It doesn’t matter who comes after. Jungeun will always be the best Haseul’s ever had.

The theme of the wedding is white and green. Jungeun wears red. She wouldn’t say it’s out of spite. It’s just really her color, a little birdie once told her. Granted Haseul was hyper-focused at the time. “Distracted” the woman would counter. Jungeun wasn’t wearing much red that night save for a layer on her lips and two garments of lace. It was a great time, back when she was blonde and Haseul’s tresses flowed down her back.

Here they are. Haseul greets the guests one table at a time, short hair swishing this way and that, her dress trailing behind her. Jungeun crosses her legs and leans forward. The emerald tablecloth scrunches up by her plate. She’s been wondering a lot lately.

Does Haseul still wear chapstick that tastes like watermelon?

Does her couch still sink further on one side than the other?

Does she still have to jam the fridge door into place with her shoulder?

Does Haseul still think about shutting the fridge with the force of her back, Jungeun bearing all of her weight until they stumbled to the kitchen counter because the shorter woman was too impatient to make it down the hall?

Jungeun grins. A tongue swipes over her teeth, feeling the tip of her canine hungrily. Her memory still burns bright. There’s no way Haseul hadn’t stored it away in the recesses of her mind. Haseul hides a lot of little secrets up there. Jungeun prides herself on unlocking them like bonus prizes.

Level One: Haseul doesn’t bark. She does bite. Jungeun savored the devilish red marks along her broad shoulders. Haseul’s mewls and whimpers, on the other hand, were angelic. They unraveled Jungeun in seconds. Not before Haseul came undone though. Never before.

Level Two: Haseul loves the cliche “opposites attract” in its most basic sense. Passionate nights played out in the heat of summer. Jungeun’s hands clawed down Haseul’s back, shockingly cold from digging around in the freezer. Haseul still wanted the ice cubes. Jungeun never made it easy, but she did make it fun. She’d place one between her teeth and challenge Haseul to get it herself. Then in the midst of winter when blizzards rattled the windows, Haseul gasped at Jungeun’s warm tongue on her freezing exposed neck.

Level Three: Beds were for slow dances, anywhere else was a thrill ride. College students loved to play high school games with alcohol aplenty. Spin the bottle always ended in something and intoxicating. Jungeun made a proposal at their third party. Seven Minutes in Heaven. She could do it in six. Bets were placed again and again, shaving off a precious ten seconds each time. Haseul paid out a lot. Jungeun’s sure the last one was the best four minutes and seventeen seconds of Haseul’s life, if how Jungeun had to carry her out bridal style was any indication.

Level Four: Haseul is the most assertive when wielding a can of whipped cream. Jungeun slyly took every opportunity to turn the tables until Haseul got rougher and Jungeun got to lose control. Jungeun’s eyes rolled back so many times, she never basked in the glory of being the manipulative one.

On second thought, Haseul got plenty of bonuses while she did all the work. Jungeun isn’t necessarily complaining.

The reception flows from dinner to the dance party. Haseul twirls around and the groom dips her low. She spins him around for fun and dips him too. He stands up stiffly with a hand on his back and a comical expression. The guests laugh. Jungeun scoffs.

A dancer’s flexibility is a game changer. There’s a reason Haseul refused to replace her headboard. Jungeun’s that reason.

The groom hugs Haseul from behind, their arms crossed in a lovey-dovey mess as they sway to the jazzy tune. Haseul closes her eyes and smiles. Jungeun’s features smooth out. Haseul looks at peace.

Jungeun falters.

She remembers when that used to be her— them. She wanted to be different from all the other one night stands and 4AM flings. She always stayed the morning after. Awake when the sun rose, she’d wrap her arms around Haseul’s waist and stare at her gentle beauty. No matter if a steady drizzle swept over the city or sunlight bathed them in warmth. Haseul was, is, ethereal.

Those were mornings when Jungeun would pepper Haseul’s with kisses. When Haseul’s raspy voice put Jungeun in a trance and they went for round two, or three depending on their stamina hours prior.

Occasionally, those were mornings when Jungeun deluded herself into thinking they made love.

The newlywed couple gives a toast to their guests and to each other. Jungeun catches Haseul’s eye and raises her glass of champagne. When the reception resumes, she glides across the dance floor. Haseul leans in for a friendly hug.

Jungeun’s hand finds Haseul’s hip, thumb rubbing circles in just the right spot with just the right amount of pressure.

Haseul inhales sharply.

“Congratulations.”

A sinister smile spreads across Jungeun’s face when she feels Haseul shiver.

It doesn’t matter who comes after. Jungeun will always be the best Haseul’s ever had.