The sun’s rays, penetrating through the apartment’s glass windows, conveniently rested on the left side of Chaeyoung’s face. The heat was uncomfortable enough to wake her up.

Chaeyoung opens her eyes, and immediately dread fills her chest. The sun is directly in front of her face and it almost hurts. It’s a new day, but nothing has changed. It’s the same mechanical routine everyday that she barely has to think anymore- which is a good thing. Thinking is miserable and complicated.

She pours herself cereal every morning, turns on the television to simulate a busy, productive, or synonymously fulfilling day, then she dresses herself up, and leaves her apartment for class.

//

Chaeyoung tries her best not to look up when she walks. She follows the blocks on the pavement and tries not to step on the lines, skipping if she has to. It’s relatively easy.

But it’s a bit more difficult on some days, so she tries harder, too. She tries to lift her head stiffly, not looking anywhere else but straight, vision not wandering anywhere else. All for justifying ignorance, feigning stability-- but most of all: avoidance.

It’s funny, because when the campus is empty on random times and Chaeyoung feels like she can actually breathe, she looks up. The campus is actually really beautiful, so it’s impossible not to; there are trees hovering on the sides, obviously decades old; buildings donated by powerful figures all for the sake of knowledge, advocacy, prestige…

This was all Chaeyoung’s dream just 2 years ago; 2 years ago, this was everything she had wanted. But thinking about it now just makes her knees feel weak, and it’s nothing but pathetic.

She still vividly remembers filling out her college application forms with Tzuyu, and it seemed like a dream. Of course college seemed like a dream back then, especially because they had been undergoing the most pressure they had known at the time: entrance exams, uncertainty, the looming feeling of growing up, and more… But it’s truly laughable in retrospect.

It’s hilarious, even. Chaeyoung remembers the bittersweet moment she had given Tzuyu a polaroid picture of them both with a letter she had handwritten herself at the back of it, back when everybody thought that Tzuyu would go back to Taiwan for college. Chaeyoung had written, ‘It might be scary, but I believe in you! Do great things in Taiwan, and I hope you’ll never forget me because I won’t forget you either <3’

“This is embarrassing. I was only going to give it to you because I thought you were going back to Taiwan for college, but you’re not.” Chaeyoung meekly said, avoiding Tzuyu’s eyes at the time. “Uh, you can have it if you want.”

And so Tzuyu did. She got the picture. There was an unreadable look on her face as she looked at the polaroid. “You really think we’re still going to be this close in college?” Tzuyu was filled with uncertainty about the future, and admittedly, insecure about it. (But Chaeyoung realizes now that her astonishment was a mix of flatter and cynicism.)

“Um, yeah!?”

It’s so funny, Chaeyoung chuckled to herself. Look where they are now.

It’s easy to think of Tzuyu in retrospect, because that Tzuyu was the Tzuyu Chaeyoung felt she knew. There is a special place in our hearts for old friends and shared memories, especially of vulnerability. But the present was an entirely different thing. It was so difficult now, in so many ways– but the difficulty was something Chaeyoung couldn’t even grapple with; neither can she simply encapsulate it in words, because the pain was much too strong. The thought of Tzuyu loomed over her in almost every living moment, and Chaeyoung could not do anything about it. She was upset the moment she woke up, and it was only the day’s fatigue and tiredness that brought her to sleep everyday.

There’s a part of her that wants Tzuyu to know all of this out of spite, to proudly say, ‘Look what you did to me!’. But there’s another part of her that remains fearful of facing Tzuyu, lest she gets rejected, or shamed, or anything of the like, because Chaeyoung knows she herself isn’t completely faultless, either. But it’s still kind of silly, because how can you get rejected by somebody you are no longer associated with?

And it’s hard to swallow that she’s no longer associated with Tzuyu. How can you suddenly let go of somebody you had known so intimately? The small details that one would only discover in the deepest recesses of friendship, how can one simply discard those pieces of information, or disregard that as simple facts? Knowing how Tzuyu liked her coffee done, or what she felt about her parents in Taiwan, or perfectly recognizing the scent of her clothes, because they would stick to Chaeyoung’s bed after every sleepover, or having seen Tzuyu cry, and thus knowing her even in weakness and ness… those were not the same as knowing Tzuyu’s birthday, or her blood type, or even Tzuyu’s favorite songs. Those were things that you filled in information cards, or on application forms! But interpersonal relationships did not surface on, or do not include application forms, because things of the heart do not have direct entrances; unfortunately, and inversely, it is because things of the heart have no end either.

It is moments of Chaeyoung’s carelessness when she thinks about it the most, when she looks from side to side even when the corridors and stairs are filled with people, students going up, or down to their classes, and she sees Tzuyu.

Tzuyu with her college classmates, laughing with abandon, the same way Chaeyoung used to make her do so. Chaeyoung’s mind freezes during every accidental, unfortunate encounter, and her heart races, and she nearly hyperventilates, but it’s something she keeps to herself, looking at the ground only, functioning on autopilot, despite the clawing feeling inside her stomach. (But that is where mechanisms come in handy). Afterwards, Chaeyoung wonders to herself if they really do make Tzuyu laugh the way she does.

She hates the effect Tzuyu has on her, because it really is such agony. And to an extent, she guesses she hates Tzuyu for it, too. But she keeps it to herself, because it would be embarrassing to let Tzuyu know of the power she still had over Chaeyoung. People talk about miniature angels or devils hovering over our shoulders, but it seems that all Chaeyoung has is a living snapshot of Tzuyu on her own. Chaeyoung remembers their biggest (and last) fight, and Tzuyu had really shut her down and out- probably because she was utterly tired of Chaeyoung’s , although understandably.

“Chaeyoung, just stop.”

“I’m sorry, I’m stupid, Tzuyu. I’m sorry,”

“You’re not stupid, Chaeng. It’s just the way you are. Goodbye.”

But Chaeyoung begged, because she couldn’t believe it- she stalled Tzuyu’s farewell as if it were a sticky situation, even when it was Tzuyu’s decision from the start that Chaeyoung could not do anything about. But still, Chaeyoung cried, letting go of whatever initial pride she initially had. Chaeyoung remembered having asked stupid questions like, “Before you leave, can you please give me advice?” But Tzuyu had refused, probably knowing Chaeyoung well enough to recognize that it was simply Chaeyoung stalling. Truly, it was one of the sharpest pains to think about, but Chaeyoung likes to make herself feel better when she tells herself, “Whatever, it’s not like I would have followed that advice, anyway.”

Chaeyoung could barely sleep that night, and no tears would even come out. She had a math final the day after, and Tzuyu was in her head the whole time as she thought, solved, and wrote.

Chaeyoung swears she’ll get over it, but seeing Tzuyu around campus was enough to ruin her day- quite literally. It’s hard to have to take a breather every time you simply see somebody: to sit down and catch your breath, while feeling your heart beating rapidly, still. It’s also difficult to make yourself feel better when their eyes are filled with spite and anger towards you during accidental, and unfortunate encounters, and all you can do is feel helpless.

//

When Chaeyoung gets back home, it’s the same routine again. She takes off her shoes before she enters the living room. She skips on dinner; she’s too tired. But it’s Saturday tomorrow, and Chaeyoung wonders what she can do. Maybe paint a bit, write a bit- Mina had said those were great things to do for somebody grieving. (She didn’t actually tell Chaeyoung that, since Chaeyoung mostly keeps to herself. She had only overheard Mina tell Jungyeon that.)

She gets into bed and opens her phone. It is the last thing she sees in the day, and the first. But tonight, she opens her photo gallery, sliding her fingers over memories of joy, sorrow, nostalgia. She decides to delete her photos with Tzuyu in them, erasing every trace. Now, Tzuyu will seem like a mere remnant in her life, in those wonderful years that had come to an end.

Chaeyoung’s heart hasn’t fallen, still feeling like it’s in tact in her chest. So maybe Jihyo was right.

Perhaps she is getting there, after all.