Hitomi is a morning person.

Chaewon is nocturnal.

Weaving their days together sounds like a lot of effort,

but somewhere along the way, they make it work.

*

“Hey.”

The quiet whisper seeps into her dream, accompanied with a soothing brush over her head. Breaking the made-up reverie her idle brain conjures, but ever so softly, akin to witnessing the slow bloom of tulips at the start of spring instead of sharply prickling the bubble of her dream to watch it burst.

Slowly, Hitomi stirs, rousing from her dream only to melt into the familiar touch. “Chaewon-unnie,” she murmurs, eyes still closed and voice heavy with sleepiness.

“Yeah,” the person says quietly. There are fingers combing through her hair, gentle and slow in apology, “I’m sorry, but—are you terribly tired?”

She hums, a subtle stretch of her body accompanying the way her eyelids flutter open. The room is still dark, and it takes her a few seconds to adjust to what little light is present inside the room, until she can make out Chaewon’s expression next to the dimming light of their nightstand.

“Only a bit,” she answers, bringing herself to curl closer into where Chaewon is sitting at the edge of her bed, basking in the comfort of Chaewon’s fingers lightly massaging her scalp. A flicker of her eyes towards the clock tells her that it’s barely 3 am, and she reaches out to seek for the hand Chaewon’s not using to play with her hair, slowly entwining their fingers together—

“Trouble sleeping?” she asks, head turning slightly to catch Chaewon’s gaze.

“Mmm.” The combing fingers halt, making a turn to brush aside a tuft of hair from Hitomi’s face. “Work is done, but I can't sleep. Was… wondering if you’d fancy a drive around the town, but.”

And this is how they are.

A pair of roommates, with different body clocks, Hitomi sticking to a normal person’s sleeping cycle while Chaewon mixes up day and night time and time again,

but they make it work.

“Give me a moment,” she says, squeezing their linked hands. “I’ll be ready in five.”

*

The drive is quiet.

(Just the way they like it.)

The bustling city is for once in a lull, with no crowds nor traffic to pollute the road—and for a moment it feels like there’s only them with their car, the rest of the world fading into the background.

Sometimes they break into chats, about life, about friends, about the future, about the plans their landlord wants them to participate in this weekend, about everything—and nothing—at all.

Sometimes they turn the radio on, hopping between channels and finding out new songs, jamming together and cracking up at some lyrics too ridiculous to listen to when the sun is still asleep.

Sometimes they’re content with silence; Chaewon driving and taking in the quiet streets, Hitomi gazing up at the scattered stars and trying to trace their names in the constellations—

*

And sometimes it’s like this:

“You should’ve said no,” Chaewon murmurs, and Hitomi slowly opens her eyes, unaware that she’s had them closed at some point in time. The car is parked next to a closed stand they frequent for the delicious rolls of kimbap, thirty minutes early to their opening time.

Chaewon smells so near even when she’s sitting still on the driver seat, and Hitomi looks down, blinking when she finds a pink jacket draped over her chest, Chaewon’s perfume wafting softly from the thick fabric.

“I wouldn’t take it personally if you’re too tired to go out,” Chaewon says, and when Hitomi turns to look at her, a hand has already reached out to pinch her cheek. A smile, a little exasperated and a lot more fond, “You’re making me feel bad.”

Hitomi slowly inhales, leaning back into her seat without shifting her gaze away. The pinching hand loosens, but the fingers don’t completely retreat. Chaewon holds in a breath, curled fingers opening to cup her cheek—

Hitomi smiles, and leans into her touch.

“Don’t feel bad,” she breathes out, “sometimes sleeps just matter less when it comes to you.”

And she says ‘sometimes’, but she means ‘almost all the time’. She says ‘sometimes’ and she means ‘on most days’, she says ‘sometimes’ and she means ‘I’ll choose you over and over.’

And usually—Chaewon will say thank you. Will pause over the shift in the air for the briefest moment, her gaze on Hitomi turning indescribable for the briefest second—

But she will retreat into herself, fingers falling away and back into her own person, cheeks dusted with faint red stemming from feelings Hitomi wishes to know of…

And there they will wait for the sun to rise from the horizon, waiting for the closed stall to finally open, bravery slipping through their fingers like the fading darkness on the sky.

*

(Only, today, it goes like this:

Chaewon still says a quiet thank you, still pauses over the bated breath that seems to always know that they’re in the cusp of something.

And for once, with the ticking seconds, she slowly moves,

forward.

Closer instead of away,

and the brush of Chaewon's lips over hers is everything her dreams have told her about—

Only warmer, softer, deeper.

A countless miles better, because even as her eyes flutter shut, she knows that she will still find Chaewon at the end of their kiss, the older girl for once not dispersing into thin air.)

*

It’s for this—

for the times where reality is more beautiful than the prettiest of dreams,

that Hitomi always chooses to be up with her whenever Chaewon comes by her bedside, looking for a trip around the city in place of a good night sleep.

Because a reality spent awake with her is something one sleep will never measure up to.

[ ♡ ]