habitudes de sommeil. (sleeping habits.)

I. (age 8)

“Yuna, wake up! Choi Yuna!”

Someone is shaking her shoulder, voice trembling, frantic, and when Yuna opens her eyes she can barely make out the outline of a small figure kneeling next to her on the bed. It takes a few seconds to process why the voice is so familiar and why she’s even being shaken awake in the first place, but then it all clicks into place.

“Eunha? What’re you—?”

The other stops shaking her shoulder, but doesn’t pull away, clinging onto Yuna’s arm tightly. Eunha’s hold on her is just as weak as before, but her voice sounds the slightest bit more relaxed, and she looks relieved when she murmurs a quiet, “Yuna.”

Yuna doesn’t have to be an expert to know that something is wrong if her best friend is shaking her awake in the middle of the night.

Almost unconsciously, she looks over to the window, checking if there’s a storm—Eunha always gets like this when it thunderstorms, especially when the storms are bad ones.

But it’s not raining. The night is quiet, calm, which means—

“You had a nightmare?” She sits up, finally able to get a better look at Eunha now, the moonlight illuminating her small face enough so Yuna can clearly see the look of fear in Eunha’s eyes and what may be the remnants of tears on her cheeks.

Eunha shakes her head quickly. “No...I was just feeling cold, and was wondering if—”

(The exchange is familiar, something they’ve had before. Jeong Eunha wakes Choi Yuna up for whatever reason—a storm, a nightmare, a strange noise—but always tries to pass it off as something else in order to be allowed to curl up close to Yuna until she falls back asleep, forgetting whatever it was that had scared her in the first place.)

As easily as she could call Eunha out on the lie of “being cold,” she doesn’t. Instead, she simply rests her hand over Eunha’s, squeezing it gently. “You wanna sleep here?”

“Yes!” Eunha scrambles under the covers with her, clinging onto Yuna tightly.

For a few moments, it’s quiet, as they both try to fall back asleep. But then she hears a soft whisper. “Yuna, thanks.”

It’s punctuated with Eunha squeezing Yuna's arm a little tighter and Yuna opens her eyes again, meeting Eunha’s. “Nothing. Go back to sleep, okay?” She yawns before smiling and poking Eunha’s shoulder gently. “Don’t push me off the bed this time or I’ll never let you sleep over again.”

“You’d miss me too much if you did that.”

“Yeah, right. Because I like you taking up the whole bed.”

They share a quiet laugh.

Despite the words, Yuna rubs a hand over Eunha’s arm, fingers trailing over the soft skin. “Hey, you know you can tell me if something’s wrong, right?”

“Mmm, yeah, I know.” Eunha avoids looking at her for a moment, and fidgets a little, adjusting her position.

As the quiet consumes them, Yuna thinks that’s all there will be to the conversation, and shuts her eyes. But then Eunha finally answers, voice quiet, maybe a little shaky still. “It was just a bad dream…”

“Yeah?” Part of her wants to ask what about because bad dreams for Eunha can range from something like aliens taking over the world to monsters under the bed grabbing her and dragging her there. The dreams, although scary to Eunha, tend to be ridiculous and something they’ll laugh over later because they can be so wild.

But now doesn’t seem like the right time. Eunha still seems shaken up about it—much calmer, yes, but completely better? No. So she settles for an attempt to be comforting, even though it probably won’t do much. “Whatever it was, it’s okay now, though.”

“Yeah…” Eunha looks at her and moves a little closer. “Hey, Yuna? What would you do if I wasn’t around? Like if we got separated or lost or something?”

“I’d find you,” she says without a moment’s hesitation. It isn’t until she sees Eunha’s bright smile that she realizes what she said, but it’s too late to take it back—not like she’d want to anyway, she means it, after all. “So…don’t worry about it, okay? If that’s what you dreamed about, don’t let it bother you.”

Although she’s expecting teasing of some sort to occur, Eunha doesn’t go there. Instead, she hugs Yuna tighter, leans in closer, the smile still on her face and it seems like whatever fear she had because of that nightmare is gone now, chased away. “Okay. Thank you, Yuna. Goodnight!”

“‘Night.” She wraps her arms around Eunha, falls asleep soon after that, warm and happy.

Waking up the next morning after Eunha’s arm whacked her hard in the face and nearly falling off the edge of the bed is still annoying, of course—Yuna has no trouble letting Eunha know that when she slaps her arm away and shoves her to the other side of the bed—but maybe it’s slightly more bearable, maybe she’s not as annoyed as she could have been. Because she made Eunha feel better, safer, helped her relax. And honestly, although she’d never actually say this out loud, that’s enough to overpower any annoyance she may feel toward Eunha’s ridiculous sleeping habits and make Yuna happy too.

II. (age 13)

Yuna wakes in the middle of the night, at nearly three in the morning, when she hears her phone on the table next to her bed buzzing, the screen lighting up the dark room as Eunha’s name flashes across it.

She picks it up quickly, pressing it to her ear. “Hello?”

There’s no answer at first, but she still waits a moment for some sort of sign that Eunha is there. “ if you sleep dialed me, I swear I’ll—”

“Yuna…”

She nearly jumps at the soft voice on the other end, mainly because she’s not expecting it so suddenly after the silence, but also because she’s surprised to hear Eunha sound so quiet, kind of scared. And she immediately panics. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She doesn’t sound completely sure, though, so the answer does nothing to calm Yuna’s worriness.

“You don’t sound fine. And calling me in the middle of the night doesn’t say fine either, Eunha.” She rolls over onto her side, almost ready to get out of bed and walk the short distance across the street to Eunha’s house if she has to. “What’s up?”

It’s silent for a moment longer, and Yuna is about to ask again, but Eunha finally answers her. “Can’t sleep. My parents went away this weekend, you know? And…and I don’t really like being here alone.”

Idiot. Why didn’t she say something earlier? Yuna would have had no problem staying over or letting Eunha stay at her house. “Want me to come over?”

“No, Yuna, it’s fine. I don’t want to make you…”

“If I minded, I wouldn’t have offered, idiot.”

“I know that,” Eunha says, and Yuna pictures her, lying flat on her back looking up at the ceiling, phone pressed to her ear and a soft smile on her lips. “Can you… can you just stay on the line with me? For a little while… at least until I fall asleep?”

“Sure.”

They talk for a while. First it’s just Eunha filling the quiet spaces with words, with anything really, and Yuna is content just listening to her voice, the way it rises the slightest bit with excitement at the story she’s telling, the way it quiets down and becomes a little muffled as she shifts her position or yawns. She’ll answer Eunha’s questions, keep the conversation going with her own thoughts, happy to hear Eunha’s quiet laughs and soft responses.

“Hey, Yuna?” Eunha finally asks after a lull in conversation—those are becoming more and more common as they both drift towards sleep, long pauses and more breaths heard than actual words as it gets later and later.

“Hmm?” She had her eyes shut for a moment, and doesn’t bother opening them. Eunha’s voice is soothing, is lulling her to sleep.

“Can I stay over tomorrow night? So I’m not alone again?”

Yuna sighs softly, curling her fingers into her blanket. “‘Course you can. You don’t even have to ask, you know…”

“Okaaaay.” Eunha yawns, and there’s a short pause before she says more. “Yuna, thanks again.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Yeah, but still...” She hears rustling on the other line and figures that it’s just Eunha shifting her position to get comfortable. “Goodnight if I fall asleep…”

“Yeah, goodnight. Come over for breakfast in the morning if you want.”

She doesn’t get any response for a few moments, and only hears soft and even breathing when she listens closely through the phone. “‘Night,” she murmurs softly, before finally drifting off to sleep as well.

III. (age 15)

“Don’t fall asleep there!” Yuna swats at Eunha’s leg lightly when she feels the other’s head lean on her shoulder and the grip around her neck loosen.

“But Yuna, you’re so comfy,” Eunha murmurs softly, nuzzling her head against Yuna’s shoulder. “Better than any pillow.”

Yuna rolls her eyes, trying to ignore the way her face suddenly feels warm at Eunha’s closeness. “Don’t sleep while I’m carrying you. We’re almost home, so just wait.”

“Fine…”

After finally forcing Eunha to leave the studio after practicing so late, and as they had begun to walk home, Yuna had noticed the other limping slightly, as if she was trying to avoid putting pressure on her right knee. With a sigh, she had pulled Eunha to a stop and told her she’d carry her the rest of the way home, not wanting her to hurt her knee any further.

Eunha, who had been quiet about it at first—probably because she was the one trying to hide the injury in the first place—quickly got comfortable on Yuna’s back, though. So comfortable she was falling asleep on the way home.

Just thinking about it stirs up an odd mixture of anger and frustration and worry all at the same time. She’s angry at Eunha for trying to hide the injury in the first place, frustrated that Eunha just won’t quit with all of the extra practice and overworking herself, worried that Eunha has seriously hurt herself this time, that this could be really bad.

But she doesn’t say anything right now, it’s a conversation they can have later. Right now, she just wants to get Eunha home and make sure she’s alright. Fighting now won’t do any good.

“Can I stay at your house?” Eunha asks when they’re nearly there. “It’s probably easier that way.”

“Yeah, fine.”

When they get to her house and upstairs, she gently sets Eunha down on the bed, finds her some clothes that she’s left there before and tosses them at Eunha’s head before changing herself and going downstairs to get ice for Eunha’s knee.

When she gets back, she hands Eunha the ice and shoves her shoulder gently. “Go to sleep.”

Eunha doesn’t lay down, though, and just looks at her instead, eyes a little surprised at the words. “But it’s your bed. I usually—”

“You’re hurt and probably exhausted.” Yuna pushes her shoulder again. “Put the ice on your knee and go to sleep. It’s fine.”

Eunha still doesn’t seem keen on the idea, and crosses her arms over her chest as she watches Yuna set up a makeshift bed on the floor, where she’d been planning to sleep since she’d given Eunha the bed. “No.”

She’s torn between laughter and annoyance as she looks up and see Eunha, ice sitting in her lap, arms crossed over her chest, and the signature pout—the one that says I’m not doing this, you can’t make me—on her lips. “I’m not sleeping, then.”

Yuna sighs, irritation definitely overpowering the urge to laugh she had felt a moment before. “What do you mean you’re not sleeping, ?”

“I’m not sleeping alone in your bed.” Eunha sounds more like she did when she was five than the teenager she is now, and it’s relatively endearing, but also annoying because this is a dumb issue to fight over, really.

“Seriously?” Her face feels warm again, and although they’ll often bicker over trivial and useless things, it’s still annoying to think that she’ll probably end up caving in just because Eunha pouts and whines a little bit. Eunha almost always wins in situations like this, and the idiot knows it.

(That’s one thing she’s always hated. Okay, not hated. It’s more of a mystery, really. She doesn’t completely understand the desire to see her best friend happy, a desire so strong that she’ll cave in, indulge Eunha, and let her have what she wants just to keep her from crying or pouting or being upset. If there’s one thing she wants explained to her, it’s that feeling.)

“If you don’t sleep up here, then I’ll sleep down there with you,” Eunha continues, tone still just as defiant.

Eunha is such a brat, and Yuna wants to ask her why they’re even bickering over an issue like this. Why of all the things they could fight over—have fought over these past few weeks considering Eunha’s tendency to stay late after practice, working hard and seemingly forgetting everything—this? But instead, Yuna simply sighs, leaning back, her hands propping her up as she sits back and looks at Eunha. “We’re too old for that anyway.”

It’s true. When they were kids, sharing a bed was normal. Generally uncomfortable, because Eunha is the biggest bed hog she has ever met in her whole damn life, but normal. Now, she thinks it would be uncomfortable. One, because they’ve grown, awkward and gangly limbs that accompanied adolescence an obstacle to comfort. Two, because Yuna has begun to notice the strange hammering of her heart when Eunha is near, the way her face flushes, red and hot, when Eunha lingers too close, throwing an arm across her shoulders and grabbing hands and other affectionate gestures, the way Eunha seems to occupy most corners of Yuna’s mind, and even when she doesn’t, how she manages to effortlessly worm her way back into Yuna’s thoughts.

Sometimes, she thinks about kissing her friend, of feeling her smile against her own, of assuring her with a simple press of their lips that Eunha is enough, everything, perfect, and doesn’t have to worry about like being surpassed by a genius first year or losing out to an unbeatable team.

(She’s always been number one in Yuna’s eyes, and no matter what, that’s what she’ll always be.)

Eunha seems to think about her words for a moment, but quickly waves her hand in dismissal, deeming them stupid as she rolls her eyes, lips cracking into a grin. “Didn’t know stupid stuff like that bothered you, Yuna.”

“It doesn’t,” Yuna insists. “But do you think I wanna spend my night sleeping on the edge of the bed because you take up so much room or that I want to be kicked or slapped in the face with your arms? I’m tired too, you know. Have some consideration.”

Eunha laughs and leans forward, stretching her arm out and reaching for Yuna’s hand. “What if I promise to stay on my side of the bed?”

You won’t, Yuna thinks, but she shrugs, muttering a simple, “I guess it’d be okay, then.”

The smile on Eunha’s face, if anything, is worth it.

…

“Hey , I thought you were gonna stay on your side.”

Upon their agreement to share the bed, Yuna turned away from Eunha to face the wall, with every intention of falling asleep quickly. At least until she feels shifting around in the bed and hears what sounds like a little wherper of pain.

She rolls over quickly, catching the slight grimace on Eunha’s face before it’s masked with a strained smile. “You okay?”

Eunha nods, pulling her hand away from her knee, probably in hope that Yuna won’t notice. It’s a fruitless attempt, really, because Yuna would never miss something like that.

The ice from earlier is gone now, thrown to the side, but obviously the pain is not. But still, Eunha is forcing a smile, acting like nothing is wrong. “I’m fine, Yuna. Just a little sore from practice, that’s—”

There’s an audible hitch in Eunha’s breath when Yuna pulls the covers back to look, her fingers brushing over Eunha’s knee.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, not too bad…” She shuts her eyes, chewing on her bottom lip while Yuna rubs her knee gently. “Really, Yuna, I’m fine.”

In part, she believes the words, but she also knows how Eunha tends to brush things off and put on a fake smile to act like everything is fine even when it’s definitely not. “Dammit, Eunha,” she hisses. “You’re an idiot.”

Eunha laughs, but it’s not the usual happy, good-natured laughter Yuna is used to. This is darker, bitter. “Always so mean, Yuna, even when I’m hurting. I don’t think my poor heart can handle—”

“What’s the point of all of this if you get hurt?”

Eunha shrugs, looking away from her. “I don’t know.”

“Then stop it. Stop doing this to yourself. It’s not worth it.”

“You wouldn’t understand anyway…”

That pisses her off. “You think I don’t understand? You’re an idiot, Eunha. A ing moron! I do get it. I understand how you feel, but if you think I’m gonna sit back and let my damn best friend hurt herself, then you’re wrong.”

Eunha’s eyes widen. “Yuna…”

“Go to sleep,” she murmurs, pulling her hand away from Eunha’s knee and pulling the covers back up. “There’s no practice tomorrow, so you’re resting. I don’t give a if you fight me on it, that’s what’s happening.”

There’s an overwhelming silence for a few minutes after Yuna rolls over back over and away from Eunha, and she wonders if Eunha fell asleep.

But then someone grabs her from behind, hugging her tightly. “Yuna… Yuna, I’m sorry.”

It doesn’t sound like Eunha is finished, so she remains silent, acting as if she’s asleep.

“Sometimes…I think you’re too good to me, you know?” She laughs slightly, but it’s more like she’s trying to fill in the silence with something other than her own words. “And whenever you try to help me I mess up and push you away. Thank you. Thanks for staying even though—”

“You’re stupid for thinking I wouldn’t,” she says quietly, feeling Eunha tense, but then relax again as Yuna rolls over and throws an arm over her waist. “I’m not going anywhere, isn’t that obvious?”

“Yeah, but I always wonder if…”

“Don’t spend time wondering about stupid things. I don’t care what you do, I’m not leaving. Someone’s gotta be here to drag you out of the you get into, right?”

“Right.” Eunha smiles and hugs Yuna tighter, and it feels like everything it okay now, has settled. Like no matter what is thrown at them, they’ll be fine. “And besides, no one is a better pillow than you, Yuna. How would I ever be comfortable again?”

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t push Eunha away. “You’d figure something out, I’m sure.”

“But what if I don’t want to?”

She smiles and can practically hear the way her heart is hammering in her chest, hoping Eunha can’t feel it because that’s just… really embarrassing. When did Eunha get the power to make Yuna feel like this? As if she didn’t have enough already, it’s completely unfair.

“You’re okay, right?”

“Mmhmm,” Eunha murmurs sleepily from where she’s curled up against Yuna’s chest. “Doesn’t hurt that much anymore. Only a little.”

“Good.” For a moment, she’s tempted to curl her fingers in Eunha’s hair and pull her closer, but she stops herself, pulls her hand away and murmurs a simple, “Get some sleep.”

Even if she wanted to, she doubts she’d be able to push away Eunha, who is almost asleep and holding onto her tightly, nuzzling her face against Yuna’s shirt. “Goodnight, Yuna.”

“Goodnight.”

IV. (age 17)

The summer sports training camp of their third year is hell, for lack of a better word. Not because of the training itself (which is bad enough, but bearable), but because it’s so damn hot.

Even at night, it’s still so hot that it’s uncomfortable and hard to fall asleep, no matter how tired they all are.

What makes it worse, Yuna decides, is that Eunha rolled over from her spot next to her and decided to cling onto her.

Not here, dammit. It’s hot and not to mention that all of their teammates will see, and after the questions and teasing they’ve received before about being a couple—Sojung asking curiously once back at the beginning of the school year, Eunbi and Yerin laughing like Yuna spluttering out a “no” was the funniest thing they’ve ever seen in their lives—waking up the next morning with Eunha curled up against her is not something she wants to deal with.

“Get off,” she whispers, careful not to wake any of their teammates as she shoves Eunha’s shoulder. “It’s hot.”

“Mmm what?” Even though it’s obvious Eunha is still awake, she pretends like she was asleep and Yuna so rudely woke her up. “What’s wrong?”

“Get back in your own spot,” Yuna insists.

“Make me.” Eunha sticks her tongue out, looking and acting like a five years old, like usual, and Yuna smacks her lightly upside the head.

“I’m not going to suffer tomorrow because you kept me up all night. Go to sleep. In your own spot. Away from me.”

Eunha sighs dramatically, like she’s been asked to do the most tiresome task in the world instead of simply having to roll over and go to damn sleep. “Always pushing me away, Yuna. So mean.”

“I’m not pushing you away. It’s called I want to sleep and you’re preventing that. So goodnight Eunha.” She turns away, even though Eunha looks like she wants to grab onto her again.

“But Yuna—!”

“I said goodnight Eunha.”

They both freeze when they hear one of their teammates move, and remain quiet for a few moments in fear of waking everyone up. It quiets down soon after and is probably safe to talk again, but Eunha doesn’t say anything for a little longer. And Yuna thinks that for once maybe she’s won.

“I can’t sleep well when I’m not somewhere familiar, you know.”

And there goes that idea. As if Eunha would let her win that easily. Of course not. It’s not in Eunha’s nature to give up, even over something as trivial as sleeping arrangements.

“I know, but what do I have to do with that?” Eunha almost always sleeps badly when she’s not home or somewhere she feels comfortable with. Yuna remembers other training camps or sleepovers at other kids’ houses where Eunha had slept poorly and been tired the next day.

Eunha laughs quietly, moving so she’s kneeling and leaning over Yuna. She pokes her cheek. “You’re stupid, Yuna. Isn’t it obvious?”

Maybe at any time other than the middle of the night it would be obvious.

Despite asking the question, Eunha doesn’t allow her time to answer. “You’re familiar, Yuna. You know, kind of like home.”

She bites her lip, praying that it’s dark enough and that there is no possible way Eunha can see the blush that’s sure to be on her cheeks. Her stomach does a strange sort of dip at the words, and dammit she’s torn between wanting to curl up and disappear or punch Eunha’s shoulder or something because it feels like she’s been laid bare and that Eunha can see absolutely everything she’s feeling even if she tries her best to hide it. Which is not exactly something she wants to deal with at the moment, when all of their teammates are sleeping around them.

She’s grown used to the feeling she has for Eunha by now. Doesn’t mean it’s gone away, but she’s better at concealing it, at accepting that pulling a stupid stunt like diving into a relationship could ruin what they have, and she doesn’t want to do that. Not when there’re only a few months of high school left, when the future is uncertain and unclear. No matter how much she wants more, she’s content just staying by Eunha’s side and will accept that. If Eunha wants more too, then fine, they can cross that bridge when they get to it.

(You’ll never know if she wants that if you don’t do something first. What if she’s just as scared as you are, or doesn’t realize it yet? is what the reckless part of her says. But the sensible part overpowers any urge she may have to act on what she feels, and holds her back.)

But when Eunha says stuff like that so freely, it really is hard to stay sensible. Nearly impossible, honestly.

So even though she’d been initially against it, she sighs, rolling back over to face Eunha. “Come here.”

Eunha smiles, bright and happy, looking like she’s won something, and flops down next to Yuna, curling up against her. “I knew you’d give in.”

“I just don’t want to see you falling asleep during practice tomorrow and have the whole team suffer for it,” Yuna mutters quietly. “It’s for the team, not for you.”

There’s soft laughter and fingers curled into the back of her shirt. “Sure, Yuna. Keep telling yourself that.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

Eunha yawns. “‘Night, Yuna. Thanks.”

Her eyes almost fly open at that, because Eunha using her first name instead of the nickname that has stuck since early childhood is a rare occurrence. But she stays calm. At least she thinks so, but in a way, it probably doesn’t matter because Eunha has always been good at seeing through her, can read every little thing without really even having to try, the overpowering sense of familiarity and being together from childhood onwards makes doing so effortless. For both of them. (Honestly, it’s a wonder she hasn’t realized that Yuna feels something more than friendship for her yet.)

Still, she waits a little bit, until she’s sure Eunha’s asleep, before she opens her eyes, watching the other sleeping peacefully now. Once she’s comfortable and tired enough, Eunha always falls asleep so easily. “How many times do I have say that you don’t have to thank me?” She takes a breath, says the next word uncertainly, almost like she’s testing it, “Eunha.”

After a moment’s hesitation, her fingers brush Eunha’s bangs away from her forehead. “Goodnight, Eunha.” she says quietly, much more certain this time, enjoying each syllable, the way Eunha’s name sounds on her lips.

Eventually, they’re woken up to snickering and someone—Yerin, she’s pretty sure—snapping a picture of them on her phone early the next morning and laughing hysterically with Eunbi while the first and second years look either amused or uncomfortable.

a pain, dealing with all of the teasing and jabs, but when Yuna sees Eunha, awake and not tired, happy because of a good night’s sleep—one that can be accredited to her—she wants to say that it’s worth it.

V. (age 18)

“Move your legs.” Without even waiting for confirmation or for Yuna to do so herself, Eunha pushes her legs off of the couch and flops down next to her, laying her head in Yuna’s lap.

“I don’t remember agreeing to this,” Yuna says, looking down at her. Eunha has pulled out her phone, no longer paying attention to what they had been watching on TV, much more focused on the screen in front of her and whatever text she’s typing out.

She turns her head, looking up at Yuna, a smile on her lips and mischievous glint in her eyes. “You’d never kick me off, though, right Yuna?”

“No promises.”

Eunha laughs, turning back to look at her phone, while Yuna focuses on the TV again, somewhere along the way ending up absentmindedly Eunha’s hair. The movie only holds her interest because it’s so bad that it’s funny, some weird action movie that Eunha had found surfing through channels and suggested they watch. Of course, Eunha lost interest barely halfway in, which is how they ended up in their current position in the first place.

“What the hell are we watching anyway?” Yuna finally asks after a while, finally glancing away from the screen when Eunha doesn’t respond right away. “Hey…”

Eunha is asleep, her phone still clutched in her hands, and Yuna finds herself smiling at the sight of her sleeping peacefully like this. They should probably move to bed, though. It’s late, and sleeping on the couch, especially like this, wouldn’t really be the most comfortable for either of them. Eunha is easy enough to carry anyway, she’s light, and Yuna can lift her carefully enough that she doesn’t even wake up on the trip from the couch to her bedroom.

Yuna carefully pulls the phone from Eunha’s hands, and is about to set it aside when something catches her eye. The picture on the lock screen. It’s from the beginning of this past summer, a selfie Eunha had taken of herself and Yuna on a walk home from school. Their cheeks are pressed together, Eunha’s arm thrown across Yuna’s shoulders, and they’re both smiling. Although it’s a little bit blurry and definitely not the best picture ever taken, back when she first snapped the photo, Eunha had said it’s one of her favorites.

She smiles when she sees the picture, thinking back on not only that memory, but on just how many memories they’ve shared, of how long they’ve been together, side by side. Of how she’s slowly fallen in love with the idiot in her lap, her very best friend, someone she’s been drawn to from day one, someone she’s always been with, someone she can’t imagine life without.

No matter how annoying or obnoxious or troublesome Eunha can be, no matter how childishly she acts, Yuna would never trade anything for this. Ever. They’re adjacent pieces in a puzzle, fit perfectly, meant to go together, make each other better, stronger.

She doesn’t remember her first meeting with Eunha—they were way too young to be able to remember that, only babies—but one of the first memories she has of the other girl, the image that sticks out most in her head, is when they were three. She remembers Eunha hiding behind her mother’s leg, holding onto her hand tightly until she was gently nudged forward and they were both told to go play together. They had gotten into a fight over some stupid toy Eunha had brought with to the park, both insisting they had a better idea of what they should play. Eunha had cried like a big baby when Yuna pinched her and in an effort to stop the girl’s tears, Yuna had agreed to play whatever it was she wanted, in part because she hadn’t wanted to get in trouble, but she thinks there was probably another reason as well. Almost like some sort of strange force drew her in, drew them together, and there really was no debating anything else that came after because that’s just how it’s always been. Them, together.

I never stood a chance against you, did I? She wants to laugh because really, it’s been inevitable since day one, writing on the wall that she’d develop some sort of unbreakable connection and strong bond with Eunha, and everything she’s ever felt for her really isn’t that surprising. That mixture of fondness, admiration, appreciation, love, it’s always going to be there. No matter what.

And maybe it’s okay to finally act on that. Maybe it’s okay to at least try.

But that’s a confession for later, she thinks, as she runs her hand through Eunha’s hair one last time before carefully maneuvering off the couch and scooping the other up into her arms, carrying her to bed.

…

“Yuna?”

“Ah, sorry you woke up.” She shifts her position in Eunha’s bed so she can see her clearly, awake now a few moments after the trip from the couch to the bed.

“It’s fine,” Eunha says sleepily, sliding closer and snuggling against Yuna. “You’re warm.”

Yuna laughs. “Glad I could be of help.”

It’s quiet for a few moments after that, and Yuna is pretty sure Eunha has fallen back asleep, and she’s on the verge of sleep herself. Until she hears Eunha’s soft voice. “How come you never push me away?”

Even though she’s almost asleep and could easily avoid Eunha’s quiet words, barely there and possible of being a dream in the first place, she answers. “Hmm?”

“When we sleep,” Eunha says, this time louder. “You never push me away.”

Their eyes meet and maybe it’s tiredness from practice that day, or the thoughts from earlier or just her own stupidity and desire to finally blurt out how she’s felt for years, but she finds herself saying, “What if I don’t want to?”

Eunha doesn’t respond right away, and Yuna worries that had been the wrong thing to say and that she’s ed everything up with one simple sentence. But the next words are a relief, calm her. “Good. I don’t want you to. I like it here… I like you here. So don’t go, okay?”

Even after years together, filled with many affectionate touches and shared smiles and promises passed between them, she feels like this is the most intimate, the most honest, they’ve ever been. It feels like they’re moving somewhere and not staying the same they’ve always been, like they’re changing the pitch but playing the same song. A new rhythm, a new beat, but still familiar and safe and home.

“We’re talking about more than sleeping arrangements, aren’t we?”

“Isn’t that obvious? I thought you were smarter than that, Yuna.” Eunha smiles, real, bright, so completely beautiful and perfect and before Yuna can even completely process it, they’re both leaning in, their lips meeting.

It’s quick and gentle, tentative and unsure, lasts for only a few seconds, and when they pull back they both are probably sharing the same looks—eyes a little wide in surprise, but lips upturned in soft smiles. Happy.

And then they’re leaning toward each other, kissing again, much more certain now that once unspoken feelings have been finally confirmed. Eunha presses herself closer, and Yuna rests a hand on her cheek, fingers ghosting over her skin. After so long, after wondering what this would be like and dwelling on it, this is finally happening, and it feels perfect, like it was meant to happen, like there could be nothing better.

When they pull apart, foreheads pressed together, Eunha laughs breathlessly. “Yuna.”

“What?”

“Why did we wait so long to do that?”

“No idea. Stupid of us?”

As if an attempt to make up for lost time and missed kisses, Eunha leans in again.

“Yuna,” she murmurs between quick, insistent kisses and breathless laughs. “Yuna!”

“Hm?” She almost wants to ignore Eunha’s words, much more occupied with the newfound pleasure of kissing her and holding her close like this, now that something she’s thought about doing for so long is finally a reality.

But then Eunha pulls away, holds onto Yuna’s shoulders and presses her flat against the mattress, leaning in so close that Yuna can feel her warm breath on her face. “Yuna.”

“What?” she asks, looking up into Eunha’s smiling face, the thought that she wouldn’t mind seeing it forever quickly passing through her mind. “What is it?”

“I love you.” She leans up and presses another quick kiss to Yuna’s lips. “I love you so much, Yuna.”

Yuna smiles, the words they’ve been holding back for so long finally out there and perfect to hear, and wraps her arms around Eunha, pulling her against her chest they’re laying down together once again. “I love you too.” She presses a soft and gentle kiss to Eunha’s forehead. “I love you too, Jeong Eunha.”

VI. (age 22)

Being a couple really doesn’t change much between them, honestly. They still spend as much time together, but now there’s the added bonus of touching and kissing frequently, something that didn’t accompany mere friendship.

If anything, things have stayed mostly the same. Eunha still teases, Yuna still jabs her in the side, punches her in the shoulder, smacks her upside the head. Eunha still insists on using Yuna as a pillow, Yuna still lets her flop all over her and curl up against her side. Eunha still has the same weird sleeping habits—ones where she likes to be near Yuna after nightmares, hates sleeping alone and in unfamiliar places, needs to hold on tightly and cuddle in bed, will fall asleep on Yuna’s shoulder when they’re sitting on the couch—and Yuna still accepts and indulges each and every one.

“Yuna...” Eunha says quietly one night, just as Yuna is about to fall asleep, Eunha poking her in the cheek a few times. “Yuna.”

“Yes?”

“Yuna.”

“What's the matter?”

"I love you."

This is a newer habit, one that didn’t appear until after they had shared that first kiss a few years ago, but one that fits perfectly into place, like it’s always belonged.

“I love you too, Eunha.” Yuna pulls her closer, presses a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Now go to sleep.”

Jeong Eunha is still a complete child, still has completely ridiculous and strange habits and routines she falls into. But. Choi Yuna would never trade any of it. Never. Ever.