If someone had asked Jisoo if she was sure, she wouldn’t have had an answer. That’d make her unsure, right? And with the first copy of Jennie’s biography in her hands and the doubt from her friends, the irresolution exponentiated until it seemed to be no longer the correct answer; until there were no more answers to concoct as it became more and more of an excuse to run away.

“Do you really have to go?” asked Seulgi, perched on the desk with her scarf over in an anxious demeanor, watching Jisoo stare at the freshly printed papers in her hands.

Nayeon stood by idly, most likely with the same question. They were both looking at Jisoo, as if hoping she’d say otherwise. Sooyoung had the same question, too, when Jisoo phoned her to ask to borrow her crutches for a long while.

“Yes,” Jisoo said, the answer bitter on her tongue. With one last glance at the front page, she tucked it into a plastic binder and snapped it shut. Her mood must’ve shown through because her friends shifted uncomfortably, so she cracked a small smile. “Don’t worry guys. I’ll keep in touch. I just need something new, you know?”

That could quite possibly be the last time in Seulgi’s office. Would she miss it and the pile of crumpled balls of paper beside the trash can that Seulgi always missed? Yes. Nayeon seemed close to crying from the way she pouted, so Jisoo gave each of them a hug. It was too early in the morning for tears.

Taking a taxi, Jisoo calmed her nerves with deep breaths. In, out; in, out. The plan was to arrive at the Kims’ mansion, turn in the biography, collect the payment, and be gone. That was very well established by Mister Kim before he left her in the dirt. At least he still considered paying Jisoo after all that. A man of his word, a true businessman — how amusing.

But standing in front of the mansion’s iron gates made all those breathing exercises in vain. The oak doors, the smell of that tea, the warmth of that fireplace, the window of that bedroom. Was Jennie in there right now? How was she — no. Now was not the time to think about the other girl. Jisoo gripped the handle of her crutch tighter and shouldered her bag before ringing the bell.

“Who is it?” a maid asked, waddling out to greet Jisoo at the gates. Dark hair, pale skin, big eyes; she looked like Joohyun, but she wasn’t Joohyun. Joohyun was at Seulgi’s place. Was Jennie lonely because Joohyun was no longer here? To be in such a house with no one trustworthy, must be difficult.

“Kim Jisoo,” Jisoo replied. “I’m here for business with Mister Kim regarding Jennie Kim’s biography.”

“Ah, come in, Mrs. Kim.”

“In” meant not the mansion, but through the gates and waiting on the steps. It was for the better because the last thing Jisoo wanted was to step into that cold, god-forsaken place, and to be in the presence of Jen — there she went again. Stop thinking about her, stop thinking —

“Mrs. Kim,” Mister Kim spoke upon opening the door in his usual suit attire.

He regarded her as if he hadn’t beat her like an absolute sadist a few weeks ago. Meeting that artificial face not only struck anxiety but abhorrence. Spit on him, step on his foot, knee his crotch — there were a million things Jisoo itched to do, but she swallowed her pride and fished out the binder from her bag.

“I’m done with your daughter’s biography,” Jisoo said through grit teeth. “This is the final version.”

He fixed an empty smile; faux sweetness, true vileness. “Our family appreciates it, Mrs. Kim. It’s nice doing business with you.”

The thick paper envelope felt dirty in Jisoo’s hand. Stepping out through the gates, the bedroom window remained still and dark. There wasn’t much to expect in the first place, but the disappointment still lingered. She pocketed the envelope inside her coat. Touching it was unbearable.

When Jisoo arrived home, Chaeyoung greeted her by holding up her luggage packed last night.

“Jisoo, what is this?” she asked, hand on her hip.

“I was just about to tell you,” Jisoo said, leading her to the couch.

Chaeyoung’s concerned and confused expression switched to one of woe. She cried, but it was too early in the day to cry.

“This is for the better, I promise,” Jisoo reassured. “You run a business, and me being here will tarnish your reputation.”

“ my reputation,” Chaeyoung sniffled, sobbing into the collar of her shirt. “I can endure it.”

Jisoo strained a small smile and patted the girl’s knee to ease her to look up. “Remember on New Year’s when I asked you about going away?”

“Not really.”

“Of course you don’t,” Jisoo chuckled. “You said you’ll be proud of me.”

“But not like this. I didn’t think it would be so soon.”

Jisoo lowered her head. “I’m sorry.”

Chaeyoung sniffled a few more times and wiped her nose with tissue from the coffee table before saying, “Where are you going?”

“Seoul. I’m going to JYP.”

“JYP? That one entertainment company? Would they still hire you?”

“Probably not, but I’ll try my luck.”

“Luck? You can’t go by luck now. What will you do if they don’t? A place to stay, to sleep — you’re injured. What if you get robbed —”

“Don’t worry, Chaeng,” Jisoo laughed. “Have faith in me. I have it under control. I’m not that easy to knock down.”

That was a lie; a lie to make Chaeyoung stop crying. But Jisoo would tell a hundred white lies if it meant Chaeyoung wouldn’t cry. Did Jisoo really have it under control when she couldn’t even decide what to do with the ring and journal on her desk? Both so ancient; both so valuable; it’d be a crime to throw them away. So, she should take them with her — no, it wasn’t worth taking if they’d just collect dust, or make her light luggage heavier than it should be, or serve as a reminder of what couldn’t be. But the trash can was no place for them. Maybe Chaeyoung can hold on to them for a while until Jisoo was ready to collect them back.

And there was the question again. From Chaeyoung, it had the power to sway, but the envelope remained leaden in Jisoo’s pocket.

“Do you really have to go?”

“Yes. Thank you for all these years, Chaeyoung. I’ll make sure to come visit you.”

“Do you need me to come with you to the train station?”

“It’s okay. I can handle it.”

“Here, take this umbrella just in case. It might rain and I don’t want you getting sick.”

A hug, a goodbye, a kiss on the cheek, and some snacks for the road. All these goodbyes — from Seulgi to Taeyeon — were just goodbyes because Jisoo knew she’d come back sometime, Chaeyoung’s goodbye weighing the heaviest in her heart. With each goodbye came the same question, for which Jisoo answered with an uncertain yes. But the why part, was that really worth these goodbyes? The sadness in her friends’ eyes? Perhaps it was selfish of Jisoo, but for this one time, she’d be selfish. There was nothing wrong with being selfish for once.

By the time Jisoo reached the train station, the birds were chirping, the leaves were green, and the breeze was soft on her skin. Spring had come, a season of new beginnings, and was still too early to cry.

~

The morning crept onto the cold floorboards, a silent and subtle realization that dawn had broken after spending the whole night counting stars.

Sat on the floor against the bed’s side rails, Jennie’s school bag was propped beside her and the scrapbook laid at her feet. She was dressed in a corduroy jacket and jeans — had been dressed ever since taking off that wedding dress — and her backpack was packed with the minimum essentials. Except for the scrapbook. It was too bulky and too heavy to run with. But leaving it here was out of the question, so what else could she do but bring it? With that resolution, Jennie sacrificed a shirt to fit the book in, the edges barely squeezed under the zipper.

Thankfully, Jongin dissuaded their parents to follow through with the usual honeymoon night plans and return to their respective houses instead. The last thing she wanted was to stay at a strange place after that ordeal on the balcony. The ceremony was postponed for a while until Jennie recovered, much to the guests’ dismay, but she really couldn’t give a about their dismay. Walking down the aisle and saying the vows despite the sickness was the most she owed them.

The honeymoon meant to occur later today, but there was no way the plan would go through because Jennie had no plans of staying. She had to reach Jisoo before she left. But was it okay to reach Jisoo after everything she said?

“You’re so selfish.”

Cringing, Jennie smacked her forehead and buried her face into her hands. Why did she say that? For all those times she could control her emotions, they decided to spiral out of control in such a pivotal moment, and in front of Jisoo out of all people. She had to apologize at least. Right, Jennie had to apologize; they had to leave on a good note. That’s why, and not because the possibility of never seeing Jisoo again was the scariest thing in the world. One last time… one last time…

Seven quick raps on the door. Jennie slung her backpack on and took a deep breath.

Then, a thunder of squawks wreaked downstairs.

Wait, squawks?

The door opened and Taehyung stuck his head through with a wide grin. “Quick!” he exclaimed. “I distracted them. Everyone is running around crazy.”

“Birds?” Jennie said in disbelief, approaching the door. “How in the hell did you manage to get birds?”

Taehyung winked, opening the door wide. The squawks and yells rang louder in the hallway. “I got them from my friend. Don’t worry about it. Hurry, I don’t think anyone’s near.”

“You just might be the crazy one. Birds out of all things.”

Jennie’s shoe barely missed a spot of bird poop on the way to the front door and to the iron gates. Before pulling them open, she glanced back at Taehyung.

“What about you?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I’m enlisting in the military in less than a month. After I finish my service, I sure as hell won’t come back here. I have a few friends I can crash with. Let’s just forget we’re related and our family and live our lives separate and however we want it —”

Taehyung’s words were cut short by a hug from Jennie. Their first hug in twenty-five years, most likely their last. The intimacy was strange, but with the strangeness came a sense of gratification.

“Thanks, Taehyung,” Jennie said when she stepped back.

“Uh,” he scratched his head and cleared his throat, “no problem. Good luck out there.”

The iron gates opened, and the world had never looked greener in the bleak of a gray sky.

Jennie’s feet ran on their own, but where was she going? It was the invisible string again, but with each passing second, the tug was getting weaker and weaker. Time was running out — she had to hurry. Corners, honks of cars as she ran through the streets, the whistling wind — Rosé Café was in full view. Racing up the steps that Jisoo and Jennie had stumbled up all those nights ago, she threw herself against the door.

“Hello?” Jennie shouted, out of breath and pounding on the wood. “Is anyone home? Chaeyoung?”

When her fist raised the eleventh time within seconds, it almost hit the greeter on the other side. Toothbrush in , wide eyes, and rollers in her hair, a moment of silence passed between Jennie and Chaeyoung before Jennie’s wits recovered.

“Chaeyoung,” Jennie panted, supporting herself against the doorjamb with her elbow. “Chaeyoung, where’s Jisoo?”

The girl merely blinked.

“Chaeyoung, please.” Jennie sank to her knees, grabbing onto the hem of her oversized tee. “Please tell me. There’s not much time left.”

Chaeyoung didn’t say anything. The string was hanging by a thread.

“Chae —”

“Do you have no shame?”

Jennie stilled, lifting her head up from the ground to meet Chaeyoung’s cold gaze. Fury, resentment, hurt — she might as well have murdered Jennie on the spot yesterday night because the want to do so was evident and it was a wonder how she was restraining herself.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Chaeyoung seethed, toothbrush shaking in her fist. “How dare you show up here? How dare you have the audacity —”

“Because I’m an !” Jennie exclaimed. Chaeyoung’s mouth snapped shut. “I’m an . A selfish, entitled that never watches and always s everything up. Hit me; curse at me all you want, but not now. I’ll take a million lashes, but not now. Now…” she choked and shook her head, “I need to see Jisoo. I need to make things right. Please…” her grip on Chaeyoung’s shirt slipped as her head sank to the floor, “... tell me where she went.”

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Maybe Chaeyoung had disappeared during this pregnant pause, but through the birdnest of Jennie’s hair, her feet were still there. Jennie dared to look up to the gaze that expressed the same, now laced with exhaustion and pity.

“To the train station on —— street. She’s going to Seoul.” Chaeyoung dipped down to drag Jennie up onto her feet by her arm. “Don’t come back here. Make sure I don’t see you ever again. If I do,” she crooked a small smile and brushed off Jennie’s shoulder, “I might just kill you myself.”

The train station was familiar, the one Jisoo had brought Jennie to to go to that light festival. The route came in fragmented flashes, but the string, although faint, still tugged the right way. At one point, the sky began to weep and only reached Jennie’s realization when she raced through a big puddle that drenched her shoes. Her backpack banged against her lower back, and the reminder of inevitable water damage struck fear for the scrapbook. But there was no time to check up on it; hopefully, it would survive. It was good quality, it must.

The rumbling of a large engine shook the earth, the piercing train whistle cutting through the rain’s roar. Jennie crashed into a column, wet hands slipping on the concrete to get a grip to keep herself upright. On a platform of a few people, the back of raven hair was unmistakable: a suitcase in one hand, a crutch under the other arm, and one foot onto the train.

“Jisoo!”

Either the girl had paused, or Jennie was fast enough to grab onto her coat sleeve before the other foot stepped in. Breathless, Jennie doubled over and rested her other hand on her knee, the soaked denim uncomfortably stuck to her skin. She was lightheaded, but holding onto Jisoo was all she needed to be kept grounded.

“Jisoo,” Jennie gasped. “Jisoo, wait.”

She wasn’t looking at Jennie. This should make it easier — not looking at Jisoo in the eye — but why was it still so hard to speak? Something was pushing in the back of , but nothing was coming out. Her grip tightened, wrinkling the ironed wool. Remember, you’re here to apologize, her thoughts said. Focus. Focus —

But her heart was saying something else.

“Please don’t go,” the sob slipped, a hush between Jennie’s lips.

Jisoo turned her head to the side, not enough to make eye contact, but enough to show the surprise and eye Jennie’s gripe. Regaining her composure, Jennie swallowed thickly.

“I’m sorry,” Jennie sputtered. “Please don’t go. I’m here now. Look, I left the house.” She gestured to her clothes and backpack. “I haven’t given up. Please let me make everything up to you. I can’t — I can’t live without you. I want to —” a sharp intake of breath, “I want to live in that damn cottage in the damn woods. I won’t be scared anymore —”

“Jennie, are you hearing yourself?”

“What?”

In Jisoo’s gaze, there wasn't fury and resentment like Chaeyoung, but there was clear hurt and grief and disbelief. With a small shake of her head, Jisoo shied her arm away and out of Jennie’s touch. “You called me selfish. I’m the one being selfish? How could you come here knowing I can never refuse you? Knowing I already made my choice? Were you hoping it’d change because you finally made the effort to meet me halfway? Jennie, I don’t want to yell at you; I don’t hate you. I didn’t want to fight last night, but how could you say such things when everything I’ve done has been for you?”

A thousand knives to the heart, Jennie’s hand fell to her side. Jisoo was shaking, chest rising in an attempt to steady her increasingly erratic breathing.

“So,” Jisoo gulped, “let me be selfish for once. Don’t bother apologizing; I don’t need to hear it a hundred times to know you mean it. I need to go; the train will leave soon.” She dipped with the bend of her knee to pick up the handle of her luggage and tore her eyes away. “If you want to go find Joohyun, she’s staying at Seulgi’s place.”

“After everything,” Jennie quavered, “in the end, are we becoming strangers again?”

Jisoo hesitated, knuckles holding her luggage white and trembling lips pursed. “Change into dry clothes; you’ll get sick.” She released a breath. “Live a good life. I’ll be going.”

Without another glance, vanilla wisped away and so did the remnants of the little hope. Back then, Jennie wouldn’t have chosen to step out from under the awning if her life depended on it, but now, it was so easy to leave the station’s roof and let the darkened sky pour on her. She didn’t make it far though, legs giving away at the edge of the street’s curb where the water rushed through the gutter like the river they oversaw so often. If it weren’t for the thick screen of teeming raindrops, perhaps Jennie could’ve seen her reflection in the water and see the mess she had become. Knees to her chest and face buried into them, the spring rain had never been more ironic. New beginnings? Jennie was stuck at the same spot.

Barely, barely, barely, but not enough.

She was too late. No, it wasn’t that she was too late; it’s always been her. There was nothing to blame but herself. Everything about Jennie was why she lost Jisoo. up after up, was this inevitable? Was this the fate Jisoo had talked about? It must be the karma, the way the fresh droplets were harsh on her skin, eating away at her like the taunting rasps of the ghost of the past.

You deserve it. She was afraid of being alone, and you gave her exactly that and ran away. You don’t deserve a happy ending after everyone you’ve hurt.

“You’re right. Should I just —” she bit back a bitter chuckle. “Should I just disappear? Father won’t look for me anymore. He wouldn’t even notice. Everyone would be better off with me gone. All I do is cry and be mean and be scared. I’m,” she sniffled, “so mean for a scaredy-cat.”

Not everyone.

Oh, that’s right. Where did Jisoo say Joohyun was? At Seulgi’s place? It’d been so long since Jennie had seen her. Joohyun deserved so much more, but all Jennie could offer was goodbye and gratitude; there wasn’t even a penny on her to give. She’d go see Joohyun at least. That was the least she could do for everything the latter had done for her.

After pushing herself up, Jennie stumbled right back onto the ground. The sidewalk was bound to flood; the rainwater was already a few centimeters on the concrete. Jennie tried again, heaving herself on her knees first, but standing up became more of a crawl with each attempt lurching her forward only a few inches before a faceful of puddles and pavement.

Get up. You’re so weak. This is what you made Jisoo go through. Could you at least get through it like Jisoo? You can’t even do the minimum. If Jisoo can endure it, you can, too. It’s the least you can do to repent for your wrongdoing.

“I’m not Jisoo,” Jennie whispered, curled up, balled fists, and forehead on the ground. The rain was so heavy, the density a thousand pounds on her back and dragging her down into hell. “I’m not Jisoo, and Jisoo is not me. We’re not each other. I can’t do it. I can’t...”

Of course, you can’t. Pathetic. Just die then. Born a coward, end a coward.

Coward.

Coward.

Coward.

Coward.

When you’re gone, Jisoo will finally be happy.

“Yes.” Jennie’s nails scraped the concrete. The corner of her lip tugged. “My last wish is for happiness. Jisoo is my happiness; I’ll make sure she lives a good life. I’ll…”

But it was so cold that moving was near impossible. Freezing and numb, the abyssal pool only grew larger, an endless whirlpool her in and swallowing her whole. Everything — her breaths, her heart — was unmatched to the deafening roar. The numbness must’ve gotten worse because the raindrops no longer stung. Through the roar was the distinct feeling of someone standing in front of her. Maybe it was Death; it was about time.

Now all you have to do is let go —

“Get up, Jennie.”

Clear and pronounced, melodious like the first day Jennie heard it. Through a slickened curtain of hair were worn sneakers and a crutch, then pants and a beige coat, then to heart-shaped lips and doe eyes and a black umbrella doming over them.

“Jennie, get up,” Jisoo cracked. “You get sick easily.” Quivering, her voice and lips alike. “You get sick easily, so what are you doing in the rain?” Volume rose with every word. “Why are you torturing yourself like this? Why can’t you take care of yourself? Why are you making it so hard for yourself? Get up.”

Jisoo blinked and a drop fell right in front of Jennie, dissipating and melting in with the rainwater as if it never existed at all. It couldn’t be the rain. It couldn’t be.

“Get ing up!” Jisoo shouted with her whole chest as Jennie unsteadily rose to her feet. “You’re so complicated. You want to live a happy life, but here you are getting sick.” Racked chokes, sobs, and wheezes. “You tell me to walk away, but we come running back to each other. You tell me to live a healthy life, but I’m dying without you. You tell me you’ll never leave me, but —” she choked up, the drops rapidly collecting at the corners of her pale lips.

It couldn’t be the rain because Jisoo was dry.

Jisoo was crying.

She hiccuped and took a deep breath. “You left me. One way or the other, you leave me. It’s not your fault; I can never blame you. But I can’t take it anymore. This — this push and pull, this uncertainty, balancing on a tightrope, walking on thin ice. I have you, then I lose you. At any moment, I can lose you again. Nothing has changed, has it? Those months ago, you asked ‘what now?’ You tell me. Tell me because I don’t think I can walk away from you again. If I do it anymore, I think I might actually die. You want to keep fighting? So, tell me now; don’t let me walk away again. Please. I can’t hold on any longer.”

Those tears again. Jisoo never cried, but why did Jennie always make Jisoo cry? Jennie’s hand shook as it reached for Jisoo’s face to wipe them away, but it faltered once it grazed her skin, electric to the touch. Say something. But words were as hard as they were in the train station. Jennie said so much last night, why couldn’t she say anything now?

Jisoo shook her head and drew away from Jennie’s touch. “I don’t know what I expected. You’re the same. After all these years, you’re still the same. It’s so funny.”

No, it was because there was too much to say. Jisoo was giving her another chance. Before Jisoo could turn her back and walk away, Jennie collapsed. It must’ve taken Jisoo by surprise when Jennie’s arms wrapped around her waist, holding onto her for dear life, because the umbrella fell from her hand and the weeping world crashed down.

There they were, seventeen and eighteen years old in the spring rain — a film on loop, a broken record. But this time, it was different; it’d be different.

“I’m sorry,” Jennie wailed hysterically, grasping for Jisoo’s coat. “I’m sorry. Forgive me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry —”

“Stop saying sorry!” Jisoo screamed, the echo engulfed in the rain whose thickness isolated them from the rest of the world. She grabbed Jennie’s arm and shook her, every shake growing feebler as she crumpled onto her knees, the crutch clattering on the pavement. Jisoo’s once fine coat was drenched, her bangs plastered on her forehead and the ends coiling on her flushed cheeks. The rivers were now a mix of tears and rain and pure anguish. “I’ve forgiven you already. I’ve forgiven you a hundred times, a million times.” She gripped Jennie’s collar. “Stop saying sorry; how many times do I have to tell you to get it through that thick skull of yours? How can someone be so smart, yet so ing dense? You’re so dense that I don’t understand how you were such a good student. the world; society; all these people. Do something… even if we’re just two measly girls… ing do something.” Her grip slipped, sliding down to clutch her own chest. “Stop it, stop it; it hurts — Jennie, make it stop…”

Scream after scream — gasps and sputters in between — pierced through the storm. Jennie scrambled to hold Jisoo, to catch the broken pieces and desperately keep her intact, but every scream into Jennie’s chest tore a new one. Jennie was so weak against the cries — who was she to even try when she was so weak? — but she held onto Jisoo and her trembling body because nothing else mattered. Not the feeling of drowning, not the suffocation. Eyes closed, the ghost of Jennie’s sorrys were a mere wisp as they languidly rocked back and forth. Oddly comforting, the way Jennie and Jisoo always seemed to crash and burn, and every time they did, it was only them among the smoke and ruins. Against the world, Jennie would never let go of Jisoo; not this time, not ever.

“You,” Jennie muttered. “You, you, you. It’ll always be you.”

Drifting apart, coming together; falling in sync, falling out of sync; passing by, meeting anew. An endless season, Jisoo was again and again and again.