"My shadow doesn't show in the dark.

The night time is inclined to my heart.

The emptiness I felt from the start,

Will follow me 'til I fall apart."

It goes by so slowly.

Every day feels like twenty. Every smile feels forced, and there are so many of them. Smiles of obligation, born out of necessity. Three red carpet premiere events and at each one standing there in front of the cameras and smiling she stops and thinks: I wish Seulgi were here with me. Wish she were standing right beside me. I wish I could put my arm around her and smile properly and show the world for real.

The truth is as simple as it is complicated. That’s the great paradox of it all. Seulgi is still twenty minutes northwest by day and twenty more minutes north of that by night, a lonely four-by-three apartment and a deserted gas station with three customers per shift. She hasn’t gone anywhere. All she has to do is pull up outside and get out and go in and work up a smile and say I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for it all. For pushing you away. But reality is crueller than that, more complex. What would happen then? What would become it? The same as before, pushing her away, keeping her at arm’s length, for both their sake’s. How can it be so selfish and selfless at the same time. The hypocrisy of it all hurts her. Hurts them both.

It’s strange and painful. She’s Joohyun when she thinks about Seulgi and Irene at all other times. As if their time spent together existed in some time capsule, locked away from everything else, just the two of them. Daydreaming. Nocturnal memories. The blinding lights strewn across Seoul, these tangible things, disco mirrorballs and neon strobes and her favourite ice cream and the crunch of Marlboro Golds when she screws them up and tosses them out without having opened them. Things she can tie to Seulgi, to make sense of the past. And all it does is force her down and down. Crying, thinking about it. About them. She doesn’t even want the Lamborghini anymore. Even that feels off.

It takes Seulgi four weeks to work up the courage to tell Seungwan that something is actually wrong.

How obvious she has been is not lost on her. The time spent trying not to think about it and then thinking about it anyway and crying. Lots of crying. Seungwan comes in at just before six and occasionally she’s still there, on her way out, losing track of time again, and she forces a smile and says Sorry and rushes past and only then does she break down into tears. When it hits her. The crushing reality that there is nothing she can do anymore. The number in her phone sits vacant, untouched, unrang, untexted. The messages stop four weeks back. A simple Get home safe, I love you. And then the emptiness of it. The hollow feeling in her stomach, her dark heart. Seungwan grabs the stool from behind the counter and pulls it up across the desk from Seulgi and sits patiently, unmoving, attentive, sympathetic to whatever the problem is. She’s always been like that, has Seungwan, and it puts Seulgi partially at ease for the meantime. She isn’t crying yet but she will be.

‘Whenever you’re ready,’ Seungwan says softly.

‘It’s dumb. It’ll sound dumb.’

‘It won’t. You can say it, whatever it is.’

‘It’s Joohyun.’

‘Joohyun? Oh. You mean Bae Irene?’

Seulgi wants to shake her head. That name sounds alien to her, a different entity entirely. But she nods for the sake of clarity and says, ‘Yeah. It is.’

‘What about her?’

‘I don’t know where to start. How do I even say it without sounding stupid? Without sounding like I need help. Hell, I probably do. I think I definitely do.’

‘It’s okay. I’m listening.’

It takes her a long time to calm down and formulate some sort of reasonable explanation. The simplicity of it escapes her. It’s a breakup, on the most basic of levels, but it feels much more than that. A part of her is missing, a part that until two months ago on that strange and dreamlike night she never even knew existed. And now all that remains is the tossing and turning at night, imagining Joohyun’s touch, imagining her whole. The memories are fragments, but sometimes fragments are good. The whole can be recreated from only pieces.

‘Where do I even begin?’

‘Wherever,’ Seungwan says, and so she thinks about it for a moment and continues, voice still trembling, mumbling like a child.

‘I don’t know. I fell in love with her, Seungwan.’

‘Get in line.’

‘I’m serious.’

Seungwan looks at her and drops her gaze and shakes her head. ‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘Didn’t mean to joke about it. Go on.’

‘I fell for her. Properly, genuinely fell for her. Maybe that’s my fault. I think it is. I think its partly because I don’t talk to anyone except you and occasionally my parents, so when something good finally comes around I latch onto it, whatever it is, and I can’t let go. I start thinking it’s more than it really is.’

‘And?’

‘And what?’

‘Is it. More than you think it is, I mean.’

Seulgi shrugs. It’s an honest and pure shrug that tells Seungwan a great deal. ‘Maybe,’ she says. ‘I really don’t know. She told me she loved me. Told me she cared for me. And then she pushed me away. And I think I pushed her away as well. I wasn’t there for her. I couldn’t be.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She said we couldn’t be together.’

‘She said that? Exactly like that?’

‘More or less,’ Seulgi says, wiping her eyes a second time.

‘Why?’

‘Said we couldn’t be seen together in public, for obvious reasons.’

‘What obvious reasons?’

‘Because I’m a girl.’

Seungwan is quiet. She thinks about it and nods in solemn understanding.

‘Is that stupid?’ Seulgi says.

‘No. Not at all.’

‘I know. That’s the problem. When I think about it, I understand it completely. It all makes sense. And I wish and wish and wish it wasn’t like that. I wish there was something I could do about it, but what? What could I possibly do? I’m just one person. I’m just a stupid idiot in way over my head, caught in something I shouldn’t be. I wish I could change what everyone thought of it, thought of us, whatever you want to call it. Wish I could change the whole ing thing. But I can’t. Not at all.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘No. It isn’t okay at all. If it were okay, I wouldn’t be here like this. I wouldn’t be crying myself to sleep every night. That’s if I even get any sleep anymore. What do I do, Seungwan? Tell me. Tell me what I do.’

‘I don’t know. I’m sorry.’

‘Neither do I. Am I supposed to just get over her, just like that? That easily? I’ve only known her a couple months and it feels like years. Listen to me, moping about, crying over this . I should know better, and yet here I am. Rambling to you.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘Not for me it isn’t. How can I get over something like that? And what do I even do then? If I managed to get back with her, what then? I’ve still got everything else to think about. It’s not that simple.’

‘You just take it one step at a time.’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know that either,’ Seungwan says apologetically. ‘I wish I did. I wish I could give you the answers, but I can’t. I can only listen. I’m sorry. I really am. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.’

‘But maybe it was. Maybe we had something good and right, that could’ve lasted. I think we did. I honestly do. But now I’ll never know.’

‘Do you still have her number?’

Seulgi nods morosely.

‘Why don’t you ring her, then? Or text her?’

‘And say what? What would I even ask her in that situation? To meet? She won’t accept that.’

‘It’s worth a try.’

‘I don’t think it is. I don’t think it’s worth the heartbreak. You know, it’s almost funny in a sort of terribly sad way.’

‘What is?’

‘I’ve spent my whole life being scared of just going for things, just pushing it, just letting out my feelings and saying it. Go for it. And then one night I do. I tell her everything, how I’m feeling, all of it, and this happens. And now I’m like this, telling myself I should’ve never done it in the first place. Is this it? Is this what it’s like? God, I hate it.’

Seungwan smiles gently. She puts a hand palm-up on the counter and Seulgi takes it and she a thumb across the back of Seulgi’s hand. ‘It’ll all work itself out,’ she says. ‘I’m sure it will. I think it has to.’

‘Why?’

‘Otherwise you won’t get any work done.’

Seulgi laughs, the first laugh in a month, thankful for once for Seungwan’s poorly timed comedy. It’s a welcome distraction, if only for a brief moment. Then she’s thinking about Joohyun again. When she says goodbye to Seungwan and catches the bus home it drives past a billboard advertising the recent release of Stargirl and it begins the cycle all over again. So does everything else, all of it tied to Joohyun’s memory. The lights, neon or otherwise. Food, ice cream or otherwise. Cigarettes, perfume. All of it serves to remind Seulgi of what she’s lost. What cannot be put right again.

Perhaps time will heal it. As she sits and mourns the passage of such she thinks that is a real possibility. But the curse of time lies in its unpredictability, and emotions are no different. Tomorrow could be fine. Three years from now and she could be no better. The volatility is what scares her. There she is. Back at the void. Only this time her feet remain planted firmly on the ground.

The synths hurt her ears.

She loved them before. Eighties disco is her favourite kind of music, always has been. It matches perfectly with the night drives and the -white Countach and her sense of leather-jacket fashion, but now it sounds awful and shrill and Joohyun hates it. She sits at the bar in the quiet away from the dancefloor and orders herself a strong rum and Coke and finishes it in three mouthfuls. The taste is bitter and strong and terrible. She’s never been a fan of drinking outside of the occasional Daquiri or Martini, but cocktails are her thing with Seulgi, and the memory of Seulgi, two months on, is as vivid and as debilitating as it has ever been.

She holds out a hand and waves to the bartender. ‘Can I have another?’ she asks. He looks at her with concern and throws a towel over one shoulder and says, ‘Are you sure you should still be drinking?’

‘Why? Do I look drunk?’

‘You sound it, too.’

‘Maybe.’

‘What would you like?’

She thinks about it for a minute. The synths sound distant and fading. Her breath smells of rum and her teeth have that awful stickiness to them that feels furry when she across her palate. She says, ‘Actually, I’m okay, thanks. Could you do me a favour?’

‘What?’

She fumbles around in her pocket and pulls out her phone and hands it over the counter, acutely aware the room is spinning and suddenly there are two of him standing there. ‘One nine nine one.’

‘What?’

‘The code. Can you ring me a cab? Please.’

He looks at her and takes her phone and thumbs something in. Joohyun sits and wobbles. He knows who she is. She’s sure half the club do, but who cares? She isn’t with anyone. The awful realisation hits her that she is safer when wasted on her own than sober with Seulgi, at least to the public. There’s no scandal in being drunk. Other things are not so lucky as to escape unscathed. He hands her phone back and nods toward the door. ‘They said it’ll be five minutes on the corner.’

‘Thank you,’ she mumbles, stuffing her phone away. She puts a hand out to the counter and rights herself and stumbles over to the door. In her intoxicated state the lights are blinding. The door seems to move itself further and further away. She thinks nothing at all. Then she thinks: I want Seulgi. I want Seulgi because I love Seulgi. I do.

The cab pulls up a couple minutes later. It takes Joohyun a while to open the door and climb in and settle herself. Her breath stinks, hair is a mess. He asks where she wants to go and she gives the address and asks for the time.

‘Just gone two,’ he says. ‘Are you alright?’

‘No. I’m drunk.’

‘Wish I could be.’

‘I’m missing someone,’ she says. ‘Very much.’

‘A friend?’

‘No. My girlfriend. I love her.’

He glances at her through the mirror. Joohyun entirely unaware she has spoken at all, just sat slumped against the glass, watching all of Seoul melt away in a flurry of lights. Everything feels so cold and lifeless. Maybe it’ll rain soon. Sometime later she sits up and realises she’s been asleep and mumbling to herself. Her driver looks at her again. ‘Are we here?’ she says.

‘We’ve been here for a while.’

She looks out the window. The parkinglot is desolate. Yeri’s diner glimmers like a holy light in its pink neon shell. She fumbles about in her jacket pocket and pulls out a handful of bills and passes them through the divider and steps out without bothering to pick up her change. The cab drives off behind her and she’s alone, watching the front of the diner, the quiet of it, the pinktinged neon ringed along the low windows, not thinking about Yeri. Thinking instead: This was where I brought Seulgi. That was three months ago. How has it gone so fast.

She knocks and waits and waits some more. The look Yeri throws her way is almost comical. She unlocks the front doors and stands there with her hands covered in flour and her apron stained and her face sweaty. ‘Are you okay?’ she asks.

‘Not really. A bit drunk.’

‘A bit.’

‘Quite a lot.’

‘How did you get here?’

‘Cab.’

Yeri looks about. ‘Do you wanna come in?’ she says.

‘Yeah. I do.’

‘Can I get you anything?’

Joohyun stumbles over to the same empty window seat. ‘Just a coffee,’ she says. ‘And a water if you can. No cake.’

‘Sure.’

She comes back out with a cup of hot coffee and a bottle of water and sets them on the table and sits across from Joohyun, watching her in the way a tourist might observe an animal in a zoo. She sips the coffee slowly. It tastes of nothing but the heat, the rum still leaving its bitter and horrid aftertaste.

‘What’s wrong?’ Yeri says.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You never get drunk. You hate it.’

‘Yeah. Well.’

‘And you told me you don’t like people watching you. You said it’s not good for the gossip. What they’ll say.’

‘Who told you I got drunk in public?’

‘Well.’

‘Well,’ Joohyun says.

‘Did you?’

A pause. Then she says, ‘Yes.’

‘There you go, then. Don’t go too fast.’

‘What?’

Yeri nods to the coffee on the little ceramic saucer. ‘Don’t drink it too fast,’ she says. ‘It’s too hot.’

‘It’s not.’

‘Yeah, because you won’t be able to feel it. Any of it. Just take it slowly.’

She looks down at the dark moiling of the coffee, the heat of it rising in tiny spirals. Searching for something in the black of it. Nothing there to see.

‘So,’ Yeri says, shifting a slight. ‘You gonna tell me what’s wrong?’

‘It’s all wrong.’

‘What is?’

‘All of it.’

‘Not quite the answer I was looking for.’

‘All of it,’ Joohyun mumbles again. ‘All messed up. I messed it up. We messed it up. But mostly me.’

‘Who is we? What are you talking about?’

She takes a long pause. One hand plays idly with the handle of the cup. ‘Seulgi,’ she mutters, almost a whisper.

‘What about her?’

‘I miss her. I miss her more than I’ve ever missed anything.’

‘Why don’t you talk to her then?’

‘Because I love her.’

‘That doesn’t make any sense.’

‘I can’t be with her. I don’t want to break her heart like that.’

‘Why can’t you?’

‘I just can’t. I’ve said this before.’

‘How long has it been? Since you talked to her, I mean.’

Joohyun says, ‘Thirty-one days.’

‘You been counting or something?’

‘Yes. Of course I have.’

‘Of course you have.’

‘I’m a mess, Yeri.’

Yeri makes a gesture that says: Obvious.

‘I’m a big mess.’

‘You should just talk to her. I hate seeing you like this. Actually I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this bad before.’

‘I should’ve never met her.’

‘Don’t be stupid.’

‘It’s true.’

‘I said don’t be stupid.’

‘I love her,’ Joohyun mutters, repeating herself. The coffee is hot and bitter on her fuzzy tongue.

‘You stink,’ says Yeri.

‘Thanks.’

‘Are you gonna talk to her?’

‘No. Better to leave her alone. To just forget about her.’

‘Don’t kid yourself.’

‘It is.’

‘Joohyun. Joohyun, look at me.’

Slowly she does. The sincerity in Yeri’s eyes is rather sobering. ‘Don’t be stupid,’ she says. ‘Don’t let this opportunity pass you by.’

‘I can’t do it. It won’t work.’

‘Not if you keep telling yourself it won’t. You’ve got to believe.’

‘Stop it. That’s cheesy and dumb.’

‘So? Maybe you need to be cheesy and dumb and a bit cliché. Sometimes things work better that way. Optimism isn’t as bad as you make it out to be. I think we all need a bit more optimism in our lives sometimes.’

‘Optimism doesn’t replace reality.’

‘It does if you let it. After a while, optimism becomes your reality. You should let it, Joohyun. I really think you should.’

Joohyun thinks about it. She thinks about Seulgi. The pink neon above her head makes her wince in its bright light. She takes out her phone and slaps it on the table and thumbs in the code and checks her messages. Thirty-one days. ‘It won’t work,’ she says quietly.

‘Why not?’

‘You know why.’

‘Then don’t tell anyone.’

‘People would find out.’

‘And nobody would say anything.’ Yeri shifts again. She folds her arms on the table and unfolds them uncomfortably. Sitting there she looks much older than she is, older than Joohyun, with her dark hair and her caring face, not twenty but thirty-five and still fiercely independent. ‘Look,’ she says, ‘sometimes things come into your life that you just can’t ignore. Things that you need. I think this is one of those things. Don’t let it pass you by.’

‘I already have.’

‘Then get it back. Look at you. Like this.’

‘I just miss her.’

‘I know. You’ve said.’

‘She made me feel normal again,’ Joohyun says, so serious it has Yeri a little stricken. ‘Everything she did, even after I told her who I was. I miss it all. The time I was with her was the only time I wasn’t Irene anymore. I was Joohyun. And she told me the opposite. She thought it was different. She thought I wanted to be Irene.’

‘Do you not?’

She shakes her head solemnly. ‘Not like that. Not all the time. Not even most of the time. It all just feels fake to me and I hate it. I want to get away from it. And there she is, the opposite of that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Wanting to fit in. Hating the fact she can’t. That’s what she said. And there I am, making it all worse, telling her I wish I was more like her. I don’t think she wanted to hear that.’

‘I think maybe she did.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Being different isn’t so bad,’ Yeri says. ‘Being the opposite of someone can sometimes be the best thing of all. It gives you something to balance against. Something to bring you back to earth. To guide you, keep you centred. Having that can be vital, I think. And I don’t think either of you are wrong at all. I think sometimes it’s okay to be alone, and sometimes it’s okay to want to be with other people. It’s all about finding that balance. Or in your case, that person to find that balance with you. To help you through it. But that’s just my take on it. I might be totally wrong. I usually am.’

‘When did you become such a sage?’

‘I’m not.’

‘Sage of the Diners.’

‘C’mon now.’

Joohyun laughs. The coffee seems much colder suddenly. ‘Thank you,’ she says, a lot less drunk. ‘I probably won’t remember this in the morning, but I think I needed to hear it.’

‘How does that even make sense?’

‘Dunno. I think it’s one of those subconscious things, you know? That I’ll wake up and just have it in my head, but not know if was you that said it.’

‘Just make sure to thank me if it works out,’ Yeri says.

‘Sure thing. Can I ask you another question?’

‘Sure.’

‘Can I have some marble cake? The chocolate one, please. It was really good.’

‘Where are you going again?’

‘Jeju,’ Seulgi says. ‘I know sixteen days feels like a long time, but it’s not.’

Seungwan only shrugs from behind the counter. ‘It’s your holiday time,’ she says. ‘All of your holiday time, for that matter.’

‘I know. But I need to do this. I need to get away and clear my head, I think. Just something to take my mind off of it all.’

To forget her, she thinks. But Seungwan doesn’t need to hear that.

‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ she says.

‘Good. I’ll be right here. What are you planning on doing?’

‘Not a lot. I don’t have anything planned, honestly. Just, you know.’

‘Relaxing?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Well then.’

‘Thanks, Seungwan. For everything.’

‘You make it sound like you’re not returning.’

The truth might be closer to that than Seungwan believes. The thought of grabbing a cab to Incheon airport and flying to somewhere in Europe and just winging it has crossed Seulgi’s mind more times than she wants to admit, but it’s foolish and short-sighted and probably out of her price range. But still. The thought is there. She smiles at Seungwan and taps the counter and turns to leave.

‘Oh, and Seulgi.’

‘What?’ Seulgi says, hand on the door.

Seungwan smiles at her. ‘Grab me something cute, would you? A souvenir or something. For your troubles.’