Hyejin likes days off.

Work days are long and pile more stress onto the stress she already carries with her, but it’s more bearable with her friends, who are in the same position.

She can laze around her apartment with no makeup or pants and cook whatever she wants without being judged for dropping it onto herself or her bed. If she wants to dance wildly to songs on her laptop, she can, although it’s more fun with her friends. If she wants to poorly sing along with classic opera, she can, although it’s more fun with her friends.

Being by herself, now, after so long of living in her family home or the dorm, always with other people, she relished the freedom and still does, but there are moments of sudden static quiet that fog over her feet and creep up her body to fill her ears like cotton, and then she can only hear the thud of her own heart and the whisper of her breath.

It’s dreadful.

It doesn’t usually last, though, broken by a new song or a program on TV or the ding of a timer telling her the food is done.

This time, it’s her phone buzzing with a notification. After a photo of her floppy-eared cat lying upside-down with its head hanging off the bed, Wheein asks if she wants to meet up at a coffee shop. They just each other literal hours ago, but Hyejin agrees immediately and tosses her phone into her messy blankets, rooting around for something easy and comfy to pull on that won’t draw too much attention.

After some pretty plain makeup that gets covered by a mask, anyway, she draws a beanie over her hair, wraps a scarf around her face and neck, zips up some heavy boots, and bids goodbye to her plush lion as she leaves.

She almost goes right back inside; it’s freezing outside. February has no business being so cold. Opting for a cab rather than the bus, she makes it before Wheein and refuses to wait outside.

Opening the door, she’s blasted with hot air that thaws her icy legs and cheeks.

The whole group knows of and likes this coffee shop. It has white walls and dark paneling that matches the flooring and tables. Exposed Edison bulbs hang from long black wires with fake vines snaking down and casting soft light that creates a cozy ambiance.

A pop song plays softly over the speakers, a hopeful bubblegum tune about love. It’s catchy, and the music video playing on one of the three televisions hanging on the wall is pink and pretty cute. Just another mindless, uninspired number cranked out to keep a group relevant.

After ordering the recommended drink of the day, Hyejin finds a booth a little out of the way but still in sight of the door.

The drink is pretty gross in a bland sort of way. Too much salt and not enough caramel.

The guy at the far table looks similar. He’s scowling at his laptop like it’s insulting his mother. Hyejin feels bad for the young woman across from him, stirring the ice in her cup and looking around the shop, glancing at him before looking away again. Probably had a fight.

Wheein sends an animated emoji of a character running fast. Hyejin sets her phone face-down on the table and chews her straw.

A couple of older women sit close together, looking down their readers at the yarn projects in their hands. They bump shoulders and laugh, the sound carrying clearly to Hyejin’s spot. She thinks they look alike. Siblings or cousins.

She pulls her legs up and lets her scarf pool in her lap. She’s still safe with the plain face mask, anyway.

The cafe door jingles as it opens—the salary man holds it open for a couple of young women entering. Sisters, friends, lovers, coworkers, strangers conveniently walking to the same place at the same time…

She misses the suspiciously bundled person catching the door and skipping inside.

“Hey!” Hyejin jumps and groans when Wheein just smiles. “Whatcha drinking? Anything good?”

“No. Get me a tea.”

Wheein unwinds her scarf with a laugh. “Get your own tea!”

“I’m keeping our spot. And you’re already up.”

Her best friend sticks out her tongue. “What kind?”

“Anything but black.”

“Okay, something sweet for my sweetie.” Hyejin blows her a kiss and slouches a little, pushing her gross drink aside.

There’s a man and woman about her parents’ age sitting by the window. Rather than across from each other, they side on the same side and share a paper and slice of cake. They don’t seem to be talking at all. Just enjoying each other’s company or engrossed in the written stories.

It’s no surprise when Wheein returns sipping both drinks. “I wasn’t sure what I wanted, but I narrowed it down to two.”

“And—” she grins a little at the cup passed to her— “it’s very pink.”

“Hibiscus! Try it.”

Ice cubes clink together and against the plastic cup. “You didn’t want something hot? Because it’s freezing out?”

“Nah.” She scoots farther onto the bench seat and sits with her legs stretched out towards the room. “You’d be warmer if you wore pants, anyway.”

“Couldn't be bothered.” Hyejin sees the hem of bright flannel under Wheein’s jeans. Pajamas.

Wheein brings a pen from her pocket and starts to doodle on a napkin, keeping her lips on the drink straw without drinking.

Another order is called out. Hyejin thinks she recognizes the boy but doesn’t say anything. They get so few chances to just be a nameless part of a crowd; she can’t ruin that.

Another small cluster of people enters the shop. It could be a double date, boys and girls walking side-by-side rather than girls before boys. They can’t be older than high school. Only one couple is holding hands. The others could be newly together or not together at all.

“Hyejinnie.”

“Huh?”

“You okay? You’re chewing that poor straw to death.”

A mom finally crouches down at her son’s incessant whining and tugging at her jacket to pick him up, taking her order with a strained smile. Nothing like taking the reason for caffeine along on the caffeine run. “It’s nothing.”

Wheein hums.

“Really.”

“Hey, didja see you’re topping the Gaon charts this week?” She shoots double finger guns. “Both digital and social charts.”

“I saw.” Hyejin cried when she saw the results. She’s probably cried more during her solo stint than the whole of their last comeback. “Must’ve done something right.”

“Or they really like your plastic bag outfit. Repped all us trash.” Wheein flinches and laughs when Hyejin tries to kick her under the table. She crosses her legs and shifts to face Hyejin. “So what’re you thinking about?”

Sometimes, Wheein is just like a dog, sensing emotions and trying her best to make them happy or keep them happy. It’s a great trait in a friend, because she is the right amount of pushy.

“Love,” Hyejin remarks carelessly. She wipes away the ring of condensation with her hand, pulling down her sleeve to clean up the wet smear.

“Oh ho?”

“Not like that. Please. With what spare time? Just, like, what even is love?” Song after song and movie after movie are about how amazing love is or how much it or dreaming about being in love. None ever actually really explain what it is.

According to a web search, the Greeks believe in eight types of love: unconditional love, romantic love, affectionate love, self-love, familiar love, enduring love, playful love, and obsessive love. She understands the adjectives. All but one sound nice, in theory. The fundamental love, though, is like something that everyone is just supposed to know, and Hyejin doesn’t.

She’s not entirely sure why she wants to know. It’s actually rather annoying. There are better things to think about, especially when her options and opportunities for love are limited to her work and work-related circles.

“Seriously?” Hyejin nods, and Wheein up the dregs of her drink, not caring about the obnoxious noise. “Well, I think it’s different for everyone.”

A cop-out answer. “Are you even trying to help?”

Wheein sticks out her tongue. “Just hear me out. Like…I love you, you know.”

“Where’s the evidence?” Wheein whines and swats at her across the table. I’m trying to help! The evidence is in their years of friendship and the matching ink tattooed into their skin. They’re both readily aware.

“I love you,” she continues, “but it’s different from wanting to marry or date you.”

“Okay. So what’s the difference?” Hyejin cups her chin on her hand. “We’ve already kissed. We hold hands all the time. We’ll sleep together. We’re together more often than not. Sometimes you’re even the last person I think about before going to sleep.” She put a heart and puppy and cat emojis surrounding Wheein’s name in her phone, too.

Wheein laughs brightly, cheeks flushed. Maybe from embarrassment; maybe from pleasure; maybe from the warmth of the cafe after the icy outside air. It’s cute. Wheein is very cute. “You have a point!” Once she calms down, she’s still smiling. “I think love, whatever it is, is something that makes you not feel lonely… But I dunno. I could be wrong. Could be right. Different things for different people. I guess it’s possible to never know, but it’s something we still want.” She shrugs and kind of smiles, apologetic. “We’ll know it when we find it? Does that help? You seem pretty into this…”

Hyejin shakes her head curtly, dropping her chin onto her hand. “Not really.” She knows Wheein will if she admits her juvenile frustration, but she also knows the teasing would never be unkind. She’s just not in the mood. “Thank you, though. That was more of an answer than I was expecting from you,” she finishes with a hint of wonder to her voice.

“I’m no dummy, Hyejinnie!” Wheein declares proudly.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Wheein scoffs and tries to kick her under the table, barely grazing her knee. They hurriedly catch their drinks and phones before they travel too far, blushing at the clatter that draws a few curious looks.

They finish their drinks. Wheein tucks her doodles into her pocket to be added to her sketchbook at home. Hyejin ties her friend’s scarf in a sloppy bow behind her head.

Outside, they shiver in tandem. There’s a convenience store at the end of the block, and Hyejin declares they’ll take a cab back to her building afterwards.

Still thinking about Hyejin’s question, Wheein says, “Whatever it is, just know that I love you.” Her hand closes around Hyejin’s mitten, and she thinks she can feel the warmth even through the knit. “And you love me, too, right? Of course you do.”

Hyejin smiles and squeezes her hand, swinging their arms. “Yeah.”

So, this is love.

a/n: Written for https://twitter.com/kpop_olymfics">K-Pop Olymfics 2019 as part of Team Canon/AR/Future 2. prompt: Twice – "What is Love?"

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