"It's not fair," Joohyun blurts out all of a sudden.

Seungwan turns away from the soundless drama playing on the television, shifting her attention towards the older girl on the seat a few steps away from the hospital bed. Joohyun sees the calm look on Seungwan's face, and the words push their way out from between her lips with strength she couldn't quite keep up with.

"It's not fair," she repeats, lowering her gaze to look at the smooth, brittle fabric of the blanket. Too white, she thinks. It's too pure--untainted, and it leaves a bitter taste in . Her next words leave the comfort of the back of her tongue before she can even think—

"You're not supposed to be here."

You're supposed to be singing your heart out. With us.

She feels the soft material of the seat crumple under the pressure of the tightening grip of her palm and fingers.

With me.

There's a tiny twitch in one corner of Seungwan's mouth, and Joohyun catches the momentary clenching of her jaw. In an instant, she's overcome with guilt, with wave after wave dousing and flooding her insides until it almost drowns her lungs. Joohyun presses her lips into a thin line.

She doesn't speak after that. She does her utmost best to keep sewn shut, despite the vague, painful sensation of her muscles clenching as she lets herself pour her feelings onto the mattress.

Because she's scared of seeing Seungwan smiling.

Not after what happened.

Not that smile she wore all too often years before.

"Unnie."

It's too soon.

In one fragment of her mind, Joohyun is aware of the present. She's seen Seungwan smiling a lot brighter than she used to, despite its light not being as pure as it was before she decided to chase her passion—her dreams. But there are corners in Joohyun's head that nurture shadows with chains for affection, and they never get tired of loving her. They sing to her, they whisper like it's a secret, like it's real.

You're going nowhere.

Sometimes, Joohyun ends up believing it.

Joohyun knows, though. She knows that she, Seulgi, Seungwan, Sooyoung, Yerim... she knows they're onto something real—they have to be—something big and something ethereal and fleeting and it's precisely because of this that all of them can't just let it go so easily, but—

"It's not fair, Seungwan," she croaks out.

The air becomes heavy with something she can't quite put into words.

She feels her eyes burn, and Joohyun swiftly rises to her feet, her gaze not leaving those god-forsaken hospital sheets that won't stop messing with her head. The empty color seeps through the walls of her mind and thrashes mercilessly inside—it's selfish, it's poisonous, and Joohyun knows it's going to be her damnation one day but she doesn't know how to cure it.

I'm sorry.

Joohyun sees ghosts of cream, almost white skin under sheets just as pale and lifeless—almost—of spots contrasting against the white in shades of blue and purple: of fingers firmly grasping a microphone with multiple chips at the base--and she feels her breath hang onto with surprising fervor.

"Joohyun-unnie—"

"I think," she mutters, purposely cutting off the other's sentence, phrase, whatever the hell she intends to weave just so Joohyun stops choking on the images constantly plaguing her mind.

Joohyun takes a breath.

"I'll go wash my face for a bit."

She doesn't wait to hear Seungwan's response.

She doesn't wait to hear Unnie, I'm sorry.

She doesn't wait for an unwanted apology with that torturously familiar smile filled with memories of experiences she's sure neither of them would want to recall.

Joohyun didn't think she had the heart to hear it.

The water feels cold on her skin, and she hopes it does the job but it doesn't. The freezing temperature elicits a gasp, but nothing else. It doesn't soothe her frayed nerves, it doesn't take away the questions blurring her thoughts, and it doesn't stop her teeth from sinking into her lip hard enough to draw a drop of blood.

Wiping , Joohyun sighs and stares into the mirror. There's an image of a girl clad in clothes designed to impress, to attract attention like night lights amidst the wide expanse of deep blue skies. She was exactly that. All of them. Dolls dressed to personify beauty and perfection in the deluded standards of modern society. Their voices, their faces, their bodies, their whole essence of being--be it onstage or on the camera, it belonged to everyone but them.

Joohyun remembers tears and silent screams and seemingly infinite hours of practice. The unbearable  pain that flared up in her limbs whenever she moved. Time standing still as the instructors went over their mistakes. She remembers staying in the practice room with nothing but the bright lights that felt like they were searing into her pupils as she looked up and wondered, what was she even here for? Joohyun remembers smiling as she thought about the promise between Seulgi and herself: of something more, something better, something that would stretch their lips into smiles so wide other people would return their grins upon catching sight of it.

Joohyun finds herself asking the same question.

She doesn't find it in her to think about what's better this time.

It isn't until she walks back into Seungwan's sight and hears her voice that Joohyun feels the strange, cool sensation on her skin.

"Ah, unnie," Seungwan speaks, her eyes as expressive as always. "Your shirt. It's wet."

Joohyun blinks. She looks down and sees a moderately-sized stain on the fabric of her shirt, slightly darker, but otherwise unnoticeable. Considering the material of her outfit, along with the black and white patterns, she doesn't know how Seungwan managed to spot it without squinting. She raises her head to look at the other girl, eyebrows pulled a little closer to one another.

Seungwan simply gestures to the spectacles hanging just above the tip of her nose. "Glasses," she says, with a small smile playing on her lips.

"Oh," replies Joohyun. She pulls at the shirt and winces when she feels the frigid temperature slide over her skin a little more than it has been since the moment she entered the room. Mumbling under her breath, she turns to the seat she'd been occupying only to find that she brought nothing but her phone and wallet. No bags whatsoever.

"I've, um," Seungwan begins, her voice lowering in volume by a fraction. Joohyun turns to her. "I have a hoodie here." The blonde points to the folded clothing lying beside her. "My mom brought it earlier. Just use this one."

The area between the older girl's eyebrows crease at the suggestion.

"She brought it for you, didn't she?" Joohyun throws back with more bite than she intended. Seungwan shifts her gaze. Joohyun makes sure to soften her voice a notch when she speaks next, "Are you not going to use it?"

"I'm not feeling cold."

"What about later?"

Seungwan looks at her. "Later is later, Joohyun-unnie. You're the one who needs it right now."

"But—"

"Seriously, unnie." Exasperation paints Seungwan's tone as she sighs. "It's not a big deal. Just wear it."

Joohyun opens to protest, but before she does, her sight's all black, and there's a feeling of smooth fabric in her hands when she raises them out of reflex.

"Shut up and change." Joohyun looks at Seungwan, who firmly returns her gaze with a nod just as firm. "Please."

She doesn't talk back, and opts to twist around to head back to the restroom.

"Wait, unnie."

Joohyun pauses and turns her body sideways to glance at the younger girl. "What is it?"

"You can, um," Seungwan says, then stops. She hesitates and brings her hands to her lap. Slowly. Carefully. "Never mind."

Joohyun stares at her for a while. Her mind is empty, and Joohyun feels relieved because of it. It's been quite a while since she felt lost, but in nothing else but the literal sense of the word, not in places dark enough to hide her selfish reveries.

"Why?"

Seungwan looks up at her, eyes a bit wider than they usually are. Joohyun's gaze uncontrollably slides towards the gauze plastered on her cheek, near the slope where her earlobe and jaw met, and suddenly it's back—the blood rising to her head, whispering talks of "it's my fault" and "why" and "I'm sorry" and Joohyun almost sinks into it. That quicksand. The intangible manifestation of the all-consuming mix of emotions brewing in the pit of her stomach.

Seungwan's words pull her back to reality, forcibly.

"...Change here."

Joohyun's ears ring in a different type of chime.

She blinks.

Seungwan curls her lips into a little, but she doesn't look away.

Joohyun holds her gaze blankly.

"Excuse me?"

Suddenly, Seungwan's uninjured hand flies to her face, hiding Joohyun's view of her nose and mouth with it. "...y."

Joohyun turns her body completely in Seungwan's direction. "What was that?" She tries not to think about how hot her neck was getting, or how sweaty her hands were underneath the cover of Seungwan's clothes. She tries not to wonder if Seungwan could hear her heart beating nervously inside her ribcage in this heavy atmosphere—this deafening silence.

Seungwan looks away. "I knew you'd react like that. I'm sorry, I said. I made it awkward."

Joohyun thinks it's been awkward for days, even without Seungwan's strange, shocking statements, but she doesn't say that.

Instead, she says—chokes out, really—

"Okay."

Maybe it's the blood that's been gurgling in her ears for a while now, maybe it's the shock of being suddenly soothed from her anger, or maybe she was just lazy. Joohyun doesn't know why, but she agreed.

She doesn't even understand what exactly it is that she said yes to, but she doesn't want to back out.

There's a very high possibility that she will want to after a second or two, however, so she doesn't stick around to watch herself take another step back.

She's been doing that a lot lately.

Seungwan's mouth is hanging open when Joohyun walks to the foot of her hospital bed. Joohyun feels her skin burn under the stare of undoubtedly surprised orbs of earthen brown, but she brushes it off and attempts to exude an air of nonchalance as she places the hoodie a few inches from Seungwan's feet.

"Don't be weird about this," Joohyun finds herself saying as her eyes meet Seungwan's for a split-second.

Joohyun turns around and feels her cheeks burn hotter.

She says stupid things a lot lately, too.

Considering the absolute quiet filling the entire space of the room, it isn't hard for Joohyun to hear the small gasp behind her when she takes off her shirt. Joohyun's mouth is dry. It doesn't make much sense to her—they've seen each other in underwears, swimsuits and stage outfits that fit them so snugly it's like they were wearing a second layer of skin. She has never reacted to it this badly so why—

Oh.

Joohyun tenses.

The realization that hit her has her arms moving in a much faster pace, sliding the shirt off of her arms in an instant, albeit struggling slightly. She vaguely registers dropping it on the floor, but she doesn't pick it up. With a face as straight as it could possibly be, she reaches for the hoodie without looking at the other person in the vicinity, and slips it on.

It doesn't fit her in any way: a shade of blue as pale as the sky in cold mornings, hanging on her shoulders and stops just above her kneecaps. She could pull her whole arm inside if she wanted to. Stuck in some sort of trance, she does exactly that.

It's warm, she thinks. It's loose and comfortable and it has Seungwan's scent latching all over it.

"Oh, wow."

Joohyun exhales, facing Seungwan. "I told you not to be weird about it. It's not like you haven't seen me before."

"I have?"

Joohyun's eyes meet Seungwan in a way that was most certainly not calm. "You haven't?"

"No, unnie," Seungwan says and the temperature in the room rises out of nowhere. "But if it helps..." The blonde drifts off awkwardly, lifting the blanket until it's only her eyes that were visible, staring right at Joohyun with penetrating irises of dark, dark brown.

"If it helps what?"

"I... I like seeing you in my clothes," Seungwan says, her voice muffled by the sheets. "A lot more than I'm supposed to, I think."

There is something hanging just behind Joohyun's lips, but she doesn't quite know how to get it out. Instead, she says, "Okay," for the second time.

Seungwan's nervous gaze softens, and then she's chuckling, her previously awkward demeanor showing nowhere but the muted stiffness of one shoulder. The corners of her eyes squeezed into lines in her trademark smile and laughter, and Joohyun knows she would give anything to keep it there.

She vaguely feels a stubborn grin pulling on .

It takes a while for Seungwan to stop giggling, and the whole time, Joohyun stood beside her, abandoning her clothes hanging on the foot of Seungwan's bed. She would clasp the immaculate fabric between the lengths of her fingers as she listened to the sound of Seungwan's chuckling, and she would find herself caught in the middle of chaotic guilt and anger, and the peace of mind only Seungwan's presence could provide. Sometimes, Joohyun wonders if she could have gotten to where she was if she didn't have the girls to lean on, if she didn't have Seungwan's own strength and courage to serve as her inspiration to be better every single day.

Sometimes, Joohyun wonders if she would give up if Seungwan ever decides to do so.

Other times, Joohyun thinks she's going to continue, if only for the sake of shouldering the burden Seungwan had to carry since the day she decided to take the plunge.

"Unnie," Joohyun hears Seungwan say. "What are you thinking of?"

Her fingers pause in their fumbling, and Joohyun looks up to counter Seungwan's scrutiny with her attention.

"I..." Joohyun trails off, hesitating, but then she sees Seungwan's eyes and she lets go, as she always does. "I'm not sure what I'd do without you."

Amusement dances in the other girl's eyes, sparkling--mesmerizing. "You're talking as if I'm dying."

This time, it's Joohyun that stutters. "I—That's not... That's not what I meant..."

The smile on Seungwan's face dims.

"I know, unnie," she reaches out to grasp Joohyun's hand, easing the tension pulling at her muscles with  firm yet tender of her fingers.

Silence hangs a weightless fog in the atmosphere, fine grains of grim ashes mixed with silvery hues of calm. It stays like that for a few moments—Seungwan's hand soothing hers, the air suffocating and relaxing at the same time, time ticking like it was reminding them of all that they have left.

Looking into Joohyun's eyes, Seungwan opens , her words uttered in a voice so faint Joohyun had to strain her ears to catch them even in the quiet.

"I... I'm not leaving, unnie."

Her grip on Joohyun's hand tightens.

"I'm not leaving," she repeats, both her words and her promise bearing the weight of Joohyun's heart.

Sometimes, Joohyun wonders if Seungwan would ever stop lifting baggage after baggage on her paper back.

And other times, she thinks about when she would ever stop taking half of it to stack on her own tower of failures and broken promises.

"...I'm not doing this without you," she murmurs, leaning into Seungwan's touch.

Joohyun feels the way Seungwan's torso vibrates as she giggles, and she turns her head until they're only a centimeter apart, her eyes half-open but still aching for something deeper, something she could give everything for, something worth selling her soul—"Don't leave."

I love you.

Seungwan's words are soundless, almost, but she feels them through her lips with every fiber of her body.

"I won't," she whispers, and Joohyun feels her breath on her own lips, writing everything she doesn't hear, making every oath she wants to hear—"I won't give this up for anything."

Most of the time, Joohyun asks herself if she'll ever stop being selfish.