. Be clear about what’s happening. You keep talking as if I know what’s going on and I don’t.”

Clarity. Yongsun wanted clarity, Byulyi realized.

“I’m leaving, yeah.”

It was the first time she’d spoken that absolutely on the matter. Prior to this conversation, Moonbyul informed those that needed to know that it was “very likely” she was leaving. Given the nature of things, there was an element of uncertainty. As she couldn’t sign anything for a few more months, the chances of another team swooping in at the last moment and catching Byulyi’s eye existed—they were slim, but they were there. The weight of her words uttered only moments ago started sinking in, began fully resonating with her. Maybe Yongsun wasn’t the only one avoiding things.

Maybe the reality of her situation was what Moonbyul had hoped to keep at bay with her hemming and hawing. She was leaving. It was real. And she had to contend with all that came with that.

“Okay. You’re leaving. It’s official.”

“Yeah,” the athlete gulped. The finality of those words tasted bitter on her tongue.

“How did your parents take it?”

“My mom took it surprisingly well. She was so excited. It’s like she can’t wait for me to leave or something,” the mental image of the meeting with her mother’s reaction made her smile fondly.

“I’m sure no one wants you to leave. She’s probably just proud. When it comes time for you to actually go, though, she’ll be a mess.”

“Probably.”

Byulyi’s head swam with new thoughts of what the future held and looked like. “Swam” made it sound like an enjoyable process. In actuality, the senior was drowning suddenly. She was leaving her home.

“How are you feeling about it?” Yongsun’s voice became a magnet for Moonbyul’s attention, pulling the athlete’s gaze from the steering wheel it had been trained on.

“It’s weird. That was the first time I said it that directly. I’m leaving. It sounds weird. I haven’t even thought about how it makes me feel because it only just became real.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yeah. There’s a bit of time for me to come to terms with everything. If I had to guess, I wouldn’t fly out until late-August or early-September. That’s, like, 8 or 9 months. Lots of time.”

“Lots of time,” Yongsun drawled below her breath.

“How are you feeling about it?” Byulyi decided to flip the tables.

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah, that’s why I asked,” the senior held Yongsun’s gaze.

“It’s a lot,” the blonde shrugged.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I dumped a lot on you, and I keep adding more. The more I talk, the weirder things get between us.”

“Things aren’t that weird between us.”

“I told you I was leaving the country to play professional basketball, then I kissed you, then I confessed to having feelings for you.”

“Okay, yeah, you have a point,” the older woman giggled heartily, Byulyi joining her. For the first time that morning, the air around them didn’t feel as suffocating. “You shouldn’t have to apologize for being honest about how you feel though.”

“I guess. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable.”

“You’ve been acting like you’re uncomfortable. All of our conversations since then have been off.”

“I just don’t know what to do or say, Byul-ah. I don’t know what’s next. And not even only with you, with life, in general. There’s too much happening and I don’t know where to start.”

The senior sat back in her seat, taking in how frantic with worry Yongsun sounded. The older woman desperately needed someone to talk to, that much was clear, and Byulyi hated that her best friend never considered opening up to her.

“If there’s that much going on, why haven’t you talked to me about it, Yong? This isn’t a one-way friendship. It shouldn’t be only me sharing my worries. The same way you’re here for me, I’m here for you. I’ve told you that before.”

“You have big things going on, Byul. Listening to me stress about finding an apartment is beneath you.”

“That’s bull. If it’s affecting you, then it’s just as important as anything else and I want to hear about it.” Reigning in her frustration, the athlete softened her tone. “Come here,” Moonbyul reached out for Yongsun, pulling her across the center console and into her lap. “You can’t keep all that stuff to yourself. It’s not good for you.”

“I know,” the graduate student spoke into Byulyi’s chest.

“Then why do you keep doing it?”

“Because I don’t know what I’m doing. All of this is new to me.”

“So tell me about what’s going on.”

“Now?” Yongsun lifted her head from Moonbyul’s chest.

“Yes, now. You don’t have anything else to do today.”

“I have my call with Wheein.”

“That’s much later. We have time. Talk to me. I need to know what’s going on with my Yongsun.”

For the next four hours, they sat in the reclined driver’s seat of Byulyi’s car, Yongsun finally unleashing all she’d been harboring within—stress related to academics, fears around employment, not wanting to disappoint her family, she shared it all. Byulyi listened attentively, prodding and challenging her to go deeper and say more whenever necessary. The conversation, she’d say, was productive.

“I’m not going to have anything to vent to Wheein about now,” the older woman joked, still resting comfortably against Moonbyul’s chest.

“I’m sure you’ll find something.”

“Maybe.”

In all her stream of consciousness, Yongsun never once mentioned romantic relationships. That was one glaring omission, but Byulyi didn’t want to push, so she let it go. Catching sight of the time on her car’s dashboard, though, Byul realized she’d have to drop Yongsun back home soon and she’d be doing them both a great disservice if they didn’t address the shifting dynamic between them.

“You know we can’t leave without talking about what happened, right?” She started, arms wrapped securely against the woman on top of her.

“I was hoping we could.”

“Yongsun . . .”

“I know, I know,” she sighed in defeat.

“You can be honest with me. Even if I won’t like the answer.”

“I know.”

“You can be honest honest.”

“Okay.”

“Do you have feelings for me? I know we kissed, but you never actually said how you felt, so I just wanted to know.”

Her heart rate increased with each of those words, climbing to a rapid thumping against Yongsun’s cheek.

Feeling the movement of Yongsun’s head, Byulyi refused to look down but let out the breath she’d intentionally been holding in when Yongsun finally spoke up moments later.

“Yes.”

“Yes?!”

“You’re so annoying!”

“I just want to be sure, because it sounded like you said ‘yes’, so I wanted to make sure that you said ‘yes’ because I heard ‘yes’.”

“Oh my gosh!”

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop teasing you,” Byulyi pressed a tender kiss to the top of Yongsun’s head.

“I’m not ready for anything though.”

“And I’m not trying to pressure you into anything.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it. We don’t have to rush.” In Byul’s mind, they didn’t have 8 or 9 months left, they had as long as they’d need or want.

“Okay.”

“I should get you back home.”

After helping Yongsun resituate herself in the passenger’s seat, the athlete got them back on the road and in front of the blonde’s home in no time.

“Thank you for coming over today.”

“You’re welcome. It was necessary. We needed to get back to being us.”

“I’m sorry for being distant.”

“It was only because you like me so much,” Byulyi wagged her eyebrows. Calling it a relief that they were able to joke about this now was an understatement.

“I was being serious.”

“And I was trying to lighten the mood. In the spirit of being serious, though, let’s just keep being us, okay? Please? We can figure everything else out as we go, but let’s stay us. . . . with maybe more kissing.”

“That’s my cue to leave.”

“No kiss? I have to redeem myself.”

“On the cheek.”

“A peck on the lips.”

“A kiss on the cheek.”

“Fine,” Moonbyul conceded, allowing Yongsun to do her do.

“Bye, Byul-ah. Thank you for getting me out of my head today,” Yongsun unhooked her seatbelt and exited the car.

“Text me later, okay?” The athlete shouted out her window.

“Will do,” Yongsun’s voice carried.

Once Yongsun made it safely into her house, Byulyi sped off, internally buzzing throughout the entire ride.

She and Yongsun were nowhere near being in the clear, and there were several other large life decisions to be properly fleshed out, but this was a promising start.

Note: It’s Monday somewhere. It’s also Tuesday in other places. Yay to both days.

*AAU: Amateur Athletic Union, an amateur sports organization. AAU supports and promotes many sports for amateurs (aka non-professionals), including basketball. Essentially, there are club basketball teams all across the USA and they follow rules set out by the AAU. AAU teams—usually for young children up to age 18 or so—travel all over and compete against each other in tournaments. As with any sporting organizations, there are teams known to be more elite/competitive than others. Athletes with hopes of playing in college/university try to play for the best AAU teams to be seen by the best coaches/scouts.

ETA: Removed the spiel about posting delay notices by a certain time because everyone told me they didn't need or want it. If y'all don't need it, I don't need it.