It was ing pathetic how much Momo was in love with Jihyo. Every single emotion she’d have was based off of how Jihyo would respond to every SINGLE thing she said. The older never meant to be such a mess, but one conversation with Jihyo led to the next, to the next, and eventually? That’s what led Momo to being a total slave to her. And she hated it. But … she loved it, too. Her eyes would linger on Jihyo for just a little too long sometimes, and quite honestly, she would be nothing less than an absolute buffoon to think that it went unnoticed. 

 

Really, that’s when the distance began.

 

It hurt Momo to leave Jihyo alone, but it hurt endlessly more for them to stay friends. The distancing was subtle. Every day, they would talk a little less. Momo would be a little less touchy, a little less talkative. Jihyo noticed, too. She… didn’t really know how to feel.

 

“Just give Momo some time.” was all she ever thought, because of course, if she knew anything, it was clearly how Momo felt. But it would be foolish to think that Jihyo shared the sentiment. Of course she didn’t. She never had, and she never would. She never would let herself do that. She never really had the reasoning for it, but respect was important to her anyways, and she didn’t have to have a reason.

 

Despite any circumstances, it hurt Jihyo just the same anyways. Momo was still supposed to be her friend through everything. They’d shared so much advice with each other, so many laughs, so many… god… just… way too much. And it all ended because of some stupid ing feelings. And they had both seen it coming, in hindsight. 

 

So one night, they both sat in their separate rooms, in their separate houses, in their separate sides of town. They each waited for texts they knew would never happen. Jihyo cried herself to sleep that night. She didn’t even know why. As for Momo, well, that was just routine now. The bags and broken blood vessels underneath her eyes were so pronounced that nobody would ever be able to tell that she’d ever been happy. Of course she hadn’t been for so long. She’d lost her best friend, and the girl she’d loved and treasured with all her heart, just because all of her heart might have been a little bit too much to love her with. Jihyo’s occasional night of crying was ing child’s play in comparison.

 

Eventually, they both forgot how good it felt to be needed by someone else. It’s not like they had no other friends, of course, but nobody had ever been the same for one than the other. Momo’s friends worried for her wellbeing, in fact, more than a moderate amount. They’d honestly thought she’d developed some sort of mental disorder. But Momo knew they didn’t really care because none of them were Jihyo. None of them were really friends. None of them had the same ing promises.

 

Sometimes, Momo would just lose her feelings entirely. Not just for Jihyo, but for everything. It was like she felt okay. But she knew she was really feeling nothing at all. It didn’t worry her anymore, not really. Nor did her destructive behavior.

 

Maybe that’s why, when she saw someone familiar at the supermarket, she had to hold back.

 

“Momo.”

 

The voice was recognizable anywhere. Of course it’d be Jihyo. She turned around with a fixed snarl on her face. “What, Jihyo?”

 

“Why did you leave me all that time ago?”

 

“You know exactly what was going on.” Momo’s tone came across much more harsh than her old friend (turned lover, turned enemy) had remembered. “And I still haven’t stopped loving you.”

 

“Momo, look at me.” Jihyo said firmly, grabbing the other’s forearm with no hesitance. Momo winced, only for the pain to subside as soon as the other’s lips connected with hers softly. Jihyo ended it in seconds. “Momo, listen.”                                                                                         

 

“So, do you love me now?” the other’s face changed into one of hope, or what little hope she had left, anyways.

 

“…No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

 

Momo let out a pissed off half-laugh. “You know what? you, Park Jihyo. you.” She grit her teeth and tried holding in her tears, to no avail. “I distanced myself from you so I could stop thinking about you, but you never left my mind. No matter how hard I tried… And I hate you for that.”

 

“Fine. You know what? I didn’t want to see you anyways. Just go finish getting what you need and go home. It isn’t like I was worried about you or anything. It’s not like I missed you every single day.” Jihyo had started crying, too. 

 

“Doesn’t matter what you felt if you didn’t love me back. If you still don’t.” Momo sniffled. “You’re the only person to ever occupy such a large part of my heart. Can’t you understand that? I want you, I’ve only ever wanted you.”

 

Jihyo sighed, and her expression softened. Tears still rolled down her face softly. She felt touched, but she was stuck in a limbo of sorts by the predicament. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want. You know I would in a heartbeat if I could.” 

 

“It isn’t enough. Call me selfish, but it ing isn’t.” The tears that escaped Momo’s eyes were nothing short of painful. Everything ached. “I don’t ever want you to talk to me again. Bye.” She yanked her arm out of Jihyo’s grasp. It felt hot. With that, each girl went their separate ways, collected what they needed to buy, paid, and went home. 

 

Upon arrival at her own home, Momo didn’t bother to put the groceries away — she just left the paper bags on the counter and slid back into the chair she’d been before she went out. She cared little for the condition of the food she bought, just so long as she didn’t get deathly sick. Or, maybe that was what she wanted… No, no, she couldn’t think like that, because then her .5% chance of being with Jihyo would turn into a 0% chance, and she couldn’t have that. And maybe it was dumb to think, but she was sure that one day, Jihyo just might change her mind. So, she picked up her cellphone and did something really idiotic. 

 

She called Jihyo. She had to.

 

Surprisingly, the phone only rang one time before she heard the voice on the other end. “Hey. Is everything okay?” It was soft, but with a sense of urgency and protection. Jihyo was so caring even after Momo knew she treated her like . But it was justified, right? At least, in her mind…

 

“I’m sorry.” Momo barely managed to get that out.

 

There was a long, uncomfortable silence on both ends. What either was waiting for, they didn’t know. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have reacted how I did. I shouldn’t have given you hope.”

 

Silence again.

 

“I’m sorry, that came out wrong.” Jihyo apologized to the other. “I hope you can understand.”

 

“… I don’t understand, but I guess I can try.”

 

“Thank you. I just truthfully don’t want to say goodbye to what we have by giving you something more that isn’t a mutual want.” 

 

They both sighed in unison, and Momo smiled brokenly. They always seemed to be in unison, even when they were apart. “I don’t want to say goodbye, either. Not even to you on this call. I’m afraid I’ll never want to say hello again. Maybe I’ll just have to settle for less, but it won’t be easy.” 

 

“It won’t be easy for me, either, you know. Watching you struggle like this was never easy for me.” Jihyo said, a hint of sadness in her voice. “But I can agree to give you the space you need, if you really do want it.”

 

“Maybe, but I’m starting to think that my problems don’t get better when I run away from them.” 

 

“Very correct.” Jihyo knew the feeling of running from her problems all too well, and if she was being entirely honest with herself, that was something she wouldn’t even want her worst enemies to do. It didn’t feel good in the slightest to run away. “I’m sorry, Momo, but for now, I have things to do. I can call you some other time. Goodbye.” 

 

“…Goodbye.” Momo replied to the other, who had already hung up without giving her a chance to say anything. “I love you.”

 

Both just secretly hoped it wouldn’t be ‘goodbye’ forever.