[trigger warning: non-graphic depiction of head trauma & mentions of blood ahead.]

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

HR: 85 bpm

“You haven’t spoken to her since she got settled in?”

Yeji grimaces at how loud Chaeryeong’s voice is at their usual booth in Hussey Pizza, a popular restaurant just outside of Jinyoung University. It’s Friday night, and the whole place is packed, the sound of busy chatting accompanied by pop music from the speakers. Despite this, Chaeryeong’s second outburst of the night (the first was “Yeji unnie had a crush on Jisu unnie?” after Ryujin finally updated her on everything) still gained attention from some students who were just trying to enjoy their evening. Yeji hides her face with a menu in embarrassment. She’s thankful that Jisu is in the girls’ washroom right now, oblivious to the chaotic conversation.

“Give her a break, Ryeong,” Ryujin speaks up, nudging her friend with her elbow. “She didn’t talk to Jisu unnie for six months despite being seatmates in middle school. Jisu unnie’s been only here for two weeks. I’m sure they’ll be conversing regularly in a year’s time, right?” The snicker she lets out doesn’t go unnoticed. Yeji narrows her eyes at her.

“I just haven’t caught her outside her room yet!” The latter whispers defensively. “I’m always out first thing in the morning before she’s up and I come back home before she does.”

(A half lie, Yeji notes. She remembers Jisu sitting in her pajamas in the living room munching on a donut last Saturday, Animal Farm on TV. Her roommate greeted her with a raspy good morning before Yeji left to jog around the campus. In her defense, she did grin before wordlessly bolting out of there. That counts as a conversation, right?)

“You’re being a terrible roommate, unnie.” Chaeryeong frowns.

“Excuse me.”

A voice interrupts before the menu is taken away from Yeji’s hands, rendering her defenseless from judgmental stares. The three girls in the booth look up to see Shin Yuna, red, Hussey-branded apron over her high school uniform. She smiles at the three apologetically. “Dad says he’ll have to kick you guys out if Chaeryeong unnie ever shouts like that again.”

“She won’t. Thanks, Yuna.” Ryujin says through stifled laughter, patting Chaeryeong’s shoulder as the latter mimes zipping shut.

Yeji wants to laugh at the younger girl’s dilemma, but when she sees Jisu walking back to them from far away, she freezes. Her cheeks start feeling way too warm. She tries to think that it’s because of the amount of people in the room, but it’s really just from the shame of not being able to utter a word to her roommate. How did she even manage to avoid her for two whole weeks? Yeji wanted to ease herself into talking to Jisu, not pressuring herself to do anything. That’s what she did to her past roommates, anyway. Conversation should come naturally.

There was also this added element of Jisu being the first crush she ever had that happened to grow up looking like long-lost royalty. So, she waited until she felt ready to talk to her. And waited. And waited again.

It’s not the best idea Yeji’s ever had. Her capacity to overthink about the simplest things amazes her sometimes.

“Everybody okay here?” Jisu asks once she reaches the booth.

Yeji nods when their eyes meet for a split second, but she is not okay. She’s not okay with how her best friends seem to be scheming right now, Ryujin whispering in her same-aged friend’s ear as Chaeryeong busied herself with something on her lap. Yeji soon finds out what that something is when she feels a hand brush against her knee. She peeks briefly at her lap to see Chaeryeong’s hand, accompanied by her outstretched, spaghetti-like arm, showing the older girl a typed-out message on her phone.

Please talk to her for me, it says, complete with a teary-eyed emoji. Did Yeji have the heart to say no to that?

“Since we’re all starved, Chaeryeong and I are going to go to the counter to place our orders. Do you guys want anything in particular?” Ryujin commands attention as she stands up, pulling Chaeryeong along.

(Meanwhile, Yuna, their designated waitress for the night—who is supposed to take their order, stays quiet and hides the notepad she’s been holding behind her back. Great.)

Yeji doesn’t like where this is going. From the look of things, her so-called friends (Yuna included) are going to leave her after Jisu finishes talking to them. This was probably the plan all along. There is no escape for Yeji as she’s trapped at the end of the booth, the four girls standing there blocking her only exit. Maybe it’s really time that she spoke to Jisu. She had to do it now.

As Ryujin, Chaeryeong, and Yuna disappear from view, Yeji opens to speak.

“Hi.” She starts, making Jisu look at her. “You should sit down.”

Jisu seems surprised at the sound of her voice. She still obliges anyway, sitting beside Yeji as she offers her a small, amused smile. “It’s nice to see you out of your room for once,” she jokes.

Yeji settles for a genuine grin. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“This is probably the first time we’ve talked by ourselves ever since I complimented you on your banana shorts.” Jisu nods to herself.

Right. The banana shorts. It’s a shame that it will be forever remembered as a part of her first real conversation with Jisu, Yeji thinks. “Oh, is it really?”

Jisu laughs softly in response. “I’m pretty sure. Do I make you that uncomfortable?”

Yikes. Yeji totally gets where the question’s coming from.

“Well…,” she trails off as she starts drumming her fingers on the table in front of her, trying to rack her brain for a real reason. She hasn’t had much time to think about how present Choi Jisu made her feel.

“Looks like a yes to me.” Jisu squints.

“Uncomfortable isn’t really the right word to describe it!” Yeji reasons, leaning on the backrest. “It just—it feels weird that I get to meet you again after so long.”

“Same here.” Her roommate smiles in the same way Yeji remembers from all those years back, unbelievably warm. “Didn’t expect Chaeryeong’s Hwang Yeji is the same kid who saved my life before my middle school graduation. I haven’t had the chance to thank you for that, by the way.”

(For the first time in her life, Yeji doesn’t feel embarrassed of the incident.)

“You’re welcome.”

“Still got your heart monitor thing, huh?”

Jisu is looking at her left wrist on the table, adorned with her old pulse watch, beeping quietly. Yeji is surprised at how calm it has been ever since this conversation started, but she’s even more surprised at how her roommate could possibly remember. She didn’t think Jisu would pay attention to things like that. Things about her.

“Well, yeah,” she answers. “It’s more of an exercise thing now.”

“Cool. I’m not much into exercising myself.”

“But you look good. You really do.”

The compliment leaves Yeji’s lips before she has time to think about it. How subtle of her, really.

“Oh. Thank you.” Jisu’s laugh is shy and makes Yeji’s smile grow.

“Say,” the latter leans in a little closer, feeling a surge of confidence run through her, “just in case you get into it, I don’t mind taking you running with me.”

“And make me miss my Saturday morning reruns over donuts?” Jisu raises an eyebrow.

Yeji nods wordlessly this time, like the countless times she had answered to Jisu before. She watches as the girl purses her lips in thought, soon reaching out to pat Yeji’s knee, looking straight into her eyes. Yeji gulps nervously.

“I’ll consider it,” Jisu finally says, all in mock seriousness. At that, Yeji beams in relief, soon chuckling under her breath.

In the middle of their surprisingly calm discussion, they barely notice when Ryujin and Chaeryeong return with food, Yuna on their tail. The conversation in the booth turns loud yet comfortable, as if they’ve done it all together many times before. Jisu falls into place easily in their little group with her honest remarks and occasional jabs, mostly at Chaeryeong.

To Yeji, their group finally feels complete.

Maybe having Choi Jisu around won’t be so bad.

Beep. Beep.

HR: 67 bpm

Yeji learns way more stuff about Jisu after that.

Firstly, she always seems to only have her coffee cold, sitting in her baby blue mug at the kitchen island whenever they have their breakfast together. Which is, surprisingly, quite often: every Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. It feels weird the first couple of times, since Yeji did spend most if not all of her time in the past avoiding Jisu like the plague. Without Yeji realizing it, it soon became routine. She only noticed after Jisu had texted her one afternoon, apologizing profusely for missing one of their “together breakfast” mornings, as she would call it.

It’s refreshing to have someone like Jisu as a roommate: someone who actually wanted to be good friends with Yeji, and not just live under the same roof as her and be tolerated by her. 

“Why dance?” Jisu asks her one Friday morning, lagging behind Yeji in a near empty street leading up to the campus. The transition to having together breakfast to having together trips to the campus is easy, like the way Jisu hums and sings whenever she thinks she’s alone. Their stomachs are filled with the leftovers Yeji heated up after a night of grueling practice, too tired to do anything else, but still intent on fulfilling her unspoken promise of spending breakfasts with her roommate.

“Why not?” Yeji muses.

Jisu laughs, taking a few strides forward to land a soft punch on Yeji’s arm. “C’mon, just answer the question. I’m genuinely curious.”

“I liked it. I remember fighting my parents to let me dance even with my heart condition growing up.” Yeji nods to herself, glancing at the girl who’s now beside her. “Eventually I grew out of it. My doctors told me that I was fine, so my parents gave me the green light. I can’t imagine myself doing anything else since then.”

“Really?”

Yeji hums in agreement.

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