Note: Not going to say much because the chapter is already too long. Chapter 50 and Chapter 51 happen within the same week (Chapter 50 is a Monday, Chapter 51 starts on Tuesday). Seeing as it’s been a while since 50 was posted, my only ask is to take some time to go back as many chapters as you need to get back into a comfortable groove with this story.

Songs that helped me write this chapter:

• • Break My Heart – Dua Lipa
  • Velvet/Jenny Francis (Interlude) – Stormzy
  • Lovesick – Banks
  • LIKE IT – Amaarae
  • Bittersweet – Lianne La Havas
  • Almost Doesn’t Count – Brandy
  • Ungodly Hour – Chloe x Halle

“Keep your hands up!”

The session’s repetitive motions finally caught up to Byulyi. Her shoulders ached from shooting as many shots as she had over the past hour, a dull burning coursing through her thighs each time she pushed off the balls of her feet. It was partially offset, though, by the satisfaction rippling through her as the basketball, time and time again, zipped silently through the net.

Coach Do made sure to strip even that sliver of joy away, though, barking out command after command each time the athlete landed.

“Back straight.”

“Go up and down. Stop wasting movement.”

“Square your hips!”

“Jump, Byulyi!”

To her credit, Byulyi took each of them in stride, making the called-for adjustments without interrupting her streak of shots. No complaining about being tired, not a word about being sore, nothing. She took the critiques and focused because, if there were ever a week for focusing, it was this one.

The team had the day off. With their Conference Tournament starting on Thursday, the coaching and training staff agreed that a day of rest would do everyone well. The team’s stellar performance over the past few months strengthened the adults’ confidence in their squad’s ability to seamlessly jump back into things on Wednesday. They emailed scouting reports to everyone and offered optional office hours today, but no one was required to work out. In fact, Coach Ok strongly encouraged the players to avoid all strenuous physical activity.

Yet here Byulyi was. On the court. Not avoiding strenuous physical activity.

And here Coach Do was. Assisting her in not avoiding strenuous physical activity.

It took a bit of convincing to get the assistant coach to facilitate this workout—and a “bit” of convincing meant a very tiny amount. The young coach was easily swayed by Byulyi’s line of reasoning when the athlete cited her time off due to injury as justification for why she of all people needed the day.

“I was off for a couple months, Coach,” she whined, “I need to stay sharp. Especially with our guests coming on Wednesday.”

“Fine. No more than an hour and a half. We’ll focus on shooting and ball handling.”

“That works!”

It was why she didn’t dare speak in the face of so many corrections. Coach Do was doing her a favor. And the older woman had a level of expertise Byulyi aspired to one day have—she knew basketball. As such, whatever Coach Do asked for, Byulyi fought against the fatigue setting in to deliver.

The fatigue was starting to best her though. After Byulyi put up five more shots, her coach stoically shut off the automated shooting machine.

“Byul. How tall are you?”

Trying to catch her breath with hands clasped behind her head, the athlete said nothing, unsure if an actual answer was what her coach wanted.

“That wasn’t rhetorical,” Coach Do prodded while toying with her cellphone.

“Around 172 cm,” Byulyi spoke up, making sure to do so loudly and clearly.

“And there are players in our conference that are significantly taller than that 172 cm.” No sarcastic remark about Byulyi’s inflated reporting of height meant the woman was fully in coach-mode. “You do well because you’re more skilled than they are and because you’re more athletic than they are. When you go overseas, that won’t be the case—there are women 190 cm that can move as quickly as you can, if not quicker. And I know you’ll be training over the summer to prepare—at least, that’s what I’m assuming you’ll do—but there are small things you can do now to rid yourself of bad habits. Like catching the ball higher while you’re tired! The last 10 shots were lazy. I told you to catch it higher, you did that for a few shots then went back to receiving the ball low. Keep doing that and they’ll eat you up in the pros, Byulyi, I promise you they will. You’ll ride the bench, and that team isn’t paying all that money for a benchwarmer. They want at least a solid backup point guard.”

“Sorry.” What more was there to say? Coach Do played overseas for a few years. She knew what life as a professional athlete looked like and understood the rigors of the day-in and day-out. Byulyi had no choice but to believe the assessment given. Of course, it didn’t make her feel any better that a lot of what her coach pointed out mirrored her own concerns.

Caught up in SNU’s current season and championship hunt, the senior didn’t talk much about what loomed around the quickly-approaching corner, but each time she thought about becoming a professional athlete, apprehension bubbled within. A significant part of her was afraid that she didn’t have what it took to succeed on that high a level.

But those thoughts were best tucked away to be dealt with at another time.

With bated breath, Byulyi waited as Coach Do looked after her appraisingly, eventually sighing and shaking her head. “Let’s finish on 50 shots made, 10 each spot. Catch the ball higher and pay attention on the wings. Your shot percentages are the lowest there,” she motioned to the shot chart on her cellphone screen. “Cool down on the bike afterward and we’ll talk more then.”

Both women were quiet after that, which was a good sign for Byulyi. It meant Coach Do couldn’t find as much fault with her performance. Thank goodness.

*

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“You already know the plan for the tomorrow,” Byulyi casually remarked, her pedaling never ceasing. Talking to her coach this freely was only an option once more because she got her act together at the end of their workout and wormed her way back into the older woman’s good graces. Of all the assistant coaches, Coach Do was the most laid back, a surprise to any of the team’s new players given her veteran status on staff. She was second-in-command after the head coach but allowed jokes and a certain level of informal talk. Only when she was in a good mood though.

“I was going to curse at you but then I remembered you’re about to be paid big money. I need to be nice so that you donate to the program once you graduate.”

“It wasn’t very nice when you were yelling at me earlier.”

“That was understandable. You were shooting like an .”

“Coach!” Byulyi halted her cycling to grin in disbelief.

“What? I’m telling the truth,” she responded matter-of-factly. “But about tomorrow. Coach Ok gave me a general overview. What are the details?”

The Conference Tournament wasn’t the only major event this week that Byulyi had to prepare for. Her deal with Nike was moving forward full steam ahead. The list of athletes for the company’s South Korea: On the Rise campaign had been finalized, Byulyi among them. As such, a small production crew was visiting SNU tomorrow to interview Byulyi on her athletic career—past, present, and future. They would also attend the team’s practice and their tournament games on Thursday, Friday, and Sunday to capture footage of her in her element.

Never having participated in something of this magnitude before, the senior didn’t realize it was an occasion that warranted any fanfare. She quickly learned otherwise. The campaign’s PD coordinated practice times with her head coach who, when asked for ideal locations to shoot the interview portion of things, put the man in contact with the athletic department’s Communications team. News spread from there and now, for whatever reason, the Athletic Director into things, planning to personally greet the Nike crew and requesting that the school put together their own separate film crew to shoot and edit a behind-the-scenes video to be released after the Nike profile went public.

Byulyi had no idea how something as simple as ‘an interview and a few clips of practice and games’ turned into such a spectacle. She was hoping her coach had an idea of where things took a dramatic turn for the worst.

“You know how the AD is.”

“I was hoping to do the interview somewhere relaxed like the new Student-Athlete Lounge. That would’ve been cool. Now I have to do it in one of the stuffy rooms in his office-suite.”

“The man is an expert at making everything about him. It’s best not to worry about it. What’s done is done.”

“But it’s not right.” Byulyi offered an awkward chuckle but internally, feelings of annoyance built up as she discussed the situation again—she and Yongsun discussed it the night before. None of this had anything to do with anyone other than her and her team. All these other people getting involved was pissing her off.

“Look. There’s nothing you can do about it, Byulyi. Aren’t you studying business? These are the politics of business. And it’s just the beginning. There’ll be many more situations where not everything will go as you want. The AD sticking his nose in this is annoying, yes, but at least you have somewhere to do your interview. And he’ll probably go all out and buy refreshments for you and the crew. So, in the end, you didn’t have to fuss over the logistics of finding a location and you’re getting free food out of it. It could be worse.”

“That’s funny,” Byulyi spoke as she continued pedaling, “my best friend said something similar when I talked to her about this.”

“Your best friend, huh?” Eyebrows playfully wagging while speaking, the implication in her coach’s voice was clear.

“Stop,” the athlete mumbled through a bashful grin.

“Do I get to meet this ‘best friend’?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re annoying.” She was even starting to talk like Yongsun now.

“I’m annoying? Have you met yourself? I’m surprised that young lady is willingly entertaining your nonsense.”

“You want me to donate to the program and you want me to introduce you to my inner-circle, yet you continue making jokes at my expense. . . . I think I’ll pass on both until you get your act together, Coach.”

“Mmhmm. Just make sure you have your act together. On and off the court. I attended SNU once, I know what goes on. I know what you athletes are like.”

How this somehow turned into an indirect conversation about Byulyi’s love life, she didn’t know, but anything was possible when with Coach Do. The two spent a lot of time together over the years, resulting in a closer coach-athlete relationship than most others. Admittedly, it felt great to so freely joke about and discuss her relationship with Yongsun without having to go into any of the complicated details about the relationship. Anything said here and now would stay between the two of them.

“It’s not like that. I’m good to her. Or, I try to be, at least.” The confession was a shy one, eyes trained on the stationary bike’s handlebars. Saying something that cheesy was embarrassing.

“That’s cute. Continue doing that,” Byulyi’s coach responded sincerely. Checking her phone once more she cut the conversation short. Okay, I have responsibilities to get to. Finish your cooldown and then go to the trainer’s room.”

“Will do. Thanks for today.”

“Yeah, yeah. Make sure to get rest tonight. We’ll all do our best to make you look good in front of the cameras tomorrow,” she winked.

*

“Her shot is so weird.”

“Call it what it is—it’s ugly.”

“She shoots a higher percentage than you! Maybe you should be taking notes.”

“No, thank you. I’d rather choke.”

“I’d rather you choke, too.”

“Whatever.”

“She’s a starter, you ride the bench.”

“I got playing time today, thank you very much.”

“You got a few minutes because we won in a blowout. So, again, I say: weird shot and all, she’s a starter, you ride the bench.”

“Anyone riding the bench at SNU would be a starter anywhere else.”

“Byul-unnie!”

“Hmm?” The senior absentmindedly responded, eyes still on her phone. Her teammates’ banter had been nothing but dull background noise to her for the last few minutes.

“Please teach this first-year some humility. She’s getting a little too full of herself.”

“Mmm. Soojin-ah, you should listen to Haesoo,” Byulyi immediately sided with the oldest among the group arguing. The captain understood why Soojin was being as braggadocious as she was—this was her first college basketball tournament of importance and, after finally being given minutes, the young athlete was still full of adrenaline. Byulyi understood but was in the middle of figuring out how to convince Yongsun to make the trip from the other end of campus to come meet her—mediating this petty argument wasn’t too high up on her list right now. Haesoo could handle it.

SNU kicked off its Conference Tournament with a thorough thrashing of Soongsil University. By the third quarter, Coach Ok pulled the starters, Byulyi among them, allowing the younger players to get in-game experience. Since then, members of their team were camped out in a section of the audience, gossiping, bickering, and ‘scouting’ the other teams’ games. Having played each of these teams several times throughout the season, each player should have been well-versed in the schemes and strategies the other teams leaned on, but it was always fun finally having the opportunity to be spectators. Then again, they could lounge around for as long as they wanted because the entire team received passes excusing them from attending all of their classes on Thursday and Friday. A few of them decided to go to class anyway, but most of them gladly parked themselves in the arena seats to avoid their academic responsibilities. If asked, the younger players would say they were following the example of their captain. Byulyi had both of her classes today. She attended neither, opting instead to spend the past three and a half hours doing nothing but stalling. Yongsun was busy at her job since early in the morning and went to hang out with some of her graduate school classmates afterward. Byulyi was simply biding her time until her best friend was done so that the two could spend time together.

To: Yong

So . . . having fun? 6:04 pm

From: Yong

Byul-ah. This is like the 5^th time you’ve asked in the past hour 😩 6:06 pm

To: Yong

Just making sure you’re good. 6:06 pm

From: Yong

You’re checking to see when I’m leaving. 6:09 pm

To: Yong

And that. 6:09 pm

From: Yong

😩

We’re packing up now. You’re still at the gym? 6:15 pm

To: Yong

Yes. You should come. 6:15 pm

From: Yong

That’s on the opposite end of campus 😩

Can’t we just meet at UV? 6:20 pm

To: Yong

Or we could meet here and walk to UV together . . . 6:20 pm

From: Yong

Byul-ah 😩 6:23 pm

To: Yong

Yongsun 🥺👉👈

(and stop using that emoji) 6:23 pm

From: Yong

How about this one: 🖕 6:25 pm

To: Yong

I love when you get feisty 🤤

See you soon 😍 6:25 pm

“Unnie, why are you smiling at your phone?”

And just like that, Byulyi became the team’s new target. Judging by the nonsense they’d been squabbling over for the last half hour, the ongoing game was doing very little to hold their interest and attention. Like moths to a flame, the horde flocked to their captain in hopes of extracting even the tiniest bit of gossip.

“Talking to your girlfriend?” One of the second-years scooted over a few seats to whisper—the audience around them were fans of the other teams in the tournament. The last thing anyone needed was one of them overhearing this conversation and Byulyi appreciated the discretion with which her teammate operated. Her uality, and the uality of some of her teammates, was common knowledge among the circles she ran in, but she didn’t need or want non-SNU strangers part of the conversation.

“Which one?” Soojin huddled close.

“Which one? What’s that supposed to mean?” The senior took offence.

“Obviously wifey,” the original instigator ignored Byulyi’s question altogether while clarifying for Soojin.

“Not that obvious. Some of the volleyball girls were saying that unnie had something with their captain on the low low. I assumed you all just hadn’t updated me on the current state of her affairs since I’m a first-year.”

“The current state of my affai–”

“We talked about it yesterday after practice!” Another teammate rushed in with a harsh whisper. “Wifey is the only one right now.”

“You all should put this energy into your studies and not my love life,” the captain wrested control of the conversation. If her teammates were saying this, the chat about her among the greater student population must have been even more sensationalized.

“When our studies are as interesting as your love life, we’ll focus harder.”

“Oh!” Soojin startled everyone with her sudden outburst. “Is that why you’re wearing your shorts shorter now, unnie?”

Before she could get a word in edgewise, another teammate responded. “Okay, I noticed the same thing but didn’t want to say it.”

“My shorts are the same lengt–”

“Aww, she’s showing off for her girl. That’s so cute. And the bracelet she never takes off, I think it’s a couple item.” They were pretty close to the truth with that one. Moonbyul stayed quiet at that.

“Wifey does have a similar one in her pictures.”

“Wait, I’ve never seen her. Show me!”

“You’ve never seen her? Seriously? Let me show you her Instagram.”

“Get your last looks in now. I’ll let her know she needs to make her socials private,” Byulyi piped up. It was said in jest, but another part of her was disappointed that she hadn’t previously thought about that. Her teammates knowing Yongsun was inevitable. Their ‘wifey’ jokes didn’t bother her but the senior also knew that many others outside of her team had an equal, if not stronger, level of interest in unearthing ‘the truth’ about her and Yongsun. It probably didn’t take much, either, to find the graduate student’s social media accounts given how often Byulyi was underneath Yongsun’s posts purposely badgering her best friend.

“Look at how she’s protecting her! You’re such a romantic, unnie.”

From: Yong

Outside 🙄 6:50 pm

To: Yong

I’ll be right out. 6:50 pm

Something about having one’s life scrutinized really helped time fly by.

“You all need to get lives. Please. I highly recommend it.”

“You’re leaving?” One wondered aloud as Byulyi stood to put on her outerwear and collect her bookbag.

“How’d you guess?” She sassed, a wry smile decorating the lower half of her face.

“Tell her we say ‘hi’.”

“And that she should come to our game tomorrow.”

“Who says I’m meeting with anyone? I could just be tired and going home to sleep.”

“Sleep. Sure. Have fun with that.” The infectious laughter from one quickly spread to the number of teammates in the immediate vicinity.

“I’m too good to all of you. If I were stricter, you wouldn’t feel comfortable disrespecting me like this.”

“Goodnight, unnie! We love you. ‘Rest’ well tonight,” Soojin made air quotations with her still-taped fingers.

Maybe Haesoo was right—this first-year was more of a thorn in her side than Byulyi initially thought.

*

“You look like .”

“I miss her and this is how she greets me,” Byulyi jokingly rolled her eyes while adjusting the strap of the bag rubbing uncomfortably against her shoulder. On the outside, she hammed up the playfulness but internally, with every step that brought her closer to the blonde she’d been itching to see, her insides flipped with excitement.

“Want me to hold your bag for you?” It seemed her minor discomfort didn’t go unnoticed. Byulyi quickly waved Yongsun’s offer off, freeing the graduate student up to resume her verbal attack. “You always tell me I ‘look tired’ and now that I say the same to you, you’re being sensitive. Typical jock behavior,” she scoffed while standing from the royal blue wooden bench outside the arena’s entrance.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. ‘You look tired’ means just that, it doesn’t mean you look bad.”

“Ask anyone. ‘You look tired’ never means anything positive. It is a nicer way of saying someone looks like .”

“Oh. Well . . . I always meant it positively. You always look cute to me.”

The last sentence was softer and more muted than the rest. It jumped out before any filter screened it and only halfway through did Byulyi catch hold of what she was saying. Not that she was shy about showering Yongsun with compliments, but this wasn’t really the moment for that. Not because they were in the middle of an athletic complex littered with basketball fans, not because of anything negative. It was actually that she and Yongsun finally found their footing again and were in a relatively good place that Byulyi regretted her words.

Two weeks ago, they were fine. Doing well. Then Yongsun’s birthday happened and the fiasco occurred. Coupled with the week that followed—characterized by a very real physical separation, and a potentially imagined emotional distancing between them—things no longer felt as fine. The overanalyzing her every action, the second-guessing how truthful Yongsun was being about her busyness, all the other harrowing thoughts and feelings that plagued Byulyi last week, it was no exaggeration to say that was the most unsure she’d ever been about the situationship they had going. Each time Yongsun’s contact popped up on her phone, Byulyi half expected it to be the graduate student calling or texting to say she didn’t want to do this anymore. It was miserable.

Now, one week later, a complete 180°. The pair’s moment(s) of static after Senior Night on Friday birthed a new sense of stability in their relationship. Since her ‘confession’ to Wheein and Hyejin, the air around Yongsun seemed less turbulent. She seemed to have settled into her and Byulyi. It was hard to explain. Yongsun’s actions weren’t any different and their conversations, once more, returned to their unique balance of openness, honesty, and playfulness, but there was something more, too, that Byulyi noticed. The pair fell back into a routine that objectively resembled that of a romantic couple. Yongsun didn’t seem to notice it at all. After the week of not seeing each other, they spent Sunday together at Byulyi’s place reclaiming the comfort and easiness of being together. Eating. Sleeping. Talking. Not talking. Caressing. Kissing. Reconnecting. Healing.

Byulyi was eager, grateful to once again be so close to her best friend and she let it be known through busy hands and hopeful lips. Not once did Yongsun cringe at her excitement or clinginess. There were no forced sarcastic comments meant to dispel the moments of sentimentality either. Instead, the older reciprocated wholeheartedly without hesitation. That was new.

          Even newer was the way Yongsun initiated communication more often. Wrapped in each other on Sunday, it was Yongsun who broached the topic of how their Saturday evenings panned out. Yongsun who willingly and in a forthcoming manner shared details about the nature of her time spent with Jinyoung—naturally, Moonbyul had her doubts about what their interactions entailed, but the older woman’s openness in divulging those details went a long way in pushing Byulyi’s concerns to a back burner for the time being.

Over the past few days, the graduate student even took to sending morning text messages. The lines were very clearly drawn in the sand that that was Byulyi’s thing, and yet, the basketball player woke up on Wednesday morning to a message from Yongsun wishing her good luck for the day with Nike. While her nerves about the interview didn’t evaporate, the thoughtful words brought a smile to her face—it felt good to have support like that in her corner.

          That text alone meant an incredible amount to Byulyi, as did the other messages they exchanged throughout the day. What did her in, though, was after her interview and practice when, on her way back to her apartment, she shared with Yongsun over a phone call how poorly she’d slept Tuesday night due to anxiousness about everything. Once finished scolding Byulyi for not mentioning that earlier, Yongsun, again without hesitation, asked, “Do you want to spend the night by me? Your tournament starts tomorrow and you always mention how comfortable you sleep over here. It might be good to help you catch up on the sleep you lost.” Just like that. Of course, Byulyi accepted immediately. And, as it went more often than not, Yongsun was right. Byulyi slept the best she had all week. Maybe it was the sheets, maybe it was that Yongsun’s room always smelled so damn good, or maybe it was the woman around whom she wrapped herself.

Thinking back to the way her Wednesday night ended, Byulyi smiled gently at memories of the way her Thursday started earlier—still wrapped in Yongsun. Not physically. Byulyi’s arms met only wrinkled sheets when she came to, but almost all of her other senses were overwhelmed with the graduate student. Residual steam from the bathroom wafted into the bedroom, carrying with it the familiar—but still surprisingly intoxicating—combination of peppermint and berries. The lush aroma of Yongsun’s body wash and shampoo, respectively, caressed Byulyi’s nose immediately, followed by the whiff of food and spray starch slipping through the slit of the partially open bedroom door.

Yongsun woke up early enough to cook Byulyi breakfast and iron her uniform for the tournament. All while preparing for work at 9:00 AM. The athlete distinctly remembered the way her skin stretched to its limit at smiling so wide at that before confusion washed over her—the behavior Yongsun exhibited was that of a partner. Not partner-like behavior. Not partner-adjacent behavior. Partner behavior, period. And Yongsun seemed oblivious to that. It was confusing.

Her actions said one thing but whenever the status of their relationship was explicitly brought up, the blonde became a thesaurus—sputtering endless words and phrases that alluded to what they were without ever actually saying it. Because, for whatever reason, she couldn’t.

But Byulyi put that on a back burner too, because since officially upgrading their relationship to ‘seeing each other as more than friends’, they’d been doing well. As such, the young woman stayed quiet and took whatever Yongsun freely gave, be that breakfast, cuddling, or kisses. She stayed quiet and took what she could get because she feared that pointing out the inconsistency between the other’s words and actions would push Yongsun away. Their romantic relationship thus far was a dinghy patched together with electrical tape, only barely surviving turbulent waters. One wrong move, one wrong decision would rock them beyond control and that was the last thing Byulyi wanted.

What she wanted was a relationship. And she wanted that so badly with Yongsun. They were so close. Within arm’s reach, it felt. Thus, the athlete blocked her ears to the roundabout words Yongsun told others and placed greater emphasis on the other woman’s actions. Those told a very different story.

The breakfast, cuddling, and kissing.

The fact that the two began their walk back to UV without needing to acknowledge out loud whose apartment they were heading to because they both already knew that Byulyi would continue living out of Yongsun’s apartment for the duration of the tournament. The breakfasts, cuddling, and kissing would continue.

That all meant something, no? It had to. No one was forcing Yongsun to do any of what she was doing. In fact, no one even asked Yongsun to do any of that. She did it all because she wanted to. Yongsun had serious feelings for her. She did what she did because she wanted this thing with Byulyi as much as Byulyi wanted this thing with Yongsun.

That’s what Byulyi hoped it all meant. No other explanation made sense.

Yongsun didn’t make sense.

“Oh. Well . . . I always mean it positively. You always look cute to me.”

So, yeah, instead of letting her most recent words hang between them and risk the chance that that compliment might be the one to tip Yongsun’s emotional scale, Byulyi got a hold of herself and followed those sincere and honest words of adoration and sentimentality with a stupid joke. Yongsun seemed none the wiser and responded with a quip of her own, leading the younger of the two to breathe easy as they, once again, fell into their routine banter.

The absurdity of it all never once left her though. They kept on with their walk to Yongsun’s apartment where they’d continue playing house without explicitly acknowledging that the level of intimacy coating their every action was a sign of them already being what they still held off on calling each other.

 

*

“My turn. What would be a perfect day for you?”

“Hmm. My perfect day. Let’s see. I’d wake up to breakfast already made. No classes. Then I’d play and watch basketball all day before ending it by cuddling in bed with my favorite person while we take turns asking each other stupid questions. Kind of like today.”

“My questions are stupid?”

“You do this on purpose. Derailing the conversation. I’m sure of it.”

“So now I derail conversations?”

“Oh my gosh, go to sleep. You’re annoying me now.”

“Stop stealing my phrases, one. And two, now I’m annoying?” Yongsun asked in a purposely exaggerated voice.

They’d been at it this way for the past hour. The evening’s minutes ticked by with Byulyi and Yongsun’s muted laughter and increasingly drowsy voices filling space and time that was designated for soft snores. Byulyi blamed Yongsun.

They ate dinner and took turns washing up before the graduate student set up shop in the living room to complete schoolwork. Byulyi, sapped of energy from a jam-packed few days, lingered on the couch for a bit before giving in to her body’s demands—she needed sleep. Yet even after trudging to Yongsun’s room and settling into her side of the bed, she couldn’t fall asleep. Her body yearned for it, but her mind refused. Neither the cool sheets nor the gentle breeze flowing in through the bedside window eased her mind enough to bring sleep. The athlete re-watched film on Anyang University—SNU’s opponent on Friday—until Yongsun finally traipsed in and climbed into bed next to her. Unable to let the moment pass, Byulyi fought the immediate comfort and peace Yongsun’s presence offered to make a joke. Something along the lines of how SNU would blame Yongsun if the team lost because it was her fault Byulyi wasn’t well-rested. It was stupid. It was predictable. And Yongsun fell for it anyway.

The nonsensical bickering somehow transitioned into an informal game of 21 Questions that had yet to stop.

“What is the greatest accomplishment in your life?” Byulyi asked groggily with eyes closed. Laying on her back, she cradled the head on her chest with her left hand while her right held onto Yongsun’s leg draped across her hips.

“Getting accepted to SNU.”

“Why?”

“It’s only supposed to be one question at a time, but I’ll allow it. I gave that answer because I didn’t have a backup plan. SNU was all or nothing for me. I only worked for a year after college to prepare for graduate school. Everything was about getting into this program. I felt it was the only way to get to the next level in life, whatever that next level is. Not too sure what it is I’m looking for, maybe stability? I don’t know. But I felt I’d be able to reach it by going down this route.”

That was the sincerest turn their conversation had taken since starting, and the first time Yongsun shared that piece of information with Byulyi. The athlete knew about specific elements of the other woman’s life before attending this school—her family, the job she had, a little about what college was like for her—but they never discussed why it was Yongsun chose this path. She knew a lot about Yongsun, and Yongsun knew a lot about her, but even after over 1.5 years of friendship, Byulyi knew that she didn’t know all of Yongsun. She wanted to, though. That included learning more about the motivations that informed her best friend’s decisions, especially the decision to attend SNU, the one that led to their paths crossing.

Follow-up questions sat on the tip of her tongue, ready to burst through. Did Yongsun now have ideas about what the “next level” looked like for her? Has she been satisfied thus far with her decision to go to graduate school? She most wanted to ask, though, what kind of stability it was that Yongsun wanted so that she could remind the blonde once again that she, Byulyi, was more than willing to provide whatever semblance of stability and security she could. She wanted to be the rock for Yongsun that Yongsun was for her.

However, to no surprise, Yongsun shut the door on that before Byulyi’s brain instructed her lips to open.

“Would you like to be famous? And if so, in what way?”

“Ah. A double question because of my double question.”

“Yes.”

Fame was never something Byulyi thought about. Real fame, not the ‘popularity’ that came with being an athlete at SNU. Until very recently, fame wasn’t something attainable for female athletes. “I just want to play basketball, make money, and take care of my loved ones. That’s all. Fame . . . I could do without.”

“Says the one with a Nike deal who’s about to spend all of her Saturday with models.”

“That’s part of the making money that will help me take care of my loved ones,” Byulyi answered coolly.

“I’m sure you’re not complaining about the company you’ll have though.”

“I don’t even know who the people I’ll be working with are. And I say working because it’s a job. Emphasis on the job part.”

“You can relax. I’m not upset, Byul,” Yongsun’s muffled laugh buried into the athlete’s chest.

“If you’re finally ready to apply to be a model, I can put in a good word for you on Saturday. May not be famous, but there are still perks of knowing me. I can get you an in with industry folks.”

“Ohhh, right. Because you’re a model now, too,” Yongsun sarcastically remarked.

“Exactly. So just let me know when you’re ready and I’ll make a few calls.”

“I can’t be a model.”

“Why not?”

“Models are supposed to be unbelievably beautiful.”

“Like I said, when you’re ready to apply, let me know,” Byulyi doubled down.

“Stupid.”

“The looks are top tier. This attitude though . . .” Yongsun’s signature squeaky laugh rang out at that, which, in turn, made Byulyi smile fondly. Her best friend deserved to laugh that freely all the time. “Excited for your Saturday?”

Chorong’s birthday was the day before on Wednesday. From what Yongsun told Byulyi, her roommate went out for a romantic dinner with her boyfriend and spent the night at his place. It was why the two had the apartment to themselves last night and today. Chorong being Chorong, though, birthday celebrations lasted a full week. They began the weekend before her birthday and would continue through the weekend after her birthday. Saturday was a girls’ night out at Jungsik, a highly touted Korean cuisine restaurant in Gangnam. Sunday was brunch at the apartment with their ’91 Club friends.

“Eh.”

“Eh? Thought you’d be more excited for a night out with the girls,” Byulyi murmured. It was well past midnight and her body was slowly surrendering to sleep.

Moments passed with no response, leading her to believe Yongsun lost her own battle with slumber. She was startled, then, when she felt rumbling against her nightshirt from Yongsun humming in contemplation. “It’ll be fun, I’m just worried that it’ll get weird.”

“The weirder the better, no? Also, it’s Chorong, weird is to be expected.”

“Maybe you should be grateful that she likes you now and not talk bad about her.”

“She likes me as long as I treat you well so . . . she may not like me for much longer. It’s getting more difficult each day to keep up with this charade. You’re too demanding.” If it weren’t obvious enough that she was joking, Byulyi slipped comforting fingers into Yongsun’s hair, massaging her scalp as she spoke. The hope was that the intimate gesture would negate her words said in jest.

“For someone that jokes so much, you’re not funny at all. A shame. Anyway, not weird in a good way, weird in an uncomfortable way.”

Once more, verbal silence ensued, only the sound of their in-sync breaths to be heard.

There was more to the story. If Yongsun wanted to explain further, she would. As much as she wanted to, Byulyi wasn’t going to push.

“The whole thing is stupid.” Yet there was hesitance in each word uttered. How long it was taking for Yongsun to tell the story raised red flags. Whatever she was going to say was going to either annoy Byulyi beyond belief or piss her off. “One of Chorong’s sorority sisters messaged me earlier this week with an apology. Long story short, she thought Jinyoung and I were dating so she apologized because the two of them exchanged numbers or whatever. She has a crush on him, or had a crush on him. I don’t know. Like I said, it’s stupid. But she’ll be there on Saturday and I don’t really want to deal with that.”

“Why would she think you were dating him?”

Byulyi suddenly wished she never asked about Yongsun’s plans for Saturday.

“Because we were hanging out on Saturday and we left together. You and I talked about that already. He was the only other sober person I knew there. It wasn’t anything romantic.”

“To you.”

“To anyone.”

“Except for Chorong’s sorority sister and probably her other friends. If strangers are looking from the outside and assuming a romantic relationship, there’s probably enough happening there that looks like a romantic relationship.” For example, this very thing between her and Yongsun. Within moments, strangers assumed there was more than friendship between the two of them and although it had yet to be privately or publicly confirmed, those strangers were right.

“Byul. Stop. We sat next to each other, talked, and ate. That’s it. I eventually cleared it up and explained to her that it’s not like that with him at all.”

“Did you tell her that he’s your ex?”

“I did not. Because that doesn’t matter. She assumed he and I were together, I told her that wasn’t true, end of story.”

“Then why are you concerned about Saturday?”

“I’m not concerned,” the blonde sighed—that meant she was getting frustrated, which was fine because Byulyi was frustrated now, too. “I just don’t know if she’ll let the issue rest or if she’ll make things awkward by bringing it up.”

“Okay,” Byulyi responded tersely.

“See? I knew I should’ve kept it to myself.”

“My favorite part is that this happened earlier this week and you’re only mentioning it on Thursday—well, it’s technically Friday now—because I happened to ask about your upcoming weekend.”

“I didn’t mention it because it’s not a big issue. We’re fighting over Jinyoung, Byulyi. Jinyoung. He is not an issue. Of the many stupid things we argue about, this is one of the stupidest.”

It wasn’t stupid to Byulyi. At all. If anything, there were larger and more important underlying issues that this mix-up carried to the surface. For example, Byulyi already knew that in her clarification to Chorong’s sorority sister, Yongsun didn’t mention that she was seeing someone else. She did not even have to ask to know that assumption was correct. It hurt deeply knowing that that was the case.

Outside the walls of their apartments, Kim Yongsun and Moon Byulyi did not exist. They could cuddle as much as they wanted, eat breakfast and dinner together, discuss their days and innermost thoughts, but to the outside world, they were not real. A popular item of speculation and gossip, yes. Anything beyond that? No.

But Byulyi had already rocked the boat enough for one night.

“It’s too late. We should go to sleep. You have an early morning.” Both heard the weariness in her voice. Neither mentioned it.

“Okay. Sleep well,” Yongsun timidly responded.

“You, too.”

For the first time ever, holding Yongsun in her arms did nothing for Byulyi. No restful sleep, no peace of mind, no nothing.

Yongsun’s eventual steady breathing indicated that she’d fallen asleep, but Byulyi’s mind raced for hours after their last words were spoken to each other, one thought trampling over the others to command the most real estate in her head—what the hell were she and Yongsun actually doing?

*

Friday morning came and went, but Byulyi’s wariness remained. She ended her Thursday doing exactly what she spent an inordinate amount of mental energy reminding herself earlier in the week not to do—rocking the boat. However, the same scents from Thursday morning were waiting for her on Friday. Body wash. Shampoo. Breakfast. Spray starch. Yongsun greeted her happily, as if their friction hours earlier never happened.

Byulyi did well to follow suit.

With no further mention of their argument, Yongsun left for a full day of class, Byulyi focused on preparing for another basketball game. Both returned to the older woman’s apartment afterward and ate dinner together.

The two were separated all of Saturday, Byulyi leaving the apartment first to make an early call time for yet another Nike engagement, this one a photoshoot for online promotional content. It was the beginning of integrating her into things as an official Nike Athlete and ambassador. From what her agent told her, it wasn’t anything too elaborate. She’d only have to model an assortment of Nike gear. The ‘only’ was what had her stomach in knots—she wasn’t a model.  But, even with the initial stumbling through picture taking and the social clumsiness on set and during the dinner with crew afterward, Byulyi made it through. All thanks to her partner for the day, Lee Sungkyung.

At least five centimeters taller and only two years older than Byulyi, Sungkyung carried herself like a woman at least a decade older. Long, voluminous auburn locks kissed by sunlight, striking eyes, and plump, pouty lips, she strut onto set casually greeting the PD and other crew members by name, looking every bit like the veteran Byulyi assumed she was. If ‘uninterested, can’t be bothered’ was a person, it would be Sungkyung’s face, her demeanor and aura only further intensifying Moonbyul’s first-photoshoot nerves.

“Let’s do well today.” The first words Sungkyung spoke to Byulyi. Monotone, but they came with what seemed to be a sincere smile. Encounters throughout the remainder of the photoshoot made it clear that the dry manner of speech on Sungkyung’s part wasn’t personal, it was simply the model’s way of talking. In fact, she spent all day looking out for the newbie, asking icebreaker questions while the photographer took test shots and dropping insider tips and tricks—a mention here about how Byulyi could get more wear out of her makeup, a quick comment there on ‘reading’ the camera to ensure the best angles and shots, even informing the athlete about dinner the PD was hosting later for everyone at a popular burger restaurant in Seogyo.

Moonbyul was grateful to have lucked out as much as she did with the partner she was paired with.

Dinner was more of the same—Sungkyung looking out for her and serving as a social lubricant. It was through the model that Byulyi became more familiar with the crew members who, not even hours before, spent hours primping and perfecting her hair, makeup, and outfits. It was a nice feeling being brought into the fold. But the evening ended early for her as the others made plans to continue their evening festivities. Given her basketball game on Sunday, Byulyi declined the invitation and headed back to Yongsun’s apartment.

The only moment of more-than-average interest that evening, if it could be called that, occurred as the restaurant prepared for closing. Sungkyung, Woohyun, and Iseul—a hairstylist and makeup artist from the day’s shoot, respectively—were finalizing their plans when Woohyun began lamenting the fact that Byulyi wasn’t joining them, citing how much he enjoyed her presence and made her promise to hang out another time so that he could learn more about her. It was a bit over the top because he had a good number of drinks in him, but it was nice knowing she’d made a strong positive impression.

“We’ll get together again and we’ll leave the partners at home,” Woohyun declared, likely because moments before chatting Byulyi up, he was telling the group that his boyfriend was joining for the next leg of partying. “Wait, I never even asked! Byulyi, single or no?”

“He’s asking because if you’re single, he’ll try setting you up with people,” Sungkyung warned.

“You don’t know my type, though,” Byulyi chuckled softly while finally standing from her seat to put her coat on. The restaurant was officially closed and she doubted the workers were looking to stay longer than they needed to.

“Exactly. That’s why when we all go out again, I’ll learn your type and help you find love.”

I already have that was her first thought. I’m trying to hold on to it was her second.

She didn’t stop often to think about it, but even with no official label, Byulyi recognized and acknowledged the overwhelming amount of emotion between her and Yongsun. Something new to the athlete. She had friends but her relationship with Yongsun was more than any of those friendships. She’d had romantic relationships. This with Yongsun felt more than those, too. Deeper. Heavier. Difficult to explain. Their relationship was uncharted territory for her. Byulyi cared about the women she’d been with before the graduate student, but the care she had for Yongsun was different. Suffocating and, to and extent, all-consuming, but in a way that didn’t feel obsessive. It wasn’t only what Yongsun did for her that stood out, not only the breakfasts or the surprise celebrations and gifts. It was also the moments of absolute silence—Yongsun sitting on the living room floor doing work while Byulyi laid on the couch playing mobile games or watching basketball. The moments where she’d be going through her day and suddenly think of Yongsun, only to open her messages and see three dots on the left side of the screen that matched hers on the right. The moments where Yongsun would tell the unfunniest jokes yet Byulyi would laugh anyway, overflowing with disappointment that she couldn’t resist how equally cute and corny her best friend was. A whirl of emotions she’d never before experienced all at once.

Which was all the more reason for her to proceed as cautiously as she was. Buried deep down, there was unspoken frustration at their minimal progress, but what she and Yongsun had wasn’t easy to find and they’d put in a lot of work to get to where they currently were. The last thing Byulyi wanted was to lose that.

Right now, though, it was a relief to not worry about any of the messy. None of the complications or wrinkles left to be ironed out mattered. Byul didn’t have to speak in code and technicalities, nor did she have to worry about Sungkyung, Iseul, or Woohyun immediately connecting the dots in terms of who she was speaking about. Full honesty wouldn’t become another headache.

“No. I’m not single.” A chorus of squeals rang out at the announcement, all of which Byulyi ignored to the best of her ability. It wasn’t often that she found herself the youngest in a group, but whenever she did, it always came with this endless teasing and overreaction.

“Are you really going home to rest or are you meeting up with your person?” Iseul asked skeptically.

“My person’s out with friends tonight. I’m going home to sleep. I promise.”

And sleep she did.

Once tucked under Yongsun’s covers, Byulyi barely typed out a message informing the older woman that she was heading to bed before the adrenaline of her week wore off and the exhaustion settled in.

Nine hours of basketball training. Eight hours spent in treatment and recovery. A two-hour interview. Five hours’ worth of basketball in two consecutive days. Ten hours at a photoshoot followed by a three-hour work dinner. And, because she was still a university student, two college courses accounted for five and a half hours of in-person class time and a few more hours outside of the classroom. All in six days.

Physical tiredness wasn’t new to her, Byulyi grew accustomed to handling her body being pushed to its limit. However, the physical strain combined with the mental and emotional toll of the week’s activities had her head spinning. So much so that added weight on her back and arms wrapped around her lower stomach on Sunday morning left her momentarily confused.

“Byul-ah. Wake up.” Even with eyes not yet pried open, Yongsun’s deep morning voice and teasing side had every other part of Byulyi’s body awake.

“No, let’s cuddle instead,” she rasped.

“No cuddling. We have to get up.”

“We don’t. It’s a Sunday morning. We can sleep in.”

“You have a game you need to get ready for and I have Chorong’s brunch.”

“My game isn’t until tonight. Your brunch isn’t until . . .”

“2:00 PM.”

“2:00 PM.” Fingers fumbled around the bedside wooden night table for her cell phone, slight relief at finding it there because she could have sworn she fell asleep with it next to her. Yongsun must have put it away when she came in. For the first time all morning, Byulyi opened her eyes—well, one eye—to read the time. “It’s 11:33 AM. We can cuddle for at least 15 minutes.”

“Byul-ah,” Yongsun protested, voice vibrating against Moonbyul’s back.

“Do it for SNU. If we cuddle, I’ll feel better. If I feel better, I’ll play better and we’ll win. This is a small sacrifice for a much greater good,” Byulyi mumbled. Since checking the time, her phone had been carelessly flung back onto the night table, face pressed into the pillow once more. The hope was that Yongsun would quickly give in—Byulyi did not have enough energy for much more of a back and forth.

This Sunday must have been blessed because, with no objection, the welcome added weight on her back disappeared suddenly as Yongsun climbed off and returned to her side of the bed. Stifling a groan at the stiff muscles protesting the movement, Byulyi to her left side and pulled the other’s back flush against her chest. A peck to Yongsun’s right cheek for good measure.

So they lay. Over the covers. Byul’s heart beating against Yongsun’s back. Her left arm serving as a pillow for the graduate student, while her right arm draped casually across the curve in Yongsun’s waist. It was nice. Them basking in each other’s presence, no words needed, just calm.

The window beside the night table was cracked open, allowing in a steady, gentle, and crisp breeze that carried in with it the voices of UV residents in the courtyard. The echoes of the strangers’ laughter served as background music to the pair’s intimate moment.

Her body ached, her brain was fried, and she still had a conference championship to worry about later, but for now, none of that mattered. This was what Byulyi knew she and Yongsun could be. When they weren’t getting in their own way, they were great for each other. Even while doing nothing, being with Yongsun was everything.

“How’s your body holding up?”

“Is my body holding up?”

“Mmm. Are you going to be okay tonight?”

“No. My lucky charm won’t be there.” She knew ahead of time that Yongsun wouldn’t make the game today. That didn’t make it any less of a bummer.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be around for the National Tournament games, though. Will be front row with a sign and everything.”

“Sounds fake.”

“Anyway, about your body,” Yongsun ignored her sarcasm.

“I’ll be okay, Yong. KT tape and compression tights will get me through it. And I can sleep in tomorrow so things will be fine. How was your night out?” This was their first chance to really talk things out as texts were limited throughout all of Saturday.

“A lot of fun!” The amount of enthusiasm in that response was a surprise given the concerns Yongsun had earlier in the week about the outing. However, as the older woman explained, her biggest concern never came to be. Chorong’s sorority sister didn’t bring Jinyoung up at all, which made it possible for Yongsun to eventually let her guard down and enjoy the night out. Her excitement was evident in the amount of detail she gave while recounting the evening, most of which Byulyi missed because she dozed off a few times, but the young woman got the gist of things—Yongsun, Chorong, and company ate well, drank a lot, then went bar- and club-hopping until after three in the morning. It now made sense why the messages Byulyi did send went unanswered for so long. “How was your night?”

“Not as exciting as yours. My partner was really cool though. She helped me out a lot and she’s coming to the game tonight. Was hoping to introduce her to you, but maybe another time.”

“The two of you are that close already?”

“No. She seems nice though and she made a big fuss about us hanging out more so maybe in the future we’ll get closer. From last night alone she gave a lot of helpful advice for handling the other shoots I’ll have. She could be a mentor of sorts. Nothing more than that though.”

“Oh gosh, I wasn’t thinking there was more between the two of you, Byulyi. Relax. It was just a question.”

“I’m just saying. I want it on record that I only have eyes for one person.”

“We get it.” She couldn’t see it but Moonbyul knew a signature eye roll accompanied the cheeky remark.

“Y’know what? You’re a little too comfortable for my liking. When I say sweet things like that, you should respond with more energy. I need more excitement in your voice.”

“Noted.” Yongsun’s voice was even more devoid of enthusiasm than before.

“There’s no winning with you.”

“I’m glad you know.”

Both seemingly more tired from their Saturdays than they let on, Byulyi and Yongsun only managed feeble chuckles before settling once more into a comfortable silence.

“Yongsun!” Count on Chorong to disrupt the peace.

“Mmm?” The grunt successfully carried through the door because Chorong’s response was prompt.

“Are you finished getting ready?”

“Haven’t started yet, why?”

“What do you mean ‘why?’ It’s almost noon. When did you plan on getting ready?”

“Probably soon.”

“Probably soon? Brunch starts at 1:00 PM, Yongsun.”

“It starts at 2:00 PM.”

“How are you telling me? I’m the one that planned it. I told everyone to get here for 1:00 PM. Some of the guys said they may come earlier than that in case we needed them to get any last-minute items.”

“Why would it start at 1:00 PM?”

“Because that’s an appropriate time for brunch. Breakfast and lunch, brunch, makes no sense at 2:00 PM, that would just be lunch.”

“Rongie,” Yongsun whined. “I’m tired.”

“And hungover,” Byulyi added low enough for only the two of them to hear.

“And hungover,” Yongsun confirmed, the two laughing behind closed doors at their inside joke.

“Get your up and get ready before I barge into your room and make you get your up. I understand your girl is here, but, respectfully, I don’t care. Hi, Byulyi,” Yongsun’s roommate barked as an afterthought before her heavy steps down the hallway could be heard.

“See? You got me in trouble.”

“Wow. That’s the first time she was nicer to me than she was to you.” It was also unbelievably refreshing to hear Chorong refer to her as Yongsun’s girl. That tidbit stayed tucked away.

“I told you we needed to get up. But no, you wanted to cuddle.”

“You could’ve said no, I didn’t force you. Plus, there’s no ‘we’ that needed to get up. You need to get up and get ready. I’m going back to sleep. Please respect that.”

“You’re so damn annoying. I feel like choking you.”

Having unwrapped her arms from around Yongsun, Byulyi had already turned over and found a new comfortable sleeping position. Eyes closed, conscience clear, she murmured, “Mmm. I love a good choking. That sounds like fun. Another time though, Chorong said you have to get ready.”

Whatever subsequent nagging came from Yongsun fell on deaf ears. Byulyi fell back asleep within minutes.

*

“You have everything, right?”

“I think so.”

“You think or you know?”

“I think, mom. I have the stuff I need for the game later. That’s all that matters. Anything else I can pick up another time.”

Foolishly thinking she’d gotten the last laugh earlier, Byulyi’s peaceful sleep was rudely interrupted an hour later by the harsh sound of Yongsun’s hairdryer. It was abrasive and rude, enough so that remaining asleep proved impossible.

“If you want to sleep, sleep. That doesn’t mean I have to stop living my life.”

She huffed and puffed about the cold words—a mini tantrum that Yongsun drowned out by turning up the hairdryer’s setting—but the younger eventually gave up on the theatrics. It was impossible to put off the inevitable much longer anyway. She did need to get up and begin game day preparations. Once the overgrown child fully accepted that, Yongsun’s tune changed. The blonde scuttled around the room with her, collecting Byulyi’s belongings and helping her pack things up.

“I’ll keep an eye out for anything left behind.”

“Thanks.” Scanning the room once more for any obvious forgotten belongings, the taller woman found none, tightening the straps of her bookbag and gripping the handles of her royal blue duffel bag. “Let me get going now. Your friends are probably going to start arriving soon.”

“Okay.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s obviously something. Why do you sound like that?” Byulyi chuckled at the sudden wistful tone of Yongsun’s voice.

“I just . . . feel bad. I’m missing your game tonight and we didn’t get to spend much time together at all this weekend.”

“Yeah, because you were out partying. Neglected me.”

“Stop,” Yongsun playfully slapped her arm. “I already feel horrible. Don’t say stuff like that,” the older woman pouted.

“How about we have dinner tonight then? You and me. We can go to one of the small shops up the block. It’s not much, but–”

“That’s perfect,” she assured Moonbyul, stepping in to wrap her arms tightly around the athlete’s waist. “I know how tired you are and how tired you’re going to be later so I really appreciate you offering that. Thank you.”

“Of course. Anything for you.” And she meant that. In none of her previous relationships did Byulyi feel as strongly as she did in this work-in-progress with Yongsun. It wasn’t only the acts of care they did for each other, it was their: dynamic, chemistry, conversations, equally childish senses of humor, everything. For the most part, all of it clicked and, in over a year and a half, had yet to stop clicking. Byulyi wanted and needed Yongsun to reach her goals as badly as the athlete wanted and needed to meet her own. Mentally and emotionally, that’s where Byulyi was. Wholly invested.

The tender moment continued as, surprisingly, Yongsun angled her head upwards for a kiss, one that Byulyi happily offered in the form of a quick peck. However, aware of the time, and, more pressing, worried that swept up in the emotion of things she’d speak life to feelings strong enough to scare Yongsun away, Byulyi put an end to it.

“Can you hurry up and grow taller, please? It’s starting to hurt my back having to bend down all the time to reach you.”

“Okay, I’m over you now. You can leave. Thanks,” Yongsun pointed towards the door.

“At least be a proper host and walk me out.”

“You’re here too often to still be considered a guest. That means no guest privileges.”

“Anyway! I’m ready to leave. Thank you in advance for walking me out.”

It normally took only seconds to get from the bedroom to the apartment door, if even that. Hand-in-hand and stopping every few steps for this and that, it took the pair several minutes. Once they did reach their destination, both idled, neither fully invested in separating for the handful of hours they’d be apart.

“So . . .” Yongsun started.

“Mmhmm,” came Byulyi’s dopey smile as Yongsun turned to face her.

“Have a good game today.”

“Thank you.”

“And be safe.”

“I’ll try.”

“Go be . . . Moon Byulyi. Yeah?”

“What does that even mean? Are you still drunk from last night?”

“Shut up! It means . . . like . . . go lead your team and be good at all that sports stuff like you always do.”

“Oh, okay,” the athlete responded softly.

“Okay,” Yongsun smiled back.

Who knows how much longer them saying nothing of substance could have lasted if not for the doorbell interrupting. Mid-smile, Yongsun carelessly swung the door open, not bothering to check who it was.

“Oh! Jinyoung. Hi.” Byulyi heard the name before he came into view but the effect was the same—mood instantly deflated.

“Hey. Hi. Is Changsub here? He messaged me a while back saying he was on the way.”

“Haven’t heard from him. I’m pretty sure you’re the first to arrive. Come on in.” Allowing him space to enter, Yongsun stepped away from the door, backing into Byulyi’s chest in the process. They stayed so, Yongsun standing in front of her while making small talk with Jinyoung until Chorong finally joined them and took over hosting and welcoming duties. All the while Byulyi’s left hand and Yongsun’s right remained joined. Obscured from Chorong and Jinyoung’s view, but joined, nonetheless.

It felt significant but Byulyi held off on attaching any meaning to it yet as it was possible that Yongsun simply forgot their fingers were interlocked because she was swept up in everything else. As such, the senior just stood there while the other three chatted. Left hand in Yongsun’s. Right hand strained from holding onto her duffel bag for as long as it’d been. Not speaking. Trying to fade into the background and not draw any attention to herself. Because she knew. The longer she was in this room, the greater likelihood there was for things to turn left.

Heartrate picking up with each passing second, the younger woman grew restless and tense. All efforts to secretly grab Yongsun’s attention proved futile—she and Chorong were deep in conversation about when their food order was due to arrive while Jinyoung hovered near the apartment’s entrance mostly listening to them coordinate last-minute details. Well, until Yongsun absentmindedly stepped forward a bit, leaving their joined hands visible to the young man for the first time since his arrival. At that point, all he then did was stare, eyes silently, and swiftly bouncing back and forth between Byulyi and a still unsuspecting Yongsun. His presence pissed Byulyi off. He pissed Byulyi off.

Thinking rationally, there was nothing wrong with the man. By all accounts, he was a nice guy. In the truest sense of that phrase. Wheein, Hyejin, even Chorong, had only positive things to say about him.  The few times that he and Byulyi interacted, Jinyoung was courteous. It was true that she thought him to be boring and bland but, thinking rationally, neither of those were criminal offences, and his perceived lack of personality wasn’t enough to explain why Byulyi disliked him as much as she did. It’s why the athlete preferred to not think rationally. Interrogating the animosity toward Jinyoung only revealed that her issue with him wasn’t an issue with him at all.

He asked Yongsun to be his girlfriend, Yongsun said yes. Byulyi asked Yongsun to be in a relationship, the graduate student hemmed, hawed, and found new ways to say no without saying no. That wasn’t Jinyoung’s fault.

That being said, it was easier being annoyed with him and upset at him than it was with the woman she was actually frustrated with. It was easier making Jinyoung a villain than it was accepting that all signs pointed toward her fighting a losing battle and waiting for a day with Yongsun that didn’t look like it was coming. Disliking Jinyoung was easier than considering that maybe Yongsun didn’t want her as much as Yongsun said she did or as much as the older woman’s actions hinted that she did.

The inner musings only lasted seconds but that was long enough for Yongsun to finally notice Byulyi’s silence and Jinyoung’s still-wandering eyes. In a way, it was funny—Byulyi watching Yongsun watch Jinyoung. And, in a way, the younger woman already knew what Yongsun’s response would be to the awkward situation they found themselves in, but that didn’t make what was to come hurt any less.

“Jinyoung, you’re still holding that bag? Let me take that from you.”

In a flash, Yongsun freed her fingers from Byulyi’s to fuss over the contents of the plastic bag Jinyoung held onto. Honestly, very well executed, but that, too, was not a surprise. The graduate student was very good at many things, including making Byulyi feel foolish for consistently buying into her promises for their future.

All Byulyi could do was laugh, which she did. Softly.

“What’s so funny?” Chorong asked in earnest, oblivious to the mess brewing in front of her.

“Nothing,” the senior shook her head with a wry smile. “Anyway, I’m going to head out now. Chorong, for like the fiftieth time, happy birthday. Have fun today.”

“Thank you! I think now is as good a time as any to mention that you have yet to give me my gift, but I assume it’s coming.”

“Sure, let’s assume that,” Byulyi chuckled genuinely this time.

“Chorong, take care of the things in this bag. I’m going to walk Byulyi out.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see myself out,” she tersely responded without looking Yongsun’s way or waiting for a response.

*

“Look who it is. You’ve been gone so long I forgot I even had a roommate.”

“Not now, Heeyeon. I’m not in the mood.”

“Uh oh. Trouble in paradise?”

“If you’re just going to ing make jokes, you can leave.”

Byulyi hadn’t given much thought to anything in the time it took her to hightail it out of Yongsun’s apartment and barge into her own. Ears ringing after slamming the doors to her apartment and bedroom and recklessly tossing her bags at the first opportunity, the athlete was startled when someone gently tapped on her door before entering without waiting for a response. Heeyeon.

Knowing that humor was the pair’s primary love language, it was understandable that jokes would be her roommate’s first words to her. There was no way for Heeyeon to know there was absolutely nothing funny about what was going on.

A restless Byulyi paced back and forth, vibrating with fury.

“What happened?”

“More of the same,” she sighed. “I really don’t even want to get into it. I think I’m just going to go to the arena early. Get some shots up and forget this whole thing.”

“You’re going to go in five hours early, Byulyi? Be realistic. Whatever the two of you fought about— I’m assuming it was a fight with Yongsun-unnie—can’t be that bad.”

“Okay,” the senior coldly shot back. The more she thought about it, the more appealing heading to the arena early sounded. Physically distancing herself right now seemed a potential solution to slow down the thoughts she was drowning in. Rushing to the duffel bag she carelessly threw into a corner, Byulyi rifled through its contents, flinging anything not basketball related in the direction of her bed. Night clothes, extra t-shirts, sweatpants meant for lounging around, spare underwear. She’d deal with them later.

“Look, you’re not telling me anything about what happened so I can’t even begin to help. But I will say this, the two of you have your moments where you get into a disagreement, then you eventually resolve it. That’s how it goes, that’s how the two of you work. Don’t stress this too much, it’ll be fine.”

Not as confident about that, Byulyi stayed quiet and continued organizing her bag as Heeyeon hovered near the door at the foot of the bed. Their attention was drawn to the pocket of Byul’s shorts minutes later once vibrations resounded through the stillness and stuffiness of the room.

Sighing, Byulyi pulled the phone out with a roll of her eyes. She already knew who it was.

From: Yong

Have you eaten yet? 1:13 pm

Obviously not, she thought while rolling her eyes again. Only about 10 minutes passed since leaving the older women’s apartment. When would she have had time to eat? That beating around the bush led to a spike in already-overflowing irritation. The phone was flung onto the bed just like the items before it.

“Was that Yongsun-unnie? If so, don’t be like that Byulyi. If she’s trying to talk to you, hear her out.”

“Whose side are you even on?” The athlete snapped.

“I’m on the side of peace,” Heeyeon countered, never one to back down at her friend’s bark. “When the two of you are on good terms, life is less complicated for everyone else in your lives.”

Caving, the brunette trudged to the bed, noticing a new message.

From: Yong

Byul-ah. Please. 1:14 pm

To: Yong

No. I haven’t eaten. 1:15 pm

From: Yong

The food was delivered. I’ll make you a plate and bring it over. We have a lot.

Is Heeyeon there? 1:15 pm

To: Yong

Yes. 1:15 pm

From: Yong

I’ll make one for her, too 1:16 pm

To: Yong

k. 1:16 pm

“She’s coming over and bringing food for us.”

“Love her!”

“Mmm,” the younger of the two grunted noncommittally.

“Stop, you love her, too. Like, love her, love her,” Heeyeon nudged.

No comment came from Byulyi and no more attempts at conversation came from Heeyeon. The latter remained in her friend’s room though, sending worried glances the athlete’s way.

Not long later, the sound of the doorbell floated into the bedroom. Byulyi’s inaction prompted Heeyeon to step up, stating out loud that she’d get it. Maybe it was obvious her roommate needed the extra seconds to collect herself.

“Don’t be too hard on her, Byulyi.” Not meant as humorous in the slightest, the athlete chuckled darkly at Heeyeon’s last words to her because when was she ever hard on Yongsun? It was one of Wheein and Hyejin’s favorite running jokes—trying to find things that Byulyi would get upset and stay upset at Yongsun over. They’d yet to land on one.

“Hey,” Yongsun greeted warily after two gentle raps against the bedroom door. “I left the food in the kitchen for you. Heeyeon already took hers.” With Byulyi sifting through her closet, the older woman’s words were spoken into a void. “Can we talk, please?” She timidly asked. Very rarely did Yongsun speak as hesitantly as she was now, an indication, Byulyi thought, that she knew the events earlier left a sour taste in the athlete’s mouth.

But she was here. Attempting to work through this. That was better than nothing.

Fingers paused against the felt-like fabric of a forgotten navy blue peacoat, Byulyi inhaled and exhaled deeply, finding odd comfort in the way the action tickled her nostrils. Turning to finally face Yongsun, Byulyi took time to study her—yet to cross the room’s threshold, looking as cute as ever in her hunter green sweatpants and baggy cropped tan sweater. Awaiting permission to enter, it seemed. Silently gesturing with her hands for Yongsun to come in, the graduate student did just that. Looking as if she were afraid Byulyi would change her mind about that any moment now, the blonde scurried in, making sure to gently close the door behind her.

Back muscles digging into the closed door and arms folded across her chest, Byulyi remained quiet, waiting for Yongsun to situate herself in the desk chair across the room, after which brown eyes locked with brown eyes. Accusation swimming in one pair, shame in the other, as a fog of tension gradually filled the room around them.

If something was going to be said, Yongsun would have to be the one to say it.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” To her credit, Yongsun maintained eye contact while speaking.

“Done what?” It wasn’t playing dumb, it was a deep desire revealing itself to make Yongsun work for this. To make her say outright what needed to be said. To address the elephant that lived in every room the two of them entered.

“Pulled my hand away. I’m sorry,” came the soft confession.

“You always are.” A deep sigh traveled from across the room as Byulyi looked away.

“And I always mean it. Look, I’m trying, Byulyi.”

A bitter laugh followed by a skeptical, “Are you?”

“Really? You’re upset right now, I understand that, but don’t dismiss my effort. That’s unfair.”

“Unfair? Don’t talk to me about unfair, Yongsun.” Byulyi scoffed.

“Yes, unfair,” the older woman spoke defiantly. “Being unhappy because we aren’t calling ourselves what you’d prefer we call ourselves is one thing. Implying that I’m giving no effort is something else entirely.”

“No, Yongsun, I’m not unhappy about labels right now. I’m disappointed and hurt that hand-holding—in front of a guy you said was not an issue—was too much for you. After everything we’ve been through together, especially this past week, you couldn’t even do that. People hold hands all the time and it means nothing. He could’ve very well thought nothing of it, but you made it an issue.”

As Yongsun defended the idea that Jinyoung being a non-issue was the very reason she didn’t want to explain anything to him, Byulyi countered that if he were truly a non-issue, the graduate student wouldn’t have reacted the way she did in his presence. Their argument continued, each new word uttered, huffed, or shouted illuminating for the younger that this wasn’t a new conversation. It was a new day, a new “small thing” that forced them to address their precarious relationship, but it was the same roadblock the pair constantly attempted to creatively push through. And each had their reason for wanting what they wanted—Yongsun wanted time; Byulyi, something tangible sooner rather than later—but the rational reasoning each believed she held didn’t change the fact that their desires were at odds with each other. Their wants conflicted from the beginning and would continue to do so until something changed.

If something was going to be said, Yongsun would have to be the one to say it.

The older woman did her part. Said what she felt she needed to say. But none of what Yongsun said indicated a change in the order of things. Thus, if something was going to change, Byulyi realized she had to be the one to change it.

“We’re hitting a wall, Yong,” she mumbled exasperatedly palms rubbing eyes. Yongsun was in the middle of speaking when Byulyi cut her off, but the words weighed heavy on her chest. Holding them in any longer wasn’t an option. A waterfall of consonants and vowels poured from her lips, forming words and sentences that couldn’t be stopped. “The same wall. Over and over. I thought it was something we could push through, but it’s brick. We can’t push through that. No matter how much we’d like to, no matter how often we try. Not right now, I don’t think.”

Byulyi watched as a bevy of emotions flitted across Yongsun’s face, one of which was understanding. She leaned back in the wooden chair with hands folded in her lap. “I think we both said a lot and I think there’s a lot more to be said. For now, I’m willing to go back to my apartment and hold your hand, that’s not a problem. I can do that for you. But if we’re going to continue this conversation, we should do it later before we say things we don’t mean.”

Later, a point in time that never came for them. Everything swept under the rug for ‘later’ remained there. Under the rug. Never acknowledged.

“It’s not about holding my hand, Yong! It’s about why it took all of this,” arms flailed about in frustration, “for you to be willing to consider it. It’s about why it took me being pissed off about a comment at dinner with my family on Friday for you to tell our best friends that you and I are more than just friends—something that anyone that sees us can tell. It’s about why it takes being backed into a corner for you to give a little when I am ready at all times to give you everything. And . . . I don’t know. Sometimes I can tell how you feel about me, but other times I can’t. And that stings because I think it’s pretty clear in everything I say and do that I love you. There’s no doubt there.”

A lot to dump on someone at once—including the first time those words were spoken out loud—but it was a lot of what plagued Byulyi in the months post-confession. Half steps forward only came after major conflict. Yongsun was always willing to soften her stance, something the younger woman did acknowledge and appreciate, but it shouldn’t have had to take all the pleading and fighting that it did to get to make the incremental progress they did.

This was supposed to be easy. They were supposed to be easy. On paper, in person, they passed all the eye tests. They fit in ways many longed for. And yet.

Heart still pounding, ears still ringing, it took time to come down from the sheer emotion released. She could breathe, though. Byulyi’s head was clearer, her heart lighter.

“So, what are you saying?” Yongsun brought her back to the present, a plug to Byulyi’s drain of thoughts. The voice that asked was even, no hint of hysteria. Who knows if Yongsun’s facial features told a different story. Moonbyul wasn’t looking. Bubble of confidence leaking suddenly, her tongue poked at the ridges of her cheek while her eyes landed on the scattered clothes piled on her bed. Looking anywhere except for Yongsun would do, otherwise, the chances of taking all her words back were high.

“I think we should take a break.”

“From?” An immediate call for clarity. Or maybe a challenge to actually say it the way Byulyi earlier challenged Yongsun. Either way, Byulyi held firm.

“Each other.” Her eyes touched everything in that bedroom except for Yongsun’s face but she felt the intensity of the graduate student’s glare boring into her own.

Seconds passed like molasses, each one tempting Byulyi more than the one before to do something. At least sixty of those excruciating seconds must have passed when her resolve crumbled and it was decided that she’d finally look Yongsun in her eyes and further explain the rationale behind the request for separation. Anything to hopefully dilute the tension suffocating her.

But Yongsun acted first.

“Okay.” Composed and calm.

That was it. The blonde didn’t let her words sit in the air for even a second before standing from her chair and making to exit. Byulyi stepped away from the door to grant Yongsun enough space to do so, all the while unfulfilled by the anticlimactic ending. Not that she hoped for a more volatile scene—Byulyi had no idea what she expected, she hadn’t even expected to say what she said—but the lack of emotion left her unsettled. Part of it was that their relationship was too heavy, too significant, to end as easily as it seemed it was ending. Some pushback was warranted, no? In the immediate, though, most of why she felt unsettled boiled down to this: Yongsun’s lack of emotion left Byulyi with too much emotion.

For hours after the older’s scent faded from the bedroom, Byulyi took up the same chair the older women earlier occupied and thought. Their thread of text message open, several iterations of an “I didn’t mean it, let’s meet for dinner later to figure this out” text were drafted, one coming close to being sent. Because the more Byulyi thought, the more it just didn’t make sense for them to end like that, and the guiltier she felt for being its genesis. She was the one that suggested the break, her words the ones that prompted this.

Yongsun, Byul speculated, either gave up as easily as she did because she didn’t care or because she found it futile to fight a decision that was already made, neither option doing much to reassure younger that she handled things properly or made the best decision.

No semblance of peace rescued her from the flames of guilt singeing her insides until much later that day, an hour before the Conference Championship game began. Going through the motions of greeting arena staff, teammates, and coaches, Byulyi was still mentally back in her bedroom, playing the conversation with Yongsun on a loop.

Sitting at her locker, she blocked out the frenetic energy typical of a pregame locker room as she always did—with her ‘gameday’ playlist blaring in her ears. A rap song that she intentionally added months ago because it made her think of Yongsun began playing. And, well, it served its purpose and made her think of Yongsun. Or, this time around, made her think about their breaku–, about their newly minted break and the conversation that led to it.

“It’s about why it takes being backed into a corner for you to give a little when I am ready at all times to give you everything.”

Scanning through all that they said to each other, it was that line that unexpectedly and instantly helped Byulyi feel at ease with the choices she made earlier because it was the truth. For the duration of their time as more than friends, Yongsun was adamant about wanting time to think things through. As it turned out, Byulyi finally realized and accepted, the graduate student didn’t want time, she needed time. And if there was one thing about Moon Byulyi, she was ready at all times to give Kim Yongsun everything. Especially the things she needed. This was no different.

Note: Many people left comments wondering how long Byulyi would wait. We finally got an answer to that—2 months (yes, from her confession to the events of this chapter, only 2 months have passed in the story [end of December to the first week of March]).

Fun fact: the “we should take a break” scene was one of the first I ever wrote for this story. Had no idea I’d be sitting on it for over a year.

Fun fact #2: I don't even care if only one person reads this chapter in part and dumps it, it feels so good to be back for now and have a new chapter posted. Can't even put it into words. I hope that you all have been doing well.