The snow had yet to cease.

According to the weather forecast, the storm should’ve lasted a maximum of five days – just before New Years – but it stretched into a week. It thwarted Chaeyoung’s plans to go home to her family to celebrate the new year and Jisoo’s plans to drink it away with Seulgi and Nayeon. Most of the roads and trains were closed due to the heavy snow, so here they were stuck in their apartment, watching the news on their small television and drinking soju on the couch.

Not the most ideal New Years, but they made it work. They always did. That’s what made them such good roommates.

“Who knew kimchi with soju would taste so good?” Chaeyoung slurred, flushed cheeks full as clumsy chopsticks picked kimchi out of the half empty tupperware on her lap – the one from Jennie. “It’s unbelievably good. I mean, I knew kimchi went well with a lot of things, but soju? I can eat it all day.”

“Lemme try one.” Jisoo tugged at her sleeve, widening with a drawn aw sound.

Chaeyoung’s nose scrunched at Jisoo’s antics and stuffed the piece of kimchi in , quickly followed by a sip of soju. Jisoo’s eyebrows furrowed as the taste gradually mixed itself on her tongue. Sour, salty, spicy, and sweet – a very strange combination. Very strange indeed, and definitely not to Jisoo’s liking.

“It tastes weird.”

“You just don’t know taste.” She jabbed the chopsticks in Jisoo's direction before eating another piece of kimchi. “I can’t believe I’m stuck with you for new years. You can’t even appreciate this fine dine.”

Jisoo gasped, dramatically falling back on the couch. “I knew you were getting sick of me. I’d figure liquid courage was all it took for you to admit it.”

She laughed, “It took you this long to realize?”

A glare challenged Chaeyoung’s playful eyes before the girl was pulled into a headlock, Jisoo ruffling her brown hair as she yelled indignantly, ranging from “my hair!” to “my kimchi!” that almost tipped from her lap onto the rug. Only then did Jisoo release her from the punishment, simply because she didn't want to ruin the rug, and not because the younger girl was stronger than her and almost escaped from her headlock.

“That was mean,” Chaeyoung pouted, raking her bangs back in place.

Jisoo stuck her tongue out. “That’s what you get for hurting my feelings.”

“Ah, whatever. Fine, we’re even.”

Giggling, their attention averted back to the television that displayed the same reporter they’d been watching for the past few hours. He was bundled up in a coat and a scarf and presumably in a very tall building from the way he was backed by windows overlooking the bright city of Seoul. Beside him was a clock, hands ticking down to New Years.

Only a few minutes to go.

Only a few minutes to go until a “new year” and that “new year” would pass like every other “new year” until the next “new year”. It was an endless cycle of new years – a play on the surreal concept of time – and the resolution made it all the faker. What was time without clocks? Numbers and hands? The only thing that told time was not clocks, but days, nights, and seasons – all those passing by the same, too. Everything passed the same. It was overbearingly taxing to live in this limbo, where this “new year” would be the same as the last “new year”, and the last “new year”, and the last “new year”.

That prompted a headache. Sighing, Jisoo set her bottle on the coffee table and closed her eyes, her head falling back on the couchrest. “Chaeyoung~ah.”

“Hm?”

“What if I move out to another city?”

“You’re leaving me?”

“No – well, I don’t know. I’m just asking.”

Chaeyoung stared at her, seemingly searching. Her seriousness rose goosebumps and Jisoo considered playing it off as a joke before the girl splitted a wide grin and pounced on her cheeks. “Aw, my baby is all grown!”

“Ah! Let go!” Jisoo yelped, wiggling out and slapping away her strong pinches.

“You’re so grown, Soo~yah,” Chaeyoung hummed as Jisoo rubbed her abused cheeks. “I would miss you, of course, but I’ll be proud of you.”

“Really?”

“Of course! Just make sure to keep in touch, since you’re bad at that. I might just have to be the one keeping in touch.” She threw her head back, laughing before clapping her hands and gasping with an epiphany. “Speaking of which, we need to celebrate your birthday. It’s so soon!”

“That’s alright. It’s not that important of a day.”

Chaeyoung gasped, “What do you mean? It’s literally the day you were born.” She pressed a finger on Jisoo’s parted lips, the words “no seriously, it’s just another day” at the tip of her tongue. It’d been like this every year, and although Jisoo didn’t expect much on her birthdays, it always warmed her heart whenever the girl did something (which was everytime). “Do not worry. I will plan something, like it or not.”

“Seriously –”

“Look! They’re counting down!”

Chaeyoung’s fingers slipped from Jisoo’s lips to jerk her chin to the television, so quickly it almost gave her whiplash. Now adorned in a party hat and equipped with a party horn, the reporter was counting down the last few seconds as the hand ticked closer to twelve. Chaeyoung grabbed Jisoo’s hand, all giddy and bounced on her seat as she chanted with the reporter.

“Three!”

“Two!”

“One!”

“Happy New Year!”

Chaeyoung sprang up – almost knocking over the kimchi if Jisoo hadn’t swiped it off her lap in time – and spilled a few drops of soju in the midst of her dance. “Happy New Year!” She extended her bottle toward Jisoo, shaking it to egg a clink. “Here’s to a new year, new us, new dreams, new goals, and new beginnings.”

Jisoo smiled, cynical thoughts diminished in front of Chaeyoung’s cute antics, and clinked. “Amen to that.”

While the latter dashed toward the kitchen – probably phoning everyone she knew a happy new year – the reporter, blowing the horn, had popped confetti on his small desk. All of it was so joyous that the festivity of New Years was getting to Jisoo, expedited by the liquid buzz in her head.

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to be more optimistic about opportunities like these – opportunities to start anew. Resolutions weren’t made for people to fool themselves. Resolutions were made as a motivation to change.

Change.

That was added to Jisoo’s minted list of resolutions.

~

The snow had yet to cease.

The past week’s buildup was apparent through the window, showcasing a street slathered in pure white. From the way the doors were half buried in snow, it was inches deep, much to Chaeyoung’s dismay. A hard day of shoveling snow away from the café entrance was bound, on top of buying more groceries. Thankfully, Jisoo had bought just enough the day Lisa came by, and with their kind neighbor’s snacks, it’s safe to say they’re going to survive being snowed in regardless of Chaeyoung’s eating habits.

And also to Chaeyoung’s dismay, the snow had thwarted her plans once again.

“The girls can’t come over,” she grumbled, elbows propped on the kitchen island as she hung up the fifth and last phone call. “The snow is too thick to walk through. but they said happy birthday.”

Jisoo, chewing on a pepero stick with last week’s newspaper splayed on the table, dismissed the unfortunance with a wave of her hand. “It’s alright. It can’t be helped.”

“But it’s your birthday.”

“I already said it’s not that big of a deal. It’s okay whether we celebrate it or not. It’s just another day.”

“But I want to make it special for you.” The latter plopped herself on the chair across from Jisoo. “Someone has to celebrate it if you aren’t.”

Jisoo pointed a stick toward Chaeyoung, the girl taking it between her teeth. “I said it’s alright. Just being like this is enough.”

She sighed, breaking the stick and resting her cheek on her palm. “This damn snow.”

“That’s not what you said about it the other day.”

“What do you mean?”

Jisoo’s hands clasped together to her heart, eyes fluttering to the ceiling and sang, “Oh Lisa, will we see the first – hey!”

The half bitten stick hit Jisoo square on her nose, the perpetrator’s face red as she scoffed.

“Never mind your birthday.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” quipped Jisoo, chomping on the stick thrown at her. At least it landed on the table.

“You’re hopeless.” Chaeyoung pouted, playing with the ends of her hair in deep thought. “I mean, it would be fun to have a party.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Her eyes lit up just as Jisoo ate the last of the pepero sticks. “Ah, I know how to make everything up! Do we have any seaweed?”

“Should be in the cupboard to the left,” Jisoo instructed, crumpling up the bag as Chaeyoung rummaged through the supplies. “What are you making?”

The younger girl sprang around with the bag of seaweed, beaming. “Seaweed soup! It’s a birthday classic.”

“Seaweed soup?”

“Yep! Usually mothers would make it for their children, so I’m your mother and you’re my child and we’re celebrating your birthday no matter what!”

Vertigo had Jisoo grimacing, along with a pang constricting her chest, but she strained a smile before Chaeyoung averted her attention to the stove and laid out ingredients. The dizziness went as soon as it came, but not the perturbation in her heart. The girl meant well, so it was quite frustrating that it’d been a decade and a mere mention of such things had the power to open the scars.

Add that to her list of resolutions: heal.

“Mmm, doesn’t that smell good?” Chaeyoung chimed, approaching with a bowl of steaming soup held with oven mitts.

Jisoo chuckled, clearing away the table as Chaeyoung set the bowl down in front of her. It smelled as good as it looked, which was insanely good, so much so that it’s hard to tell whether the stinging in Jisoo’s eyes were from the soup, a profound gratitude for the younger girl, or the bittersweetness of it all. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

“Of course I have to,” she puffed, lips curled as she took the seat across. “If I don’t, no one will.”

Someone would, Jisoo almost reassured, but flashed a smile instead. “Thank you.”

After Chaeyoung sang happy birthday with overly enthusiastic cheering (Jisoo clapping along to ease her own awkwardness), Jisoo ate the soup. It was tasty and warm to her stomach, the broth soothing the lump in .

“Thank you, Chaeng,” Jisoo said, fanning away the pricks in her eyes. “I really – I really appreciate it. This is really good.”

“Of course. I’m glad it’s good,” Chaeyoung said gently, smiling softly. “Happy birthday, Jisoo.”

Frankly, Jisoo didn’t feel a day older, much less a year older. The longer life went on, the more the years blended together, but days like these were a setback to that same routine. It wouldn’t hurt to appreciate special days, too. Life’s more interesting with them.

Nighttime fell after a productive day of binging movies and goodnights were exchanged as they left to their respective bedrooms. Jisoo’s room was rather simple: white walls, a twin bed adjacent to a closet and nightstand, a small shelf of a few books and trinkets, and a wooden desk at the corner, a desk lamp and small radio perched on opposite ends. Pulling on the lamp’s string, she sunk into the office chair with a sigh.

In truth, Jisoo didn’t like hoarding things. From teenage years until now, many things were thrown out – the small things, like toys and such. All they were good for was taking up space and Jisoo liked keeping things clean and simple.

So the leather journal was out of place, weariness sticking out like a sore thumb on her unblemished desk, along with the black ring box she took out her drawer that was nestled between papers and pencils. Under the soft glow of the desk lamp, the gold ring caught the light on its unscathed surface.

Turning the radio on, she twisted the knobs to a considerate volume – low enough so it wouldn’t disturb Chaeyoung – and surfed the channels. Some were news, some were static, and it was until the ballad music played that she stopped surfing.

Then, Jisoo sat back, closed her eyes, and walked backwards.

~

“Are you insane?” Jisoo hushed through grit teeth upon the sight of Jennie bundled up and at her doorstep at midnight. “Why are you here so late? How’d you get here? What if you get caught?”

“It’s alright,” Jennie said as Jisoo pulled her into the house and carefully closed the door to avoid creaks. “No one really checks if I’m in my room.”

“No, but –” Jisoo crossed her arms and pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s in the middle of the night. Do you know how dangerous it is? That you snuck out this late? Without anyone knowing? What if something happened to you?”

Jennie bit her lip and dipped her chin shamefully. “Well, Joohyun knows – she’s the only one I tell – but I understand.”

Jisoo huffed, anger hard to keep in front of Jennie’s pout and sad puppy eyes, so she took the girl’s hand. “Let’s go to my room.”

Her room was washed in a soft glow from one pull of the lamp’s string. Jennie stood by idly as Jisoo fixed the sheets that were embarrassingly messy, but then again, she was sleeping on them mere minutes ago before the latter decided to throw rocks at her window.

“So, what brings you here at this hour?” Jisoo asked – gently in contrast to her initial chastising – once they sat down on the edge of her bed, Jennie taking off her coat with a sweater underneath and hanging it in the back of the desk chair.

“Well, I –” Jennie cleared and rubbed her neck. “I was too excited to wait until day, and I wanted to be the first one to say it.”

“Say what?”

“What do you mean what? It’s your birthday, so happy birthday!”

Jisoo blinked once at Jennie’s gummy smile, twice when Jennie revealed a small black box from behind her back.

“My birthday?”

“Yeah and I got this for you,” said Jennie. “Don’t tell me you forgot your own birthday.”

“It might’ve flown over my head,” Jisoo said meekly, graciously taking the box. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Don’t worry, I wanted to. Open it!”

Jisoo chuckled at Jennie’s eagerness and flipped the lid open. Nestled in black velvet was a gorgeous gold ring, its shiny surface absorbing the glow of the room.

“Holy –” Jisoo shut the box closed in disbelief and snapped toward Jennie. “How much did this cost?”

“Don’t worry about that.” Jennie waved her hands. “Happy birthday!”

It was hard to tell whether Jisoo wanted to knock her head for such a feat or kiss her. The other was more to her favor, so Jisoo pecked Jennie on the lips and the mole just underneath her brow. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? Wandering out at night just to do this?”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it. I love it very much. Thank you.”

“Aren’t you going to wear it? You haven’t even taken it out the box.”

“I’m scared that I might ruin it, or worse, lose it. Small things like these are easy to lose in my hands.”

“But the purpose of rings is to wear them.” Jennie took the box and plucked the ring out. “Give me your hand.”

“It’s so beautiful, I really don’t want to ruin it,” insisted Jisoo as Jennie gingerly slipped it on her ring finger. Much to her surprise, it was the perfect fit. “Woah, it fits so well. How’d you get my size correct?”

Jennie blushed. “To be fair, we’ve held hands a lot, so it was easy to guess.”

Jisoo cracked a grin and kissed Jennie again. Between the overwhelmingly kind gesture and, well, simply Jennie, it was irresistible to not kiss the girl, so she added a hug for good measure. “That’s so sweet. No one had done this for me before.”

“It’s nothing.” Jennie puffed nonchalantly despite the smile tugged on her lips.

Jisoo admired the ring from the back of her hand before waltzing to her desk for the small radio. Turning it on, she twisted the knobs through the channels – some news, some static – until she stumbled onto the ballad music. Lowering the volume so it wouldn’t seep through the thin walls, Jisoo held her hand out toward Jennie and wiggled her fingers. “Dance with me,” she dared.

Jennie laughed, looking at Jisoo as if she was crazy. “I can’t dance.”

“Me neither.” Jisoo coaxed Jennie off the bed with entwined fingers and led her to the middle of the room, which wasn’t that spacious. “First time for everything, right?”

“I really can’t dance.” Jennie shook her head. “Like, I’m going to embarrass myself.”

“Please dance with me.” Jisoo pouted, batting her lashes and wrapping her arms around Jennie’s waist. “It’s my birthday.”

Jennie sighed defeatedly, rolling her eyes. “Where do I even put my hands?”

“Just hold me.”

After a moment of uncertainty, Jennie’s arms settled themselves on Jisoo’s shoulders, wrapped around the nape of her neck that brought the two closer. They fitted together like puzzle pieces, so it was stupid how easy it was to hold Jennie close and tight, her rich lavender fragrance a high that Jisoo could take in forever. The ballad music had done its part in setting the mood because it was long forgotten as they immersed themselves instead in the melody of each other’s breathing, heartbeats, scent, and warmth – their dance more of a languid shuffle from the way they swayed into the other. Essentially a hug with a few uncoordinated steps.

“Sorry,” Jennie murmured, the hum tickling Jisoo’s ear. “I stepped on your foot.”

“It’s okay,” Jisoo smiled against her neck. “I didn’t even notice.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Me neither. You’re really warm.”

“You too – warm, I mean.”

“I like you a lot, Jennie.”

“You’ve already said that.”

“I know, but I can say it a thousand – a million times. I can say it forever. I like you so much my kidneys beat.”

“Your… kidneys?” Jennie giggled, the tune lovely to the sound. “You’re so –”

“Ridiculous?”

“– amazing.”

“That’s a first,” quipped Jisoo, bringing Jennie the ever so closer – although there wasn’t an inch between them left to close – and nuzzled her head into the crook of Jennie’s neck. “Thank you.”

“Happy birthday, Jisoo.”

~

The snow had yet to cease.

The streets had thinned enough to walk through, but not enough for vehicles to drive. Thus, with the snow crunching underneath her new boots (because her sneakers didn’t suffice against this terrain), Jisoo trudged to Jennie’s house for the biography appointment. Rescheduling wasn’t an option since they had only a handful of days to work together, so Jisoo made do with what she had.

Upon arriving at the doorstep of the mansion, Jisoo shook and brushed off the several snowflakes on her coat and hair until she was mildly presentable and knocked the door knocker. Within three knocks, the door gave way to Jennie, and to Jisoo’s surprise, equally as bundled up as her.

“Hello,” Jisoo said. “Are you going somewhere? Did I come at the wrong time?”

“Aren’t we going somewhere for the appointment?”

“Well, I thought that it would be better if we just did it here.” Jisoo chuckled sheepishly. “Not many places are accessible because of the snow.”

Jennie blinked, then nodded. Disappointment was etched in her frown. She probably looked forward to stepping out the house and it was figurable that she’d been stuck in here because of the weather. “Oh, okay. Come in.”

The mansion either didn’t have a heater or the atmosphere was permanently cold – physically and metaphorically – and reduced the heater ineffective. Jennie offered Jisoo a pair of house slippers and led her to the living room, where a fireplace burned heartily. Even when Jisoo took the armchair closest to the hearth – Jennie taking one from across the coffee table – it was freezing.

“Joohyun,” Jennie called, prompting a woman to poke her head from around the corner, “can you get us some tea?”

“Yes, Miss Jennie,” Joohyun replied before disappearing.

Jennie unwrapped her scarf, took off her hat, and shrugged off her coat, placing them on the cushion’s arm. “Was it hard to get here?”

“It was quite the workout,” Jisoo admitted, lifting off her satchel’s strap, taking off her gloves, and fishing out her journal and pen. “But it wasn’t a big deal. It worked out my legs enough to warm them against the cold.”

“Ah, I see – thank you, Joohyun,” Jennie said upon the arrival of the maid with a porcelain tea set. Setting it down on the table, she bowed and left. “I didn’t want to trouble you.”

“No trouble here.”

“Treat yourself to some tea. Joohyun makes good tea.”

“Thank you.” Jisoo cupped the teacup, the heat not too scalding nor too cool.

The tea’s aroma was soothing and the taste rich to the tongue. It was hard to refrain from drinking it all up, the latter barely taking a few sips of her own, so Jisoo set it down and averted to her journal.

“Alright, first question…”

The questions today weren’t of any particular order or category. Miscellaneous were what they were, a jumble of whatever Jisoo thought made a person interesting.

“What would people find surprising about you as a teen?”

“I would say I snuck out a lot, but for reputation sake, I’d say that I learned the flute.”

Questions like that.

Joohyun had brought them a plate of biscuits. They were delicious when paired with the tea. Jisoo couldn’t help but drink three cups of it, the warmth mildly easing her shaky hands and her dry throat.

“What are the main lessons you’ve learned in life?”

“Given that I haven’t lived that long yet, I guess a take away would be to live it to the fullest.”

The tea was gone. On the plate only remained crumbs. It was considerably warmer from sitting so long near the fire, prompting Jisoo’s scarf off. Jennie had yet to finish her first cup of tea, her sips excruciatingly slow. It must be stone cold by now. Maybe Jisoo shouldn’t have drank all the tea, so the girl could pour herself a new one.

“What is your greatest fear?”

A pause.

“Forgetting.”

“Forgetting what?”

“Forgetting happy things. Things that make life worth living. That’s why – that’s why I like to take pictures. To preserve those things, so I’ll never forget.”

Jisoo’s pen tapped the list anxiously, a page of scribbles and crossed out questions. It was either two things: a sense of denial that there was no more to ask, or the desire to stay with Jennie a little longer. It was most likely both, the other a lot stronger. Before Jisoo could think of a question at the top of her head to keep the conversation flowing, Joohyun popped in with impeccable timing.

“Miss Jennie, sorry to interrupt,” Joohyun said apologetically. “There’s a phone call and they need you to do things right now.”

“Oh.” Jennie’s lips pursed into a thin line. “Do you have any more questions, Jisoo?”

Yes.

“No.”

“Then, is it fine if we cut this appointment a little short?”

No.

“Yes. That’s perfectly fine. We’ll pick up from where we left off next time.”

After Jisoo thanked Joohyun for the hospitality, Jennie escorted her to the door. Jisoo adjusted her clothes, scarf, and satchel with more care than usual in an attempt to prolong her stay with the girl. Frankly, it was quite pathetic to do so and Jisoo would’ve scolded herself if it weren’t for Jennie doing the same thing, her tiny hand fiddling with the doorknob yet to open.

Here they were, prolonging the inevitable and that never worked; the inevitable was meant to happen and they had no power to change such a fact.

“It was your birthday last week,” said Jennie as Jisoo stepped out the door. Not a question, but a mere statement.

“Oh, yeah,” Jisoo chuckled. “It was.”

“Happy late birthday,” Jennie smiled softly. “Keep living a healthy life.”

They stood there for a moment, Jennie inside and Jisoo outside, reflecting each other with a mirror that was the door jamb. It was already freezing with one step out the mansion and it was a wonder that Jennie could bear it right now.

Or maybe she wasn’t. It was times like these that reading Jennie was hard, when her face was all expressionless, but the demeanor said it all: tight shoulders, shifty feet, clenched fists. And most of all were her eyes, rawly portraying pleas, longing, all those feelings so mutual that perhaps the mirror wasn’t the door jamb, but Jennie’s eyes all along.

She wasn’t bearing it well at all.

They weren’t bearing it well at all.

It was incredible how they were still standing on their own two feet in the front of their collapse, these past months a poorly built sandcastle fated to crumble away to the waves that was time. If clocks told time, Jisoo would stop it, turn it back, but no clock could count down and prepare them for this. They were in an ending season and no amount of extra questions could save it because it had run out.

But Jennie didn’t know that yet, so Jisoo just smiled.

“Thank you,” Jisoo croaked. “Have a nice day, Jennie.”

After a brief moment of lingering, Jennie subsequently bowed her head and closed the door. It was only until the click of the lock that Jisoo turned her back on the door to the white front of the mansion.

The journal was still in Jisoo’s hands, the pen jutting out from the page she finished at. She thumbed through the pages, clumsily due to her thick gloves, to reach the pen – the pen that sat nestled in the dip between the last sheet and the leather back.

The air had turned colder as Jisoo flicked through the pages – from the last to the first – and it was only until the first page came the realization of the absence of snowflakes.

There were no more snowflakes.

There were no more questions.

There were no more pages.

The snow had ceased.

And Jisoo ended at page zero.