The steak was disgusting. The wine was nauseating. The piano music was appalling. The chatters of the other diners were annoying. For a five-star restaurant, the service was awful.

Jongin was talking. His lips were moving and his eyes were shining. He was probably talking about something he liked. What did he like? What were his hobbies? That wasn’t about to be learned anytime soon because Jennie’s ears had tuned him out.

“... and then my friend from Seoul …”

Her head was nodding along, though. As her fork picked at the steak, her head was bobbing and was humming occasionally. Her chin rested on her palm, her fingers picking at the dead skin on her lips with no concern for the lipstick.

“... Jennie?”

“That’s interesting.”

“Jennie.”

The second time around snapped Jennie out her daze. Jongin was regarding her with concern, his eyebrows stitched and his utensils set neatly on his finished plate.

“Are you okay, Jennie?” he asked. “Were you even listening to me?”

The fork clattered on the porcelain as she sighed. “Sorry. I spaced out.”

“Are you feeling alright? You’re super pale.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

Jennie smiled wryly. “Why do you even ask if you know the answer?”

“Because that means you lie.”

Her fingers drummed on the white table sheet. “Quite an astute observation, Jongin.”

He wasn’t amused, heaving a sigh with his whole chest and leaned back on his seat. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Notice what?”

“Our relationship ending.”

There was none in the first place, the words at the tip of Jennie’s tongue. That was probably not appropriate to say with the atmosphere so tense and the subject at hand, so the mask was put on again. But the mask was heavier and harder this time, deteriorating with every wear. It was about time, simply inevitable; it was only a matter of who could look through it first.

“Neither did I.”

“That was another lie.”

There was no use now. It would’ve been scary to lay her emotions out so stark and bare, but there was nothing left to be scared of, nothing to lose; and Jennie was tired of acts, and Jongin was kind, so thus the mask fell and crumbled into ashes.

“Yes, that was a lie.”

Jongin nodded, appreciating the honesty even though the slight twitch of his lips showed hurt. “I thought so. I thought that as the wedding neared, we’d be more comfortable with each other, but honestly, you’re really hard to get close to. You’re supposed to be my wife in a month, but I have no idea who you are, what you like, and what you do. You’re a stranger. That’s a little sad, isn’t it?”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It isn’t. Neither is it yours. It’s neither of our faults, especially since it’s arranged.” He picked up his wine glass, but didn’t take a sip. He simply stared at it, the dark crimson liquid that was barely consumed. Jongin was the type to not drink alcohol when he could avoid it, but his eyes looked tempted. “So, I’ll stop trying. Let’s just get through this marriage and live comfortably afterwards, preferably away from our parents. I think that’ll be the best for us.”

Guilt should be clawing at her. The boy spent six years trying to win her love, only to have no chance to begin with. Guilt should be clawing, but there was nothing. It was relief her head nodded to, not guilt. It was terrible, the way Jongin’s heartbroken eyes casted down and that didn’t even evoke an ounce of care. That was amusing to some degree – the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

“Yes,” she said. “That’ll be for the best.”

Dinner was cut short with a wordless, awkward car ride back. The mansion was dark, so dark that the moonlight couldn’t alleviate it from the shroud. In front of the glass wine cabinet, Jennie’s reflection was unrecognizable, all dark and distorted. But it wasn’t her reflection she came here for – herself being the last thing she wanted to see tonight – it was for some wine.

Should she be drinking on an empty stomach? No, but it didn’t stop her fingers wrapping around the neck of a random bottle that looked the same as the many other bottles lined on the shelf. Where should she drink? Her room? No, this mansion was the last place she’d want to drink at.

Where should she go?

Just let the wind carry you and you’ll find things you would’ve never discovered. That’s how I like to live life.

“You’re right,” Jennie muttered to her reflection on the green, glass bottle. Sometimes it was okay to have no idea where to go. Perhaps she shouldn’t think so much and just go.

Where was Joohyun? Informing the girl of her nightly strolls was always the first thing to do, but time was of the essence and the will to find her was off putting. The impulse to go as soon as possible was the only thing keeping her from collapsing.

I won't be gone for long. It shouldn’t be a problem.

The night air kissed Jennie’s skin as the windless wind carried her along the trailing stars once more, to a place where the water was blue and the skyline stark in the horizon.

~

Her fingers ached. Her eyelids sank. The clock ticked. Tick, tick, tick. All it could do was tick, and Jisoo would’ve chucked it a long time ago with the one in her apartment if her passionate insomnia hadn’t rendered her a zombie, doomed to type away at the typewriter. Overgrown bangs tickled her eyes as they flitted between the opened journal and the ink minting on the parchment, her brain autopiloting the information to the new page.

“Damn, Jisoo. You’re still here?”

Coffee scented the office, but Jisoo’s head never turned to meet the older girl. All it could do was face the typewriter as the keys clicked away. Click, click, click. Tick, tick, tick.

“Earth to Jisoo?”

It was only until Seulgi pulled off the hood of her oversized flannel that Jisoo’s head turned. The latter was regarding her with worry, which was relieving because at least it wasn’t pity; she had enough from Chaeyoung.

“Sorry,” Jisoo said, flashing a meek smile. She removed her spectacles and rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palms. “I guess I was too busy writing to hear you.”

“I can see that,” Seulgi quipped, scanning the workplace with pursed lips. It wasn’t much, just the typewriter, an empty teacup, her satchel, her journal, and her pen in the dip of the binder. “Do you know how late it is? It’s half past one in the morning. I need to close my office sooner or later, you know.”

Jisoo scratched her head sheepishly. “Sorry for keeping you up so late.”

“That was a joke.” Seulgi scooted the teacup aside before hopping on the desk and taking a sip of her coffee. “I would’ve left a long time ago if I wanted. I’m a night owl anyway. Does Chaeyoung know you’re here?”

“No. She isn’t home. She’s celebrating her birthday with her family.”

“Oh, right. That girl is so close to her family, I can’t help but be jealous,” Seulgi chuckled.

The corners of Jisoo’s lips curled, nails picking at the denim of her knees brought up to her chest. “What have you been working on?”

“Organizing potential stories, sorting Nayeon’s job offers, blah blah blah, the boring behind the scenes stuff. Speaking of which, have you heard of the student riots near that one university? You should write about that next. That’d be a good story.”

Seulgi’s gaze was hopeful as she twiddled with the button of her coat and swayed her legs idly. It was a good time to tell her. Actually, it was the perfect time, so Jisoo’s eyes averted to focus on the stray thread of her jeans’ inner seam. There was something hard about confrontation and eye contact. Confrontation was already difficult in itself, and to look the person in the eye while saying something that’d hurt them? She’d rather not.

“Actually, Seulgi,” sighed Jisoo, “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I’m leaving.”

“What?”

“I’m going to Seoul. That one entertainment company – JYP – they offered me a job and I’m taking it.”

There was no need to look up to witness Seulgi’s crestfallen face; her legs had stopped swaying and her finger had stopped fiddling. Guilt impelled her nails to pick at the dry cuticles more forcefully.

“Okay.” Seulgi’s voice was leveled, tone cautious, but it didn’t hide the underlying disappointment. “I’m sure they’ll pay you more, and you’ll meet the biggest celebrities. That’s cool. You should get me an autograph.”

Jisoo smiled softly. “Will do.”

Seulgi puffed and set her coffee cup next to the teacup. “I guess this is your last job with me. I’ll miss you.”

“I’m still your friend. We’ll still see each other.”

“I don’t know about that. It’s pretty hard for you to keep in touch, especially without Chaeyoung’s help.”

Jisoo pouted. “I’ll try, I promise. I’ll even make reminders for myself.”

“Oh, so you need reminders to even think about your friends?”

“Hey! I’m trying.”

Seulgi laughed when Jisoo slapped her knee, the infectious giggle enticing one from Jisoo herself. The giggles ebbed into chuckles, which eased into soft smiles, and finally silence – a comfortable, bittersweet silence.

“You should get some sleep soon,” commented Seulgi, tenderly brushing Jisoo’s disheveled hair. “Your eyebags are so bad that you look like a racoon.”

“I will. I just – I just need to finish this.”

“Alright, but don’t kill yourself over it. You’re only human. Do you want some of my coffee?”

“Thanks.” Jisoo graciously accepted the cup, the porcelain warm in her hands, the drink even warmer in her stomach. Before her lips moved to take another sip, a buzz vibrated in her satchel.

“Woah, who’d message at this hour?” Seulgi wondered as Jisoo scrambled to fish the pager out the bag.

“Beats me,” Jisoo said, feeble fingers fumbling to turn the pager upright. Once the message was discernible, everything stopped.

Meet at cafe now - J

J?

J…

It took many shoulder nudges from Seulgi to yank Jisoo out of the dark pool. Suffocation subsided as the bleariness of the other’s wide, concerned eyes cleared, her moving lips saying something that wasn’t distinguishable at first until it was said for the nth time.

“Who is it?”

Jisoo swallowed thickly. “I think – I think it’s Jennie.”

“Jennie? Kim? What does she want if the biography is done – woah!” Seulgi yelped when Jisoo shot up from her seat and bolted toward the door, the suddenness almost knocking the girl over. “Hey, you forgot your stuff!”

“I’ll be back!” Jisoo shouted over her shoulder, already halfway down the hall. By the time the inference that the elevator would take too long crossed her mind, her feet had carried her down the long flight of stairs and into the night.

Either from the coffee or the profound adrenaline, the energy pumping through Jisoo’s veins was an engine worthy of a train, driving her down the main street at lightning speed. Some pedestrians stumbled out of the way, some yelled curses, but none of that was fazing – not even the scary fact that a mere, obscure message from the very person she wasn’t supposed to see again had her sprinting in a heartbeat.

Everything was scary, and some sort of mechanism should’ve developed by now to shy her away from scary things, like the silhouette by the streetlamp in front of the café. It was scary, it was dangerous, but the survival instinct to retreat was nonexistent as she stumbled headfirst into a halt, chest heaving and hands on her knees as the figure turned around.

“Jennie?”

But it wasn’t her. From the lighting of the lamp, the cap shadowed the upper half of the person’s face, yet her tresses were black instead of brown, her face thin instead of round, her nose tall instead of button. The cap was removed, revealing…

“Joohyun?”

“Jisoo.”

Confusion rendered Jisoo speechless for a moment, comprehension hindered from gasping breaths of air. “What are you doing here? Were you the one that messaged me?”

Joohyun nodded, her expression grim. “I did. I have a concern, but you weren’t home.”

“Okay, uhm,” Jisoo leaned her elbow on the lamp post and rested her hand on her hip, “What is it?”

“Do you know where Jennie is?”

caught. Shouldn’t she be at home? “Jennie? No, I haven’t seen her for a few weeks. What’s the problem? Wouldn’t she tell you where she’d gone?”

“That’s the problem. She didn’t tell me.” Joohyun pursed her lips. “It’s been hours since Jongin took her home; I don’t know where she is and I can’t ask around the house.” She furrowed her eyebrows and rubbed her forehead. “She hasn’t been herself these days either. Her mood swings a lot, but for as long as I’ve known her, the swing had never been this severe. I think she took a bottle of wine, too. The cabinet was missing one when I cleaned it a while ago.”

Jisoo’s heart dropped. “Wine?”

“Yes. I’m worried sick, Jisoo. I thought you’d know where she is, but it looks like neither of us know.”

“No.” Jisoo shook her head, her feet backpedaling one by one. “I’ll find her. I’ll find her. Don’t worry, Joohyun, I’ll find her.”

Joohyun’s shout for her name was drowned out by the strident pounds of everything; not only her heart or her head, but her whole body and the whole world. Everything was pounding, screaming, and agonizing as her worn sneakers slammed on the pavement – each stride shooting shocks through her muscles, each step thunderous with vehemence.

I was wrong, Jennie.

The phantom drops of spring rain pierced her skin at the bottom of the winding slope of the rich neighborhood. The ghost of puddles splashed on her legs and soaked her socks underneath the green awning of the closed library.

Jennie wasn’t here.

I say that I can forget you –

The boughs of the looming tree painted the grass with fragments of moonlight, the leaves whispering to her in abstract languages throughout the park. The light of the movie title box flickered and buzzed, the faded names and posters matching with the poignant smell of the rundown theater as it wafted past her.

Jennie wasn’t here.

– but up until now –

The dog bone sign creaked as it swayed ever so slightly over the door, the nonadhesive corners of the flyers on the window fluttering from the wind of her sprint. A snowflake kissed her skin, the air chilly at the cracked road of the convenience store towered by apartment complexes.

Jennie… she wasn’t here…

– I know I can’t let you go –

Her legs buckled, a cry of pain jolting her feet to a staggering stop. The scent of a river was in the air as Jisoo scrambled for the bridge’s railing for support, the metal crashing into her rib cage and robbing her of the little breath she had. From head to toe, every inch of her body was throbbing in agony, and she could only choke a sob once her knees hit the concrete and her back flattened on the iron.

– or give up on you.

“Jennie, where are you?” she bawled up toward the sky, the cries scratching raw. “Where are you? Where are you? Where are you. Where are you...”

“Jisoo?” what sounded like Jennie’s voice echoing in her head. Not only was Jisoo crazy, but she was hallucinating as well. How fitting for her unhinged state of mind. Two could play that game.

“Where are you?” she hoarsely answered to the voice.

“Over here.”

That was a little too real in her left ear. Through her bleary vision, there was someone sitting in the middle of the bridge directly linear to Jisoo, the profile tiny – almost a mere dot in the distance.

“Jennie?” Hauling herself up with the railing, Jisoo’s hands gripped the ice cold metal as they pulled her inch by inch toward the person. Her feet occasionally stumbled from painful spikes in her ankles, but dedicated determination had her teeth gritted and her eyes focused on the small figure. “Jennie?”

The bridge was pitch dark, the only sources of light being the streetlamps at the ends and the moonlight that casted a long shadow. The steady rhythm of the river’s stream was more prominent the nearer the midpoint was, the throbs ebbing into a dull pulse with the area’s strange serenity. By the time the midpoint was reached, the only things seizing Jisoo’s senses were her breathing and the girl in front of her – donned in an evening dress and mismatched house slippers, her knees hugged to her chest with a wine bottle by her side and shivering uncontrollably.

“Jennie,” Jisoo sniffled, wiping the wetness underneath her eyes with the cuff of her sleeve. Because the one thing that felt reasonably real was the stinging iron in her palm, the urge to reach out to Jennie was ever the more enticing – just to make sure she wasn’t a figment of her imagination. But out of all the things that were scary, this had to be the one that prompted hesitation when Jisoo’s hand hovered just above the head of brown hair, only to loosely fall by her side.

What if she wasn’t real? What if Jisoo’s hand passed right through her and broke her heart all over again? Perhaps it was for the better not to check, and let reality check itself out tonight. At least her heart was at peace for the moment.

“Jennie,” Jisoo said again, her voice wavering. “What are you doing out here? Do you know what time it is? It’s really late; it’s dangerous to be out here alone at this hour. You didn’t even bring a sweater; you’re going to get sick.” Her fingers ran through her hair in fatigued frustration. “ Jennie, what were you thinking?”

For a silent moment, Jennie stared up at Jisoo, her expression with the usual void of transparency, before dropping her gaze to the river. Jisoo sighed, picking up the glass bottle. This was tangible at least, the lightness indicating it’d been emptied wholly.

“Did you drink this whole thing by yourself?”

Another silence answered her. Jennie was rubbing her arms folded tightly to her chest, so Jisoo shrugged off her flannel and draped it over the girl’s tiny frame. In only her red tee, the air was harsh to the skin, but that didn’t matter all that much; it didn’t matter at all. A lot didn’t matter at the moment.

“Jennie.” Jisoo knelt down carefully, wincing from the audible cracks of her legs. “You can’t stay here. You need to go home.”

Jennie regarded her from the corner of her eye. Instead of another silence, she mumbled, “I don’t want to go back to that place.”

Jisoo worried her lip as the girl returned to watching the river, and Jisoo’s eyes couldn’t help but track her eyesight as well. The water was a black abyss, capturing the moonlight in patches of gray on its rippling surface. The waves were subtle, just enough to distort the moon’s reflection as they rolled down the bank. The skyline was hazy with fog, but the tall buildings were stark against the dark blue. In front of them stretched a landscape that was a painting, and they were merely observers into this slumbering world.

“How about I take you back to my place?” Jisoo prodded cautiously, attentive for any signs of disfavor. When the other’s face remained stoic, she continued, “You can stay there. As long as you need. You don’t have to go back. I’ll tell Joohyun, but only if that’s fine with you. Does that sound good?”

“But I have to. I have to go back. I know I have to go back eventually.”

“Then, just stay at my place for the time being. At least not,” she gestured to their surroundings, “here. It’ll be warmer.”

The corners of Jennie’s lips twitched. “I have wedding preparations tomorrow. What will happen?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out.” She offered her hand. “Together.”

Jennie eyed Jisoo’s open palm apprehensively. A small breeze wafted stray strands on her thin cheeks that used to be so plumped before. The compulsion to tuck away the strands and cup the girl’s face itched Jisoo’s nerves, but she stood her ground. The palm was still open, still cold, still empty.

But that was okay because waiting for Jennie was second nature – and for Jennie, Jisoo would wait forever.

There was no telling how much time had passed with the only sound being the trickling water. Jisoo’s knees throbbed, the overexerted energy crushing her muscles, but they stayed planted. With every breeze, the shivers became harder and harder to combat, but the palm remained inflexible – still open, still cold, still empty.

Just a little more. Just a little longer.

Jennie moved her hand. The motion was slow, sedated, and nerve-racking as her tiny palm hovered over the surface of Jisoo’s. Tiny, but fitting – the perfect puzzle piece once the space between them enclosed, the creases slipping into place like they never left, their fingers wrapping and locking the ember from the winter. With one hand entwined and the other on the girl’s opposite forearm, Jennie unsteadily rose to her feet, much of her weight on Jisoo.

“Can you walk?” Jisoo asked, gingerly pulling the lapels of the flannel closer.

Although Jennie weakly nodded, her first step sent her stumbling into Jisoo who almost fell backward from her weight, her legs trembling to heave them back upright.

“No, don’t try. You can’t.” Jisoo worried her lip, exhaling deeply before turning around and bending over, her arms brought behind as her fingers coaxed the girl. “Get on my back.”

“Are you sure you can carry me?”

“Yes. We won’t get anywhere in your state.”

“Jisoo, you’re shaking.”

She grimaced. Nothing passed that girl’s keen sight. “Don’t worry about it. Just trust me.”

The longer the silence dragged on, the more Jisoo’s muscles burned. Her head hankered to look back until delicate arms draped over her shoulders, the warmth of the girl’s body pressed on her back as she feebly climbed onto it. Jisoo’s knees dipped lower to help out – panging in protest – and when Jennie was securely on with the support of Jisoo’s forearms bearing her thighs, one grunt heaved them off the ground.

The first second cracked her bones. The second second blurred her vision. The third second inflamed her lungs. The fourth second evoked a whimper that her tongue couldn’t catch in time. The seventh second regained some balance. The tenth second was a precarious step. The twentieth second was another. Then, another and another. By the third hundredth second, the piercing cold ebbed into a kindling fire that was Jennie as their melded shadows trudged through the dull lights of street lamps. Jennie’s breathing quivered in a steady rhythm – faint, weak, but there.

She was real. Broken, but real.

“I miss you.”

Jisoo’s breath hitched. It was barely discerned and would’ve been missed if it wasn’t mumbled next to her ear, if the girl’s breathing wasn’t the only thing relevant to her senses. But her eyes stuck ahead to the length of the empty street.

“I miss you,” sighed Jennie. “Saying this makes me miss you even more.” Her arms slightly wrapped themselves closer around Jisoo, around her palpitating heart. “Everything just reminds me of you. I miss you.”

Maybe there was a feeling, maybe there wasn’t; Jisoo could only look ahead because if she looked anywhere else, she might collapse. The ideal that there was no other way but forward was promising, but that was wrong. Forward and backward were one and the same because everything was circles with no real direction. They were walking forward and backward and left and right and all around, dropping fragments of each other wherever they go. Everything was scattered in every nook and cranny, impossible to recover and impossible to piece back together. It’s the existence of those remnants that indefinitely tied them together, the invisible string never cut because it was held by a thread that was their memories.

Since it was impossible to forget, bearing it was the only thing to do – the only thing left to do – but it was for naught. It didn’t help, it couldn’t help. Not when it’s painful to have Jennie by, but even more painful to have her away. Not when it’s suffocating to have Jennie’s warmth, but even more suffocating to lack it. And the cruelest of all was time – the way it ripped them apart, only to stitch them back together imperfectly.

So, no, it didn’t help. There was no cure. It would be easier to think that was okay, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay because it was killing her – killing them. They were the other’s ultimate demise and it couldn’t be helped, not when it was so easy to walk backward into each other until it was no longer chance but fate.

“I miss you too,” whispered Jisoo, unsure whether the latter heard her at all.

Upon the bottom of the apartment’s stairwell, Jisoo helped ease Jennie off her back and onto her feet. Leaning on one another, each of their steps clambered up with support of the railing. It was clumsy and grueling, but once Jisoo rummaged the extra key from under the doormat and stumbled into the apartment, the huff of relief was well earned once they plopped on the couch, breathless.

There was no clock this time, no irking ticks counting down. Only inhales and exhales – ticks of their own – with their reflections distorted on the television screen. A lot of things were distorted these days. Wondrous, really. Wondrous in the sense that everything was distorted, but Jennie remained patent: her milky complexion that glowed in the moonlight, her disheveled, brown locks that tumbled over her shoulders in the neatest, messiest way, her pale lips that parted and unparted with wordless speech, and her hooded eyes that spelled everything at once.

Jisoo’s throat was parched. Swallowing was difficult and talking was toiling, so she husked, “I’ll get you warmer clothes. Wait here.”

But Jisoo barely left the couch before she was pulled back under by arms around her waist, pinning her in the crook of the backing and armrest.

“Can you stay with me?”

It was scary, the way she didn’t need to ask. She didn’t need to ask because all Jisoo needed was to be told and she’d do it in a heartbeat. All it took was one word to surrender, one touch to unravel, and Jisoo was at the mercy of those alluring, brown eyes. Her light, unsteady breaths tickled, her lips so close yet so far. One mere inch, but to seal it was terrifying; it hung in the balance and one wrong move may break it all.

“What is it, Jennie?” whispered Jisoo, so faint that it was solely distinct due to the scarce space between them.

Yearning, fear, intoxication, everything in between; it was the first time that Jennie could be read without perusing. She was bare – everything laid out – and all Jisoo had to do was put it together. But it was impossible to think, much less comprehend, much less do anything when Jennie’s hand lingered on her thigh, tantalizing to the touch. The air was full of Jennie – all pungent wine and rich perfume that was inebriating to the scent, but there was nothing rich about the girl right now. Rich or wrecked, the difference was unperceivable when the heat that was so unbearable – its boiling point threatening to peak at any millisecond – as all the rationale to resist slipped out her head with every passing beat.

Jisoo missed her.

Jisoo needed her.

Jisoo wanted her.

Jisoo wanted Jennie so bad.

And all Jennie had to do was say it.

“I want you.”