It hurt to breathe.

Tingles, numbness, buzzes, stillness; paralyzed, Jisoo’s fingertips were unable to fathom the ground and its pebbles and dirt and cracks. The pressure was killing her — anchoring her between it and the pavement, and squeezing everything out: breath, feeling, life.

Although the pavement was suffocating, rolling on her back proved no better; far worse, actually. At least on the concrete was its coolness on her cheek because there was nothing above. Not a breeze; not even the sun. The towering shadows of buildings made it all the colder, all the scarier; trapping, looming, mocking. The apexes looked down on her, and the tinted windows — people must be watching her right now, dying helpless and alone like some sort of sick show. Front seats to a judgment day.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Her nails clawed at her chest, the relentless hammering threatening to rip it open and tear her apart. Everything blurred and spun, a series of blacks and whites and shapes and lights — especially that increasingly bright, white light — that stung her eyes. Inside and out, this pain, this agony — she might just really be in hell. That’s where they want her to go anyway, considering they left her for dead like this.

It was like that god-awful church. Everyone’s disgusted eyes crowded around her, caging and tying her down like some animal. All their touches scalded; all their words stabbed. And perhaps she was really going to die like what they prayed for. Prayers really did come true, didn’t they? But they must be biased because why hadn’t any come true for Jisoo? Then again, she hadn’t prayed that much… the last time she prayed… when was that…?

“Help.”

Nothing but a feeble hush barely escaped. No one was here to listen, no one to help.

“Please help.”

No one.

Jisoo was all alone.

She was all alone once again.

It couldn’t be a coincidence anymore, right? Back then, people came and, regardless if they stayed for even just a little, eventually left one way or the other. They always left. Who cared about what Jisoo had with them? When, in the moment, it was so easy to get lost and not have a care in the world? All those moments that became memories, were they worth this pain? Living in the present was always something lived by, but in retrospect, it was probably her biggest mistake; a distraction from the inevitable.

But it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair! She tried so hard to do good, to make something out of herself, to contribute something to the world: her words, her writing, just something. How was it fair to judge her on one basis? It wasn’t fair. One person she had liked, and one she loved. Only one girl and she was taken away. Jisoo lost her again, and now she was left with nothing.

There was nothing to lose anymore.

The bottom of that river didn’t sound too bad now. She used to stand on the ledge, the railing pressed against her back. The only thing that kept her from falling was the lock of her elbows and tight fingers around the metal. The breeze had never felt so good though, at that moment. It kissed her skin tenderly, caressed her hair, and sang an incomprehensible tune that didn’t need to be understood to ease all her worries. Nature’s touch and beauty swayed her feet onto solid earth.

Jisoo had lost a button on her blazer that day. It must’ve fallen into the water. However, it didn’t matter that much because the spring rain came shortly after. Nature cleansed her, and led her by the hand to a new beginning — the girl under the library awning with the shiny barrette in her hair.

But now there was no breeze. Nature wasn’t here in the heart of the city. Wind was exiled by the walls, roots suppressed and divided by the concrete she splayed on. It wasn’t here to comfort or save her this time.

The ringing was getting louder. It stifled the running footsteps.

Was someone here to help her? Or to laugh at her? Spit on her? That was funny to think about. She would laugh if it weren’t for this ing pressure, so only a pathetic whimper escaped that was worth a wheeze after. The sky was unbearably white. The only way to ward it off was to close her eyes, but something told her they might not open again if she were to close them. A head of short, curly hair graced the sky, the face unrecognizable from the backing of the light. Perhaps it was God? Coming to punish her for not attending church anymore? Should she beg for forgiveness? But why — why did she have to do that? Forgive her for what? What did she do so wrong?

“...soo?” The voices were underwater. There were two of them hovering on either side. The one to the right was familiar though, with her brown locks and soft hands that brushed away the hair from Jisoo’s face, the distinct smell of coffee that always lingered in and out of the café at her fingertips.

Chaeyoung…

No, Jisoo did have something to lose. At the brink of death showed what else there was to live for. It wasn’t like before when she had nothing at all. There were people who loved her, people who cared for her, people she cared for, people she loved. She had so much to say to Chaeyoung. So much to say, too much to say — too much appreciation, gratefulness, and love. It wouldn’t have been able to be verbalized anyway because there weren’t any words to pinpoint the exactness of it all. But maybe a simple “I love you” would do it; she should at least establish that. But was strangled, wearing a knot too tight and twice its size. Her nails jabbed and clawed at it. Did they understand? Maybe the other person couldn’t, but Chaeyoung would.

“...panic…!” Those soft hands clambered to cup Jisoo’s cheeks. “Call… there’s a phone booth…”

While trying to gasp for air, Jisoo’s lips were suddenly filled with a blue plastic. Overwhelming and abrupt, a surge of air into her lungs rendered her brain shocked and Jisoo a wheezing fit. The ringing and pounding ceased as she coughed and sputtered, grasping to control the air rushing in. Chaeyoung had let go of her face. Jisoo spazzed on the ground, spitting and crying everywhere that would’ve been embarrassing if not the predicament.

“What is that?” Chaeyoung asked.

“An inhaler.” Ah, Jisoo could recognize her now. It was Lisa in a cap and hoodie, wiggling that blue plastic in her hand.

“Are you okay?” Chaeyoung regarded Jisoo, moving her hair over her shoulders to peer down with concern.

Jisoo blinked the tears away and tasted her dry mouth. “Yes,” she croaked. “Wow, I thought I was going to die.”

Before Jisoo could take another breath, she got a faceful of Chaeyoung’s chest. The girl hugged Jisoo’s head tight as she sobbed, “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it.”

“She might suffocate again if you hug her like that,” Lisa said, standing up from kneeling.

“Ah, I’m sorry!” Chaeyoung released her embrace, cradling Jisoo’s head instead. “Are you okay? Oh my god, look at all these cuts —”

“Yeah,” Jisoo coughed and sat up with Chaeyoung’s help, wincing from the strain. Nausea rushed upon sitting upright, all gravity lurching forward. She gagged, but nothing came up — oh, that’s right; she hadn’t eaten breakfast this morning. That would be the only thing she’d thank god for because she was already a mess, and vomiting would just add salt to the wound. Touching the stinging sensation on her swollen bottom lip, her finger withdrew blood.

“Your wheelchair is banged,” Lisa clicked her tongue, poking the bent wheels with her foot. “Who’d in their right mind would do that? How evil.”

The wheelchair was the last thing on Jisoo’s mind; although the blessing that was the numbness was slowly dissipating to surface the physical pain. “Where’s Jennie?” she heaved.

“We don’t know,” Chaeyoung sniffed, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater. “When we arrived, it was only you.” She whimpered and dabbed Jisoo’s cheek, tucking the matted hair aside. “, what have they done to you…?”

“They took her back,” Jisoo mused disheartenedly, the pang hard to talk through as reality crashed down. “Why do they keep taking her back? They…” she tried to flex her right hand on her lap, but it was too stiff and too swollen purple, “... keep winning…”

Chaeyoung pursed her lips and sighed, “Let’s get out of here first. Lisa, where are you going?”

Lisa, who had waltzed a little down the street to the phone booth, peered over her shoulder from the mention of her name. “I’m calling Bambam. He has a car and I don’t trust calling the hospital.”

“Ah, okay.” Chaeyoung returned to Jisoo and carefully cupped her injured hand. Jisoo winced, biting back a hiss. “God, you keep getting yourself hurt.”

Jisoo cracked a small smile at the sight of the younger girl’s red nose and puffy eyes, and let her forehead rest against her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Chaeng.”

Chaeyoung merely sighed and Jisoo’s hair. “What am I going to do with you…”

Bambam was expected to arrive in about twenty minutes. Meanwhile, Chaeyoung and Lisa helped Jisoo lay on a nearby bench, and while those two conversed quietly a few feet away, Jisoo gazed at the sky. There were a million things to worry about: her career, her future, her hand that was now impossible to feel, her ankle that could very well be permanently broken, and the wheelchair that her and Chaeyoung most definitely had to compensate for. But despite everything, this heartache managed to make all of that irrelevant because of how much more prominent the pain was; painful enough that it was difficult to think about anything else. , why couldn’t Jisoo think about important things for once? Her hand trailed across her abdomen — the spot Jennie had touched so tenderly — and winced on contact. There must be bruises all over her body from all those kicks. Chaeyoung took a seat by Jisoo’s head, and there was a moment of silence before the girl spoke.

“Hey, remember that Joohyun girl?”

Jisoo perked up slightly. “Yes. Why?”

“She came by the café this morning and asked for you. It looked like she was traveling because she carried a suitcase. But you were gone, and then Seulgi came by, and then the news broke out, so I left Joohyun with Seulgi.” Chaeyoung hummed in thought. “Why did she come by?”

“Honestly, I think she got fired,” Jisoo said. “She got caught helping Jennie by Mister Kim, so getting kicked out and looking for someone she knows makes a lot of sense. Is she doing well?”

“I didn’t get the chance to really talk to her, but it looked like she was okay. But from what I learned nowadays, looking okay doesn’t necessarily equate to being okay.”

Jisoo met Chaeyoung’s eyes — sunken and laced with exhaustion. “Are you okay, Chaeyoung?”

Chaeyoung crooked a halfhearted smile. “How about you worry about yourself first, Jisoo, before asking about others?”

Before Jisoo could give it much thought, the rev of an engine slowed down nearby. Parked by the curb was a tiny, grey car, and Bambam — who looked as if he had rolled out of bed with disheveled hair and a wrinkled, plain tee — rushing out toward them. Once in front of them, he caught his breath and surveyed between the three and the wheelchair.

“What happened?” he asked, hands on his hips. “Sorry, I just woke up from a nap, and I took some wrong turns coming here. It sounded urgent.”

“We’ll talk back at my place,” Lisa said and gestured to Jisoo. “Help carry Jisoo into the car; she can’t walk on her own. I’ll put this wheelchair in the trunk.”

Lisa and Bambam sat in the front, and Chaeyoung and Jisoo sat at the back. It was one of those rare occasions where it was a relief that Jisoo didn’t have the long legs of Chaeyoung because with her legs stretched out across the backseat, it barely fit. The rest of the ride flew by rather quickly with very few words exchanged, and the streets the car window displayed blurred by like a film sped up. Eventually, a rich estate of towering apartments rolled in. After verifying their identity to the security guard at the gate, Bambam drove into the parking lot.

“Welcome to my place,” Lisa chimed, arms out as she spun and skipped into her complex. “Make yourself at home.”

“So this is where all the celebrities live?” Jisoo quipped in awe as Bambam, who carried her bridal style, lowered her onto the big chaise longue. Although he insisted it wasn’t a problem to carry her, Jisoo couldn’t help but feel guilty to see him out of breath after the journey up eight floors (by the elevator). “It’s cool.”

Rarely would Jisoo see a place so brightly lit and modern. Unlike at ground level, this height let the sunlight stream in all its rays and hues, brightening the apartment in pure daylight. And from how the window view overlooked the city, this seemed like one of the tallest towers in the city. Jisoo and Chaeyoung’s place was ghastly compared to here.

“Most celebrities,” Lisa said, sitting on the counter stool. “Jung Haein is actually my neighbor.”

“The one that starred in Snowdrop?” Chaeyoung gawked, stopping in her tracks to admire the room. “Your neighbor?”

“Yeah. Want an autograph? He’s just down the hall —”

“Oh my god, your cats!”

“Oh god, your cats,” Jisoo groaned upon the sight of a train of the five pets sauntering out from who knew where toward Lisa.

“Not the cats,” Bambam grumbled into his glass of water, much to Lisa’s glare.

“My children!” Lisa beamed, picking up a big one. “You never met them, have you? This is Lily; that’s Luca; there’s Leo, Louis, and Lego.”

With the cats moving and jumping around with similar furs, it was hard to distinguish who was who. The fat one was Lily; that’s all Jisoo knew.

“Once you get Lisa to talk about her cats,” Bambam added, “she’ll never shut up.”

“Do not!” Lisa retorted with a pout and hugged Lily closer. “But aren’t they so cute? Look.”

“Oh, no thanks, uhm —” Jisoo struggled to inch away from one cat (Luca?) when he jumped onto the cushion. “I’m actually allergic.”

“Oh!” Lisa scrambled to scoop up Luca and ward off the others with her foot. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay — ah-choo!”

“Lisa, do you have bandages and ointment?” Chaeyoung called from the kitchen, presumably collecting ice in a towel. “We need to take care of Jisoo’s injuries.”

“I’ll get them,” Bambam insisted and set his cup down. “They’re in the closet.”

While Bambam and Chaeyoung busied themselves with collecting the aid, Lisa sat on the chair next to the chaise after shooing the cats away. Jisoo shrugged off her flannel and sunk into the soft cushions.

“You live alone, huh?” Jisoo asked, pondering the numerous interviews conducted to write that biography. That seemed like ages ago.

“Yep,” Lisa replied, taking off her cap and fixing her hair. “Not including my cats.”

“It must be lonely. I mean, I always had Chaeyoung to come home to. I can’t really imagine living by myself.”

Lisa smiled. “It’s not too bad when you aren’t home that often in the first place. I’m always busy, so I rarely come here. At least I have Bambam to feed my cats.”

About Lisa, about Lisa… her parents lived in Thailand; she was offered an opportunity to model and came to Korea alone; from being a foreigner came severe xenophobia; despite it all, she rose to the top. And at first glance, as Lisa watched Chaeyoung over her shoulder, Jisoo wouldn’t have figured the girl had gone through all of that at such a young age.

“Who would’ve known you’re going through all that?” Jisoo had commented in one of their interviews at one of Lisa’s shootings since she was too busy to talk anywhere else. “You’re always smiling whenever I see you.”

“That’s the point,” Lisa grinned. “Maybe I should look into the acting industry, seeing how easily I’ve fooled everyone.”

“So, what happens now?” Bambam asked after Chaeyoung patched up Jisoo’s hand and ankle and they filled Bambam in with the whole story over cups of tea.

“My career is over, basically,” Jisoo sighed. From the corner of her eye, Chaeyoung flinched. The truth was harsh, and saying it out loud was harsher. “Things like these blow over given time, but I don’t think I’ll get hired ever again.”

“You really love writing, though,” Chaeyoung mumbled.

“You know what they say; all good things must come to an end.”

“Jisoo,” Chaeyoung said more sternly. “This isn’t the time to joke.”

“I’m not joking —”

“You are.” She stood up and waved her arms around. “You’re so nonchalant about things that are serious. You disregard yourself and the importance of it all. Jisoo, this is your livelihood, your passion. Now it’s been stripped away. How could you not be angrier?”

Jisoo, with her bottom lip between her teeth, set her teacup down on the coffee table. Lisa and Bambam watched silently, almost shrinking away from the increasingly exasperated Chaeyoung. “Who says I’m not angry?”

Chaeyoung faltered. Jisoo continued.

“I am angry, Chaeng. Please don’t be angry for me. I’m angry, but I’m helpless. The damage is already done, so what good is it to cry and yell?” She paused and relaxed her shoulders. “I’ll figure it out. All I need to do is look forward.”

“What’s your plan then?” Chaeyoung sighed, her temper distinguished and all that was left was weariness. “You said you’ll figure it out; what are you going to do?”

Everyone’s eyes were on her. Jisoo shifted uncomfortably, opting to scratch the bandages on her hand to ease off the tension. The answer at the tip of her tongue wouldn’t make Chaeyoung happy, but it was what her heart was saying. In order to move on, to look forward, it must be done.

“I need to attend Jennie’s wedding.”

~

Two weeks.

One week.

Three days.

Tomorrow.

The wedding day couldn’t have arrived any quicker.

Sleepless nights, heartache, empty stomachs, dread; the ability to track time slipped away. Lying in thorns that were the bed of the bedroom Jennie occupied in the house she was in, the ceiling had been memorized again and again. This wasn’t Jennie’s bed, or her bedroom, or her house. No matter how many times her father dug that into her brain and ordered her door locked and monitored at all times, she refused to accept it. Jennie didn’t belong here.

Her mother wasn’t sick; Jongin wasn’t devastated; Taehyung hadn’t even tried looking for her. In actuality, he outright didn’t care.

“Father did lose his mind when he found out you were gone,” Taehyung said one evening when he cared to visit Jennie in the bedroom. He had probably never been here before, the unfamiliarity evident in his awkward demeanor sitting on the foot of the bed. His hair was cut from its usual shagginess into a neater style, most likely to prepare for the military. “It’s quite impressive, really, how you managed to pull that off. If it’d been that easy to walk out of this house, I would’ve done so ages ago.”

Jennie snorted. “Walking out is easy. Staying out is the hard part.”

Taehyung managed a smile, too, that made him look younger. He didn’t smile very often.

“Yeah, he’s always been good at finding people. I heard what happened,” he continued, picking at the stray threads of his hoodie. “Not only did you go out, but you went out in style. He’s going insane trying to clear up reports about you being — well —”

“Lesbian?”

Taehyung nodded. “You really are?”

“I suppose I am. Are you weirded out?”

“No,” he responded in a heartbeat. “I don’t really give a about who you like.”

“Of course you don’t,” Jennie chuckled. “And I wouldn’t say I went out in style. It was horrible out there.”

Sympathy flashed in Taehyung’s eyes, which took Jennie by surprise. He rubbed the nape of his neck. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just amused that Father is losing his mind.”

“Don’t worry, I know what you mean. You should’ve seen the look on his face when I confessed in public. Absolutely priceless.”

Taehyung let out a small chuckle of his own. “I wish. It must’ve been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

The corners of Jennie’s lips curled, and she sat upright and scooted closer to her brother. Taehyung watched her out of curiosity as she hummed, running her fingers through her hair.

“Hey, Taehyung,” Jennie said cautiously. “I was wondering if you’d do me a favor.”

“A favor?”

“Yep.” She fiddled with her fingers on her lap.

“What is it?”

“When the time comes, will you help me run away?”

His eyes widened. “Again? After all that? But you said staying out was hard.”

“That’s why I attend to not get caught again. I only stayed in this city because I had to take care of something before I could leave. But this time,” Jennie puffed her chest, “I’m running away for good. I was thinking of doing it after the wedding since that’s Father’s main focus anyway. When that’s done, then he’ll have a lesser incentive to find me because he’d already have all the business things he wanted out of this marriage. I’ll be as good as trash disposed of. They have me on lockdown in here. I just need you to distract them.”

Taehyung stared at her finger on his knee for a moment, the gears in his brain grinding. He finally looked up to meet Jennie’s eyes with that mutual, mischievous glint.

“I guess the Kims will be children-less in the near future.” He held his hand out for a shake. “I’m in.”

~

Wedding days weren’t as magical and joyous as the media depicted them to be. Or maybe it was just Jennie’s wedding that made Jisoo sick to the stomach.

Everything about the Kims never failed to be grand. The venue — the world-class hotel in Seoul — was as beautiful as it was scary. Arches, fountains, pillars, hedges, and tiles decorated all the way down the block, it was a palace in the midst of the city. A view that should be magnificent was nothing of the sort to Jisoo when standing in front of it, her arm crossed in Chaeyoung’s to lean on for support. It hurt to walk, but it wasn’t the time to show weakness.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Chaeyoung whispered, eyes transfixed ahead. She was beautiful today, adorning a lavender, formal dress with her hair ironed into wavy curls. But Chaeyoung’s rigidness gave away that she was afraid, probably from the possibility someone would recognize Jisoo, although Jisoo had reassured her that everyone forgot about the situation. As long as Jisoo didn’t stick out like a sore thumb, to which she adorned a crimson dress, then no one would regard her twice. That was just how it was with scandals like those.

Once the question was posed, Jisoo wasn’t quite sure anymore. The plan prior to today was so simple: fit a dress with Lisa’s help, use Nayeon’s invitation to enter the wedding, choose flats over heels because heels would be way too much for her healing ankle (that thankfully still had the chance to recover). Her hand, despite shrunken from its swollen state, still hurt to move and was so awfully discolored that the yellow-ish blue distinctly showed through Lisa’s make-up. In retrospect, Jisoo was ready for the wedding — but for the purpose of attending the wedding, she wasn’t quite truly ready.

Fourteen days and nights weren’t enough to prepare for anything; it was hardly time at all. Regardless, it all led up to this moment, and all Jisoo had to do was get through the crowd swarming into the banquet hall to get somewhere quiet, someplace safe. Then what? Already did her heart ache at the thought of Jennie, but to see her — what would she say, what would she do? Jisoo was going to commit so many mistakes, and coming here was already one of them.

“It’s the only way,” Jisoo responded, squaring her shoulders. “There’s no moment but now.”

Chaeyoung regarded her — the initial uncertainty turned to pity — then her eyes flitted somewhere else, and she took a sharp intake of breath. “There’s Lisa. Let’s go.”

~

Everything about the wedding was everything Jennie wanted to run away from: fancy wear, rich champagne, meaningless small talks, fake smiles, this awful dress, and the worst of them all: the marriage. At least this time Jennie didn’t owe anyone a smile or kind words. She left that all to Jongin as they walked around greeting the guests.

Jongin hadn’t spoken a word about Jennie’s absence when they first saw each other since then, which was this morning. He must have heard the news — the whole neighborhood had — but all he said was a simple, “Let’s get this over with,” and Jennie was absolutely grateful. How did weddings go about again? The arrivals, the ceremony — oh god, the ceremony. It’s in a few minutes, and Jennie still couldn’t fathom it. Even water churned her stomach with the reality ever so taunting.

And on top of all that, Chaeyoung was here.

Wait, why was Chaeyoung here?

Jennie shouldn’t have sent everyone invitations.

Exceptionally tall and beautiful were Chaeyoung and Lisa when they approached Jennie, and exceptionally scary with their dour expressions. While Jongin chatted with a Mister, Jennie’s heart erratically pounded with every step the two girls took toward her. Were they going to murder Jennie? Yell at her? Pull her hair? Chaeyoung might murder her actually, from the way she glared —

“Come to the second-floor balcony.”

Like a whisper in the wind, Chaeyoung came and left with the sweet scent of her hair product in her wake. Jongin was looking at Jennie, concerned in his gentleness. He probably didn’t see that Chaeyoung had talked to her; the encounter was rather quick.

“Do you need to rest, Jennie?” he asked. “You’re a little pale.”

“I don’t feel too well, uhm —” Jennie handed him her untouched glass of champagne, “I need to use the restroom.”

A flight of stairs was nothing and — despite Jennie’s heels, large dress, and the bundle of skirt she had to carry to even walk, less run — the elevator wasn’t an option when her legs worked faster than her mind. The hallway was an eternal road of carpet and doors, but at the end was the opening to the night sky, brighter than anything else in this venue. It was when Jennie finally stepped foot out onto the balcony’s pavement that she gasped for the cool air caressing her skin.

And in the moonlight, sitting on the iron bench near the railings, was Jennie’s greatest fear.

“Jennie,” said Jisoo over her shoulder, her silky hair cascaded down the back of her red dress that fit all her curves just right. An angel with the moon her halo.

“Jisoo,” said Jennie under her breath.

Jisoo was still watching Jennie when she rounded toward the bench, and when she sat down beside her, and when silence enveloped them. Just like that night Jennie first saw Jisoo after so long, the moonlight illuminated the girl’s sun-kissed complexion, and her eyes shined from the reflection of the stars. It was clear Jisoo didn’t wear make-up, nor styled her hair. Typical of her, even for a formal event such as a wedding, but she was beautiful regardless. Jennie would’ve laughed if there weren’t distinct scars scattered across her face, or her lip that was a little bigger than usual.

“The balcony?” Jennie scoffed. “Really?”

Jisoo regarded her for a moment longer before looking away into the night. “A classic place to get away.”

She was wearing flats. Upon closer inspection, her ankle was wrapped with bandages. Her hand on her lap was swollen — those fingers Jennie liked to play and squeeze and hold between hers scratched and bruised — and Jennie bit her lip to suppress cringing and retracted her own hand from touching it.

“Is your ankle fine? Can you walk?”

“Not really.” Jisoo lifted her foot up slightly to inspect it. “I limp, but bringing crutches would be too suspicious, don’t you think?”

It was a joke. Jisoo was joking. It’s obvious from the little of the eyebrow and the tiny tug of the corner of her lip. Out of all the times to joke, Jisoo was seriously joking now.

“Jisoo,” Jennie quavered, jaw set. “Why are you here?”

All traces of Jisoo’s amusement disappeared, replaced by a sigh and a long face. She looked down to her lap, scratching at the fabric of her dress, before tilting her chin upward to the night sky.

“Did you know I want to grow old with you?”

“Jisoo —”

She turned to Jennie with misted eyes. “I love you. I don’t think I’ve ever said it outloud. I keep saying I like you, but I love you. I really love you. I ing love you. I’ve never not loved you. I love you so much it hurts.” She took a shaky breath and gulped. “I want to grow old with you, I want to own a dog with you, I want to hold you every night. It doesn’t even have to be in public; I just want to be by your side. How foolish am I? I’m a fool. What kind of children’s fantasy is that?”

All Jennie could do was stare. Jisoo dabbed under her eyes with her finger before looking away to the glowing city.

“It’s foolish, but why do I keep holding on?” she sniveled, lips trembling. “I keep holding on because I don’t know anything else. I’ve tried and I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about you. I see you everywhere; you’re in my room, in the shadows, on every inch of my skin; your face, your voice. I turn a corner and you’re there. I miss you. I miss you, I miss you. Even if you’re right in front of me, I can’t help but miss you. I can’t live outside of you. Despite everything, it’s still you. Because of this love, I manage to live on. But — but I think it’s for the best that we don’t try anymore, don’t you think?”

Everything stopped: the cars on the streets, the live orchestra at ground level, the breeze, Jennie’s heart, her breaths, the whole world. Stopped, and started cracking.

“What?”

Jisoo strained a sad smile and had the audacity to let out a soft chuckle. “I know. I know I said we could do it if we tried, but it’s hurting you. We’re not getting anywhere and you keep getting hurt. You knew yourself that we couldn’t do it, but I was so stubborn to believe otherwise. What’s the point of holding on when everything tears us apart? When the universe works to keep us apart? Sometimes the best things for us are the things that won’t make us happy; that’s life. And loving you is a losing battle. This battle — I’m tired. I’m tired, Jennie. I’m tired of fighting; I’m tired of everything.”

Jennie touched Jisoo’s healthy hand — a touch that was both fire and solace — and the latter doesn’t pull away. All the words and emotions were stuck in Jennie’s throat, so she only gripped Jisoo’s hand tighter. Maybe if Jennie held Jisoo tight enough, she wouldn’t go. A small nod from Jisoo told Jennie she understood.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to say anything.” Jisoo’s eyes flitted up from their hands to regard Jennie. “I’m going away. I think it’ll help if one of us gets out of this damn city.”

Before Jennie could utter a word, Jisoo cupped Jennie’s hand with her other one, and the urge to break was ever greater.

“I’ve been living in the past and present for too long. I’ve never lived in the future because it always scared me. You’re right, Jennie. It’s time to live in it. We’re not teenagers anymore; there’s no such thing as happy endings. So, I’ll be leaving for everyone’s good. Chaeyoung doesn’t know, but she’ll find out.”

“Where?” Jennie croaked. “When?”

“Somewhere far away. Perhaps tomorrow? We can forget each other this way. It’ll —”

“You’re so selfish.”

Jisoo faltered, eyes wide when Jennie shot up from her seat. Jennie’s clenched fists shook, breaths sharp and painful, as anguish overwhelmed all other rational thoughts. Uncontrollable, these words damned to spill out.

“What about me?” Jennie sobbed, pounding on her chest. “I’m not done fighting for you. I’m not done. Give us more time. Give me more time. I promise… I promise —”

At one point, Jisoo had stood up to level with Jennie and cupped her cheeks, thumbing the tears away. Reality was distorting and falling apart, and although Jisoo was at arm’s reach, all Jennie could do was watch the love of her life slip further and further away.

“Jennie, how much longer can we do this? I’m only human. I reached my breaking point,” Jisoo whispered, something familiar in her gaze: desperation. “I don’t deserve you because I’m giving up like this. I’m not worth fighting for if I can’t continue fighting for you. Please don’t cry. Your make-up will run, and you’re the prettiest girl here. You’re so pretty. You’re the star of the show. Please don’t cry.”

I hate you. I love you. I hate you. I love you.

“I don’t even like this dress. It’s ugly,” Jennie sniffled. “You’re so full of . You’re full of it. How do you expect me to go back there after this?”

Jisoo cracked a tiny smile and planted an ember on Jennie’s forehead, lingering there for a few seconds before saying against her skin, “Go inside, it’s cold.” She parted and stepped back, the scent of vanilla in the hundred miles between them, and wobbled slightly. “Goodbye, Jennie. I’m just happy that I could say goodbye to you. I didn’t have the chance to before. Goodbye. Live a long and healthy life.”

“No,” Jennie uttered, grabbing her wrist. “I’m not saying goodbye. This isn’t goodbye. This is not our goodbye, Kim Jisoo.”

Jisoo let out a strangled laugh and patted Jennie’s head; two gentle pats. “I’ll be going before someone comes to find you.”

“Jisoo.”

She eased Jennie’s weak grip off and walked away.

“Kim Jisoo!”

She wasn’t turning around. She was just a few strides away, but Jennie couldn’t move. Her feet were rooted, the weight of this agony holding her captive and swallowing her whole. She wasn’t turning around… she wasn’t… Jennie had to get to her before it’s too late.

“Jisoo,” Jennie panted, clutching her heart as everything darkened, the outline of the girl becoming blurrier. She stumbled forward, holding the bench for support. “Jisoo! Jisoo… Jisoo, help me. I’m going to die…”

It must be karma. The pain from all those years ago… was this how Jisoo felt? To think she was doing her a favor… this excruciating pain, this helplessness — I’m so sorry, Jisoo. I was so selfish, I didn’t know how much I’ve hurt you back then. Now that I hear it, it hurts a lot more than I thought.

Someone had caught her before the floor could. It was Jongin, but how did he find her? Jennie didn’t know. All she knew was that Jisoo’s hands were much softer.