Everyone called Jung Wheein an old soul. The term applied, it did. Within her tiny body lived an indescribable appreciation for the beauty of — and history behind — anachronisms. Trinkets, fashion, paintings and drawings, music . . . anything, really. If from a previous time, it became the subject of Wheein’s fondness. A position many humans wouldn’t mind being in.

Maybe it was the artist in her that explained the connectedness felt to earlier times. Maybe it was the other way around: the connection to earlier times leading her to art, fueling the desire within to learn all she could about the past to make possible the fusing of the “then” with the “now”.

Especially music. For whatever reason, the sounds of times and worlds both foreign and familiar to her resonated with Wheein most significantly. Music comforted and calmed her during the most challenging of times, always available to keep Wheein company when called upon, a decade and genre for every which moment. Without a word uttered, music understood what she needed and set the mood just right, allowing her to tap into the thoughts and feelings and words and possibilities constantly churning within her mind.

Hmm . . . maybe Hyejin was music, too. Their relationship was the same.

Of course, this wasn’t the point.

Wheein was an old soul. While simultaneously bursting at the brim with the passion, energy, and brash optimism of youth. An oxymoron. It seemed. Watching Jung Wheein in action, though — as Yongsun currently did — it made all the sense in the world.

A black hoodie at least two sizes too big consumed the younger girl’s upper body, stopping halfway past her thighs, blending almost seamlessly with the black sweatpants that did the same for her legs. It was adorable, really, watching Wheein work. She only ever tore concentration from the board in front of her to scrunch the sleeves of her sweater above her elbows when the material would mischievously and — judging from the annoyed sighs Wheein let out each time — frustratingly spill past her hands, interrupting the otherwise smooth creative process occurring. In response to the exasperated grunt the third-year let out, a crass, semi-garbled snicker reflexively escaped Yongsun’s throat.

“What’s so funny?” Wheein asked harshly, remnants of annoyance at the losing battle being fought with her sweatshirt lingering.

“You and your sleeves,” Yongsun answered. Honesty was usually the best policy. “Just fold them,” she smiled, training her eyes, once again, on the laptop screen in front of her.

“I don’t wanna,” the younger huffed. The brush in hand flopped about, no say in the matter as it was unceremoniously waved in every which direction.

“Why are you so cute, Wheein-ah?” The small smile and affectionate tone, while unintentional, tempered the flickers of fury growing within the darker-haired girl. Before it saw its full potential, the frustration transformed into gentle chuckles.

“I’m losing it, unnie.”

“We can tell.”

“I’m serious! Not even sure why I’m stressing out over something so small.”

“Maybe it’s your way of making sure you don’t stress over the big things.”

“None of that,” she picked up a second brush to form an ‘x’. “I’m the wise one today, thank you very much.”

“You’re the wise one every day,” Yongsun absentmindedly assured her, hastily typing out a sentence her brain had belatedly formulated. She needed it six minutes ago when focusing her weight’s worth of energy on translating frantic hand gestures into words that conveyed why she’d be a “great fit” for this job being advertised.

“I know, just wanted to hear you say it.” Smirking playfully, the Fine Arts student took a few moments to resume where she left off in her work before checking in with her equally-overwhelmed-but-more-stubborn older friend. “How are things going with you?”

“Just dandy.” Although she smiled brightly, the words dripped with sarcasm. Yongsun turned her computer around, showcasing the lone paragraph completed.

“It’s been two hours, unnie!”

“Thank you, Wheein. I hadn’t realized,” she deadpanned.

“I’m just saying,” Wheein raised her palms defensively.

“It’s your fault. The music is too distracting, the lights are too soft, and the room is too comfortable! I can’t get work done when I’d rather spread out on the couch over there and watch you paint instead.”

“Finish an application and meet the other terms we set, then you can spread out and watch me paint for as long as you’d like,” she turned to re-up on white and purple paint.

“That’s so much!” A futile argument, but, at this point, Yongsun’d take any distraction over completing the cursed cover letter assigned to her.

“You agreed to it. Get back to work. I’m not going to let you waste more time. You’re not as slick as you think you are, unnie.” The words were firm yet patient, similar to a parent gently scolding a young child.

But Wheein wasn’t lying. Yongsun did agree to the day’s terms. In her defense, it didn’t seem as troublesome when first assigned to her. She even remembered having the nerve to feel slightly disrespected at how low the bar was being set.

An hour or two after her excursion around the neighborhood with Byulyi, Yongsun stuck to her word and video called Wheein. Originally intending to spend only a few minutes on her problems before demanding that Wheein take over talking duties, the now-brown-haired artist insisted they dive deeper.

“When’d you change your hair?”

“Last week. The bob was growing out and I didn’t like how the black looked with it.”

“What are you talking about? It looked great on you?” Yongsun settled into her bed’s sheets, out of breath from the trek up the one flight of stairs.

“The black or the bob?”

“Both. Long hair with black would’ve looked good.”

“Then I’ll just dye it black,” Wheein shrugged.

“You’re not afraid of doing damage to your hair with all that dyeing?!” Living as an unnatural blonde, Yongsun quickly learned of the horrors that came with that lifestyle. Truthfully, halfway through the semester, she’d nearly given up on maintaining her hair color altogether—it was too much. Money, time, care, all of the above. Being blonde was a chore. Nothing but pure stubbornness convinced her to stick it out. Until at least the semester’s end.

Semester’s end came and went. She was still blonde. Something else to add to the list of things to take care of.

“Says the blonde.”

“Doesn’t that make me most qualified to lecture others on the perils of excessive dyeing?”

“Perhaps,” Wheein relented. “How much longer are you thinking of keeping that color?”

“Who knows.”

“Well, you should know. No?”

“Plenty of things I should know about that I don’t,” Yongsun groaned.

“That sounds yummy. Say more, sis.”

“Funny enough, I just said it all to Byulyi a little earlier. We drove around—well, she drove around—found somewhere to park, and talked for hours about what’s been on my mind. I’m tapped out.” On cue, a violent yawn leapt out.

“Sounds intimate, sis.”

“What’s with this ‘sis’ business?”

“Sorry, too much social media over vacation. I talk in memes now. Kind of gross, honestly.”

“As long as you know,” Yongsun mumbled.

“Ignoring that as hard as you ignored the comment about intimacy with Byul-unnie.”

The hesitation was enough for Wheein to know something was amiss.

“Uh oh.”

“There’s nothing to ‘uh-oh’ about.”

“You froze up. That means something happened.” Pokes and prods from Wheein never felt intrusive. It was a skill, how delicately she managed to toe the line between demanding answers and not being overbearing. Talented, that one.

Yongsun wasn’t prepared to share all of the Byulyi-situation today, though. The original plan had been to maybe tell people after she and the athlete discussed it themselves. That was supposed to take place after their school break. Instead, Moonbyul pulled up on her unexpectedly today and charmed her way into the very conversation Yongsun wanted to avoid.

With everything now on the table between her and Moonbyul, it felt okay to mention it to Wheein. Intentionally skipping over what happened would be wrong, no matter how appealing an option it appeared. Conversation fresh, and the kiss(es) only one week old, now was as good a time as ever.

Drawing in a dramatic, deep breath, the graduate student let it out. “Byulyi confessed.”

Gauging Wheein’s reaction for a few seconds, Yongsun found the eventual response rather underwhelming.

“Is that all?”

“I mean, no, we talked about other stuff, too, but that was the biggest piece of news,” she grew defensive. Even if it were all, Yongsun found the event worthy of much more fanfare.

Biting her lip, Wheein looked almost apologetic. “Not to seem rude or anything, but I already knew that she liked you, unnie.”

“You knew?” This was news to her.

“Yeah, everyone did. It was obvious.”

“Not to me. Obviously.”

“Really? We all thought you were playing dumb.”

“Nope. Guess I’m just actually dumb,” Yongsun smiled wryly, lips pulled tight.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“Me, Hyejin Heeyeon-unnie. Probably everyone else, too,” Wheein shrugged nonchalantly as if it were normal so many people were invested in a relationship they weren’t in themselves. Their close friends, sure, that made sense. But this “everyone else” . . . she wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. Additionally, why would she have known about Moonbyul’s feelings, yet carry on as she did? Hugging and kissing and touchin–

As quickly as that train of thought came to mind, Yongsun shut it down, guilt creeping up her neck, and threatening to show itself on her face. While it was true that she hadn’t known for certain about her best friend’s feelings for her, the graduate student could not declare as strongly as she would have liked that she’d never carry on recklessly with someone whose feelings she was aware of. Wasn’t that what she’d been doing with Seungyeon? Proceeding as if the feelings professed weren’t an issue? That’s what they agreed on, no? Seungyeon said it was fine, Yongsun putting forth the weakest of challenges before acquiescing and agreeing that, yes, it was fine. Continuing a friends-with-benefits, no strings attached relationship where one person had deeper feelings and the other dilly-dallied her way through things, they concluded, made sense.

Growth comes through being brutally honest with one’s self while being equally as forgiving and nonjudgmental. Mistakes don’t automatically make someone a bad person, but coming to this harsh realization about the status of things between her and Seungyeon, Yongsun didn’t particularly feel like a good person either.

“You said there was more,” Wheein pulled Yongsun from her daze. “What else happened?”

And so, Yongsun told her. About Moonbyul’s birthday, the fuzziness afterward, her own confession. About concerns over employment and worries over not living up to expectations that she said her family had of her when, in reality, they were figments of her imagination. Arbitrary markers of success that dictated her every move and that she assumed others—family, friends, professors—held her to.

“Well . . .  that does sound like a lot. The confession part, though, . . . that sounds about right,” Wheein laughed out loud upon hearing it all. “Appropriately melodramatic.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Listen, I love you and Byulyi-unnie dearly, but you guys are unbearable sometimes. The two of you make things so dramatic for no reason.” Wheein’s phone had moments ago been balanced on the desk in her room, the younger girl disappearing from view for a few moments, and her response distant.

“You can’t walk away right after saying something like that.”

A few moments later, Wheein appeared in view again, plopping into her desk chair and adjusting the lighting. “Did I lie?”

She, in fact, did not lie. Yongsun sighed in defeat.

“Happy that the two of you are finally on the same page, though.”

“To an extent.”

“Sounds like more drama coming. I’ll let you work through that some more.” Wheein sensed the hesitation and didn’t want to push when what Yongsun was only prepared for was a pivot. “What about the other things? The apartment and job and whatnot. What’s the action plan?”

Action plan. Yeah, she did not have one of those.

“Unnie, you said the two of you spent hours talking all of that through and an action plan was never decided on? No next steps?”

“It was more so me venting and Byulyi nodding, holding me and asking clarifying questions here and there.”

“Ugh,” the third-year gagged. “She’s so soft with you. It’s cute but it’s also kind of gross. You need a plan. Traction. Movement. Getting the frustration out is necessary, a good first step. BUT. And I mean but, there has to be action, otherwise, you’ll stay where you are—frustrated. And you’ll probably grow more frustrated because you’ll be in the same situation with nothing changing.”

“I wish I could be as put-together as you,” Yongsun sighed.

“Far from it. I’m ready to pull my hair out.”

Racking her brain, Yongsun thought through previous conversations she’d had with Wheein. Yes, some larger concerns had occupied her mind, but it wasn’t possible that she’d been that negligent of a friend, right? If Wheein had mentioned something distressing, she would have remembered. Right?

“Calm down. You didn’t forget anything,” the brunette playfully rolled her eyes. “I can read the panic written on your face. It’s a recent development. Got word from the Department Head that I’ve been tapped for the senior exhibition that happens at the start of each school year.”

“Wheein-ah! My baby’s talent is being recognized! Why are you stressed about it? That sounds amazing!”

It sounded like everything someone artistically-inclined would want.

Until Wheein went in-depth into about things.

The exhibit was in September, nine months away, but Wheein and her advisor would need to agree on a theme by the end of January. Following that, there would be monthly evaluations on her progress until June when the complete portfolio would be submitted for review and approval, leaving July and August to make any necessary alterations. In actuality, it was six months to conceive of a concept and create a complete portfolio.

“Damn.”

“Exactly,” Wheein moaned, head thrown into her hands. “But!” She suddenly sprung up, “I have a plan! Created a loose timeline that details when, ideally, each part of the process should be completed. Part of that plan included emailing my advisor throughout the break, so we’re pretty close to piecing a concept together! Ahead of schedule.”

“Of course.” Even when she didn’t have it together, Wheein had it together.

“There’s bound to be a few weeks where the mere sight of canvases and brushes and paint makes me sick. Had to strike while hot. We get back to campus next Tuesday and I’ll be holed up in my dorm room painting all day next Wednesday. You should join me! We can both get some work done and hold each other accountable. We’ll be accountabili-buddies! It’ll be fun because you’ll buy food and drinks!”

“How did I know there’d be a catch?”

“What catch? Being productive is impossible to do on an empty stomach. I’m providing the space and the ambiance. A fair tradeoff.”

“Impressed with your innate ability to con free food out of people.”

“And drinks!”

“A scammer,” Yongsun smiled. Wheein was a character.

“A creative.”

“Mmhmm. Call it whatever you want. But fine, I’ll be there.” Avoiding this work date was impossible. Having spent more time today dredging up all that she had to contend with, backing out of a chance to make a dent in all that ailed her wouldn’t look great. She’d been doing a lot of talking. Wheein was right, it was time to do something about it.

“Yay! Let’s set some goals,” the younger of the two chirped, menacingly rubbing her hands together.

That’s how Yongsun found herself on Wednesday afternoon in Wheein and Hyejin’s shared SNU dorm room. It was a cute space. Very them. The apartment was about half the size of a University Village apartment—one room serving as a living room-kitchen, a shared bathroom, and one bedroom that the two shared—but there was character. It felt like home. Photographs of the two, from childhood to now, adorned the small wooden table in the corner that also served as storage space, an eating table, and a plant holder. Plants were a must for Hyejin. “It’s organized clutter” Wheein insisted the first time Yongsun visited earlier in the school year. Whatever the clutter was, it wasn’t a bother to her. Left just enough space for Yongsun’s laptop which, with the shades on the one window in the place covered, and the string lights bouncing softly against the beige walls, cast an almost intrusive strain on her eyes. Staring at this thing for hours and making so little progress was demoralizing.

One job application submitted. Five apartments flagged to potentially visit with Chorong. Gym time with Taecyeon scheduled.

Those were Yongsun’s tasks for the day.

To procrastinate submitting the job application, the blonde searched for apartments and found three before growing antsy with that and opting to initiate a conversation with Taecyeon instead. Workout immediately agreed on, not long passed before the two found themselves engrossed in a meme battle. Taec’s girlfriend made a surprise visit though, ending their competition—Yongsun won, no doubt thanks to all the memes Byulyi had saved on her phone—and forcing Yongsun to grudgingly focus on the half-completed cover letter mocking her.

“Wheein-ah, I have half an application, three apartments, and a gym date with Taec scheduled for Friday.” Classes began the following Monday. Of the students back on campus, most would spend Friday sleeping the day away and chasing that with a night out, resuming the collegiate antics interrupted by a few weeks home with their families. The gym would be empty.

“Nice! Let me know when you’ve submitted the complete application and have 5 apartments listed! Good job on time with Taecyeon-oppa. You’re in desperate need of some stress relief.”

“I worked out without him over break,” Yongsun grumbled, mashing her fingers against the keyboard to form a sentence about skills she had that matched the skills they sought. Something like that.

“Yeah, but everyone you hung out with over break brought you more stress. Byulyi-unnie and Seungyeon-unnie. Stress. Much like our time together today, you need more stress-free time,” Wheein threw a sarcastic smile Yongsun’s way, the pronounced indent next to making an appearance. Even with the soft lighting, it was visible.

Amidst everything else, there was one update that escaped Yongsun a week ago during their video call, and almost did the same today. Catching it by the ankle, she pulled it to center stage.

“You were right, you know,” Yongsun proclaimed.

“I know,” Wheein agreed, slow, precise scratched across the canvas. “What exactly about though?”

“Seungyeon. I didn’t mention her last week. Told you we were going to hang out but didn’t fill you in on it after the fact.”

“There was so much going on, I don’t blame you. What happened there?”

“The usual,” Yongsun admitted.

“Unnie . . .”  The word felt as if it were to be accompanied by an exasperated sigh. Maybe for Yongsun’s benefit, Wheein held it back.

“I know. I’m going to stop things with her though.” A crisp eye roll from the younger woman stung, but it was warranted. Those same words had been uttered several times before, never holding any weight. “I deserved that.”

“With the Byulyi-unnie situation, you kind of have to decide, don’t you? Can’t keep them both. They both like you. It’ll get messy. Messier,” Wheein’s soft brown brows furrowed together, her tongue poking out the corner of just slightly. A seatbelt secured around the topic, their conversation took a backseat to whatever detail on the canvas that had suddenly become priority.

“Mmm,” Yongsun hummed noncommittally, letting Wheein focus.

“Sorry about that. But yeah, it’ll get messier. Because somehow, even with you not dating either of them, things have already been getting out of control.”

“I’m going to end the physical stuff with Seungyeon.”

“Add it to your to-do list.”

“Oh my gosh! You and these lists! Where’s Hyejin? She wouldn’t keep giving me work to do.”

“That’s exactly why she isn’t here. Heard you were coming and got excited, then I told her we’d be doing work and she vanished.”

Yongsun brilliantly wasted 20 more minutes calling Hyejin, urging the younger woman to come save her.

“Unnie, I’m eating. Call me again when you’ve finished your homework and I’ll head over” she promised.

“We have food here!” Wheein’s voice wafted over from her painting space.

“Oooo,” Hyejin cooed, “save me some of that. Until then, have fun. See you later, unnie!”

The following four hours passed surprisingly quickly, saturated with nothing but the silkiest of R&B hits floating about the room. A gift from the heavens above it must have been, because as with the enchanting music filling the room, productivity hypnotized Yongsun, leaving her in a moment of concentration that spanned hours. Before she knew it, the cover letter was complete. Serendipitously, the deep bass and intoxicating melodies of Uhm Jung Hwa’s ‘Invitation’ began building upon one another the moment Yongsun clicked ‘submit’.

“Done!” Yongsun emphatically shut her laptop. “I’m free!”

“You’re dramatic. Honestly though, I think I’m done for the day, too. We made great progress.”

“It wasn’t as bad as I made it seem. I feel like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.”

“The relationship stuff aside, it sounds like once you find a job, most of your worries will be sorted out. And you may be blowing even that out of proportion. The Center’s gonna hire you.”

“Byulyi keeps saying the same thing.”

“There’s no reason they’d change your routine up for the final semester if they weren’t planning on offering you something.”

The words were comforting. And partially true. Director Choi followed through on his promise and paired Yongsun with a veteran Academic Advisor for the upcoming semester. In addition to learning tricks of the trade, her new mentor would help her formulate and codify a process for identifying and tracking the learning styles of incoming student-athletes. It was a big project, but something Yongsun had shown throughout her time at The Center that she was serious about—she’d successfully helped a handful of athletes improve their academic performance by tweaking study habits to better suit their preferences.

“Ugh, I love this song!” Wheein ran off to restart ‘Invitation’. In the meantime, Yongsun checked her cell phone for the first time in at least two hours.

One message:

From: Byul-ah

It’s official! Turkey-bound. Gave a verbal commitment today. 4:39 pm

Not a surprise. Yongsun knew of the decision ahead of time. Since their car confessional the week before, the two were on the same page about that. What the decision meant for their relationship, neither knew. Mainly because Yongsun didn’t know, and it seemed Byulyi, for now, was fine waiting until Yongsun figured it out. She wouldn’t push. Yongsun was grateful for that. It was clear, though, that the athlete wanted more. And the graduate student figured Moonbyul would wait only so long before eventually growing tired of waiting for some type of commitment. When the time came, because it was coming, Yongsun worried she wouldn’t be ready. For sure not if it came any time soon.

Dating her best friend was as big of a decision as it was a foregone conclusion. Hesitating on giving the green light to a more-than-platonic relationship with Byulyi came from understanding the gravity of the decision. What they had was not a relationship to take lightly. They were a match in many ways. Yongsun didn’t question that. They fit together. Moon Byulyi was her person. Her best friend, the one that—in a relatively short amount of time—she came to trust with everything. With her life.

Committing to that serious of a relationship scared her. All cards on the table, it terrified her. As friends, they could argue, take some time away from each other if necessary, and then get back on track. There was nothing to lose. No matter what, Yongsun knew she and Byulyi would remain important parts of each other’s lives if they stayed friends. If they dated, things were not as guaranteed. If they dated and, for whatever reason, broke up, she’d lose both her best friend and her lover in one shot.

That was not a gamble Yongsun knew how to force herself to make.

On the horizon, she could see a happy life with Byulyi. A healthy, functioning relationship. Something even stronger and more durable than what currently existed between them.

But life was unpredictable. Try as she might, Yongsun couldn’t commit to what they would be because she worried about what could happen. Someone prettier catching Byulyi’s eye, a petty argument that spiraled out of control, who knows, the list was endless. Anything at any time could derail what looked, felt, and sounded like it would be a great relationship.

Heeding Wheein’s incessant calls to join her, though, Yongsun realized that the time for worry had passed. Now, it seemed, was the time to lip-sync for their lives to smooth 90s R&B.

She hastily typed a response lest Wheein forcibly drag her to the room’s center.

To: Byul-ah

I’m proud of you. 6:28 pm

She meant it, and Moonbyul would understand that fully.

This was a moment that called for unwavering support and reassurance. Everything else would be discussed another time.

Yongsun slipped the cellular device into her pants, pocketing both her phone and the clouds hanging overhead that action plans and next steps weren’t as easily crafted for.

Note: We back. Hope you're all well ♥

Hwasa x Dua Lipa coming for necks.