It started a little like this:

The courtyard was already packed when the entire morning rolled by. Students from different majors poured in and mingled together, often in pairs and acting disgustingly romantic as though the open place was a stage and they were the next kdrama’s it couple waiting to break viewer ratings—

“It’s only 1 pm,” Nako said, pointing at Yuri with fork still dripping in pasta sauce. “It’s too early to be bitter about love.”

“I’m not bitter.” Yuri denied with a huff. She picked at the package of her sandwich, peeling it open. “I’m just fed up with sunshine and roses.”

“Careful, Yul.” From her left, Minju’s voice came, alight with amusement. “One of those disgusting sunshine and roses is our very best friend.” She pointed towards where Hitomi was sitting, for once separated from the rest of them after three whole semesters of spending lunch as four. There was a smile on the latter’s face as someone approached her with two-tiered lunchbox held preciously between two nervous palms and Yuri heard Nako say over a generous twirl of spaghetti,

“Can’t believe I lived long enough to see Hii-chan getting food poisoning.”

Minju flicked her fingers at the latter’s forehead. “Don’t be like that,” she admonished. “Chaewon-unnie knows a thing or two about cooking.”

Yuri let the conversation flow around her, her motions on autopilot as she watched their faraway friend joining in the act of disgusting sunshine and roses. Minju was listing off the people Chaewon had apparently contacted for the past week to learn a recipe from and Hitomi giggled at something Chaewon said, accepting the container offered to her. Nako was telling Minju that ‘we’ll see,’ following it up with ‘Imma run over there if Hii-chan as much as coughs after a chew’ and Hitomi opened to let Chaewon feed her a slice of something. Minju was gesturing as though to say ‘see, no one’s dying’ and far, far away from them, Hitomi beamed at Chaewon, flashing her a thumbs up while Chaewon glowed at the wordless praise.

Nako tried to retort that ‘some food poisoning take time’ and Yuri looked away the moment Chaewon leaned in to wipe something off Hitomi’s lips, Minju reiterating once again that their senior knew a thing or two about cooking so Nako didn’t have to worry, bantering voices now a distant noise to Yuri’s ears.

This is life. was all Yuri heard, her own voice rumbling heavily inside her head.

It’s just life; Kim Chaewon knew a thing or two about cooking, while Jo Yuri knew a thing or two about unrequited love.

She knew the flicker of something that flitted past one’s heart when they saw the person they loved, happy with someone else. She knew how it tasted—it was sweet and it was bitter, a tenfold the latter when one gradually came into the realization that they would never be able to evoke the same level of happiness this someone else could, the weight of cruel truth dragging their stomach down until it settled at the soles of their feet like a fixed gravestone.

She knew of the resignation that would sink in afterwards, the reluctant acceptance—because one couldn’t force love, wasn’t supposed to according to literature books and told tragedies. She knew of the heavy clench in one’s heart when they inevitably decided to let go, to leave that happiness be because the person they loved deserved to be happy… even if they didn’t find that happiness with them.

(Even if Hitomi didn’t find that happiness with her.)

 

 

…………

 

 

“You’ve been really quiet lately.”

Yuri barely looked up from the scratches of her pen upon open notes. “I’m brainstorming,” she said simply, “Professor Lee wants this done in at least three pages. I’m only three paragraphs in.”

Minju sighed. Next to her Nako said, “We should’ve just tagged along with Hii-chan to the café. At least then we’ll have drinks—”

“Weren’t you planning to cut back on caffeine and sugar?” Yuri asked calmly, earning a startled gasp and a quiet oof. A crumpled tissue flew a little above Yuri’s head, a failed projectile. “You can’t always say it starts tomorrow.” She added, reaching over the trackpad of her laptop to scroll down the journal she was viewing.

“You’re merciless.” Minju commented at the same time Nako dramatically re-enacted getting shot straight to her heart.

“Someone has to be.”

“It was a brutal reply even for you, Yul—”

Yuri scoffed, “Life is a series of brutal replies.”    

“What happened with YOLO?” she heard Nako tearfully ask. “What happened with living the life, Jo Yuri? I missed my best friend, I missed my—”

“—deadline for that make-up class last week. Yes, I remember. Do you?”

This time Yuri did lift her gaze up beyond the screen of her laptop, peering at Nako’s frozen expression. Minju furrowed her eyebrows, whispering to Nako ‘what deadline?’ and Yuri snorted quietly in amusement.

So, Nako hadn’t told the mom of their group about that one mistake, huh? How unfortunate. She opened and Nako’s eyes widened, “Jo Yuri don’t you dare—”

“She submitted her literature assignment two hours past deadline~”

Yuri blinked while Nako gasped in betrayal, a pained exclamation of ‘Hii-chan!!!’ saving Yuri from having to turn around to look for the source of the voice that had just beaten her into exposing Nako’s deed. A familiar giggle followed, moving from behind Yuri to her side, another body settling onto the vacant seat next to her own. She heard a sickeningly familiar voice lightly say ‘see you at home’ and the fade away of footsteps and—

She definitely didn’t need to check to know who her sudden seatmate was.

(Not that she couldn’t recognize it from the first spoken syllable, judging from the cold breeze swooping down her stomach and the involuntary swallow she did as she sat still.)

“Finally joining us single peasants, huh?” Minju teased.

“It’s not like that,” Hitomi laughed, scratching at her nape in embarrassment. “And hello. I see you guys are still working,”

“Weren’t you from whatsitscalled café?” Nako hopefully asked, eyeing the bag Hitomi placed on the table and Yuri zoned into that instead of the rosy flush on Hitomi’s cheeks over being teased about her date. God, Yuri didn’t remember Nako being so glutton when they first met; where did those foods even go when Nako hadn’t grown an inch taller?

“And weren’t you planning to cut back on sugar?” Hitomi shot back. Yuri allowed herself a smile at the theatrical gasp Nako yet again released. Hitomi grinned, “We didn’t want to spill drinks on our way back, so I don’t bring any, but Junho bought too much pastries and asked me to share them with you guys.” She took out a nice-smelling carton that instantly made Nako lean forward.

“I thought it was a date with only Chaewon-unnie?” Minju questioned, watching as Hitomi let Nako’s grabby hands get ahold of the carton.

“Hm? Oh, no.” Hitomi gestured sideways to the big pane of glass across the room that separated them and the outside world—two guys and Chaewon standing among said world chatting lightly between themselves. “Yunseong and Junho came with us too. They wanted some help with Japanese—”

Yuri glanced over at the direction Hitomi was pointing at, eyes squinting to identify the aforementioned people. She had known Yunseong for a while because the guy to Chaewon was the three of them to Hitomi, so naturally they got to know each other along with the two’s repeated encounters… but Junho she had only heard about recently when Hitomi started to tell them more things pertaining the dance club she’s in.

(‘He’s a quiet guy,’ Hitomi would say when Nako and Minju had finally stopped trying to get her to talk about Chaewon. ‘But he gets brighter around Yunseong; they have such a precious friendship.’

Minju would chime in after ‘like ours?’  with a grin while Nako would fake retching noises in the background.)

Yuri narrowed her eyes slightly at the memory. From the distance, she could see Junho smiling as he listened to what Yunseong was saying, but—

“So it was just the four of you?” Nako asked.

“Oh, no. It was five of us; Suyun was there for a while…” Chaewon caught Hitomi’s gaze through the glass and grinned, causing Hitomi to jolt and look away in a hurry. Yuri pretended she hadn’t seen that. “She uhhh… Came to accompany Yunseong—they got together two weeks ago.” Hitomi then perfected a glare at the three of them, “So I’d like to let you know that the lovey-dovey ones weren’t me and Chaewon-unnie, thank you very much.”

“Sure, sure,” Nako said with mouth full of croissant.

“If you say so.” Minjoo smoothly nodded, always so placating.

Yuri just forced out a smile, glancing over at the window glass again. Her gaze settled on Junho, smile thin where it should’ve been bright, and eyes fixated on Yunseong even as Chaewon rattled on about something.

He gets brighter around Yunseong.

Yuri wondered how bright Junho shone before a thick cloud passed by and covered his light.

 

 

…………

 

 

Yuri knew a thing or two about unrequited feelings towards one’s friend.

It’s why she found herself approaching the corner of the library where Junho was sitting alone. Because the guy sat with his laptop open and there was nothing but the wallpaper he was viewing, his screen filled with a sketch of two guys that looked too much like Yunseong and himself. Because Yuri recognized longing and quiet heartache. Because Yuri could see the underlying fear in Junho’s startled jolt when she tapped at his shoulder and his first reflex was to hurriedly click and pull a window of Microsoft Word up.

Yuri knew these feelings, had lived with them for almost a year trying to not make it known.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Junho mumbled over her query about the wallpaper, forlorn eyes resolutely avoiding Yuri’s gaze.

“That’s okay,” Yuri replied calmly, sitting across him, “having our closest people as a wallpaper is perfectly normal.” She’s not there to interrogate Junho; she did have an assignment she needed the library for. So she took out her iPad and fiddled with it, going through a few websites she had kept open in the browser.

“…Am I that obvious?”

She paused, looking up. Junho had his head between his hands, the screen of his laptop lowered slightly compared to before as though he was trying to hide something from the world now. A flicker of empathy pricked at her heart and Yuri softened.

She’s not there to interrogate Junho, but she didn’t mind listening to him as he tried to cross the road she’d been walking on.

“You’re not obvious at all,” she finally said, attempting reassurance. “But I know how it feels like, so when I saw how you were, things just felt… familiar.”

Junho blinked up at her, eyebrows furrowing. The heat from the library light felt hot on the back of Yuri’s neck when Junho asked, “Who?”

Yuri tapped on her iPad until she found a little something that she could show him. A picture, of a certain couple that she had to take upon their request. They were strolling down the park and the weather was nice but Yuri had had to remind herself to smile because it stung, to stand there and snap a picture when you were hoping to be the one inside the frame instead.

Junho looked at it and his face grew conflicted for a second. “Is it—”         

“Hitomi and I don’t share the same type.” Yuri said in a low voice, and Junho’s expression cleared up. His gaze grew gentler, with understanding.

“So, she’s your type instead,” he said, equally quiet.

“…I guess.”

“I see.” Junho looked at the picture once again before pushing the iPad back. “That .”

Yuri snorted, head dipping in agreement. At least, she reflected, time did its work and the feelings had begun to hurt a little less. Enough for her to be able to admit the existence of it to someone else, something she would have never considered a few weeks ago.

She pulled her iPad closer and tabbed back onto her browser.

Junho didn’t say much afterwards, but his shoulders were a tad more relaxed and he no longer looked like he wanted to flee from the scene. It wasn’t a win (not when they were both losing in the grand scheme of things) but Yuri felt a little better, Junho felt a little better, and for once… they had the chance to not feel so alone.

 

 

…………

 

 

Hours became days, days became weeks, and as someone who had mostly kept to herself, Yuri had never thought that unrequited love could make her talk this much.

(To her credit, neither had Junho.)

Their now steady interactions had started in a somewhat peculiar manner: they had bumped into each other again in the bus, Junho on his way home and Yuri on her way to Minju’s place because the latter fell sick and she’s bringing her some notes plus the emergency samgyetang she’d picked up from the little shop outside of their uni’s gate. They didn’t talk at first, just a nod of acknowledgement and sitting side by side because each other was better than complete strangers.

 

(But then Yuri’s phone lit up and she checked it, punching in a reply with a small smile that had Junho asking ‘is that… you know?’

‘No. It’s—no.’ Yuri frowned as the image of Hitomi flitted past her mind.

‘Oh.’  Junho stifled a smile. ‘Sorry for making you think of her, then.’

‘You little—’ )

 

They exchanged numbers, and (again) they didn’t talk at first. Yuri had his number saved but didn’t know how to start a conversation without bringing up unrequited feelings and perhaps Junho was the same, so they didn’t text, didn’t call, their number on each other’s phone the only acknowledgement that the exchange happened—

But one night Yuri had climbed up to bed early and her phone lit up with a message from Junho.

 

[yuri > Uni Cha Junho]

 

Uni Cha Junho

Hv u ever given her an advice that was good for her but bad for u?

 

Yuri had given the message a long, hard look before heaving a sigh.

 

yuri

I told her to hold onto Chaewon-unnie more firmly…

bc you can pick up a spilled drink but it wont be the same.

 

Junho just sent her a spiderman ‘I don’t feel so good’ meme in response, and it took Yuri some time to get him to tell her what prompted the question. It led to heart-to-heart talks that lasted ‘till midnight, which led to even more heart-to-heart talks the days after, them turning towards each other to lament about quiet heartbreaks and silent wounds.

It was nice, getting to talk to someone about her hurt out and having the person on the other hand understand exactly what she was saying. Junho asked her if it would get any easier and she told him she didn’t know, maybe it would but it’s hard to tell, maybe they wouldn’t ever know until they looked back and the ache was only a passing sting as though telling them ‘Ah, right.

I loved this person once.’

 

“What are you smiling at?”

Yuri locked her phone instantly, surprised, wide eyes looking up from Junho’s message to meet with Minju’s curious gaze.

“Nothing!”

“You smile at nothing?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t everyone?” Yuri cleared and pocketed her phone, scooting aside to allow Minju to sit. “How was Professor Kang’s class?”

They were in the same class, but Yuri had to miss it because of the make-up quiz for the literature class that she had been absent from last week. Minju had promised to take more notes in her absence, essentially changing nothing because Yuri had always relied on Minju’s notes more than her own anyway.

(She dared not to tell Professor Kang that though.)

Minju grimaced at the question, “Let’s not talk about that.” She pulled her bag onto her lap and leaned sideways to rest her head against Yuri’s shoulder like Minju wasn’t one head taller and this gesture was probably what prevented Yuri from achieving any semblance to vertical growth.

“Let’s just talk about… the dinner tonight. Let’s talk about that. You’re coming, right?”

Yuri swallowed. She had almost forgotten the bi-monthly dinner their group had always held, creating blog posts of them visiting hotspots and trying out a variety of food. It had started as a way for Hitomi and Nako to use Korean more, written contents assigned to them while editing and taking pictures were Yuri and Minju’s problem.

(Now that Hitomi’s too fluent and Nako could out-curse any native Koreans when she’s heated, the tasks were a lot more flexible. ‘Good thing too,’ Nako would say in reminiscence, ‘I don’t know why no one’s reported our blog yet with all the preposterous food pics Min put on our posts—’

‘Hey!’ )

And… it used to be just the four of them, having little adventures to create memories between themselves. Except Hitomi had Chaewon, now, and four became five because Minju and Nako didn’t mind Chaewon’s presence and honestly Yuri didn’t mind Chaewon’s presence, either, individually.

Chaewon with Hitomi, on the other hand…

All the talks she had with Junho kind of helped with figuring out the intensity of her feelings now, because Junho felt so much and Yuri used to, too except it wasn’t really like that anymore. She still had to glance away when Chaewon came and held Hitomi’s hands like she’d been meaning to all her life, but she didn’t feel like the fire at the bottom of her stomach would eat up her entire being anymore. It was still there, quietly burning and depleting her oxygen in the way requited love wouldn’t but—

“I don’t know.”

Yuri replied and she felt a shift against her shoulder, Minju trying to peer at her expression. She took a deep breath and thought of Junho’s message just now about bonding over some shots of coffee, “I have something else in line later today, too… And it might coincide with our dinner, but I hope not.”

Minju let out a quiet huff, rising from her shoulder. “You better come; you can’t leave us fending off Hitomi’s love story alone.” She finished with a pinch to Yuri’s nose, eyebrows narrowing seriously.

Yuri twisted a smile on her lips, the slight pang in her heart unspoken for.

“I’ll try. Stop nagging me.” Then, “Was Professor Kang’s class really that bad?”

Minju groaned, head falling back to bury her face into the crook of Yuri’s neck. “Let’s not.”

 

 

…………

 

 

Yuri was careful with feelings (perhaps too careful at times) but she hadn’t been the most mindful with anything else.

That was the only defense she had for not noticing that the café Junho suggested was the same café they were planning to visit. And it would be fine except she had told them she couldn’t make it, ‘something urgent came up, sorry’, only to look up from her tall glass of macchiato and find Nako standing before her, question marks plastered all over her face.

“Something urgent, Yuri?”

Yuri felt dry up. “Uh—”

“I needed her insight for one of my assignments.” Junho was quick, becoming her knight in shining casual Saturday night clothes. Nako turned to face him and he continued with a degree of calmness that made Yuri wonder if it was his default the way dozing off was hers, “It has something to do with Busan. I feel bad to only ask for help without giving nothing, so I brought her here to treat her to at least one cup of coffee.”

Junho flashed a warm, apologetic smile and that did it for Nako. Which in turn did it for Hitomi and Chaewon too, because Nako added an element of believability when she recounted what Junho said to them, the latter excusing himself after thanking Yuri for something she didn’t actually do.

At the end of the day, Yuri found herself sitting at their table despite her best efforts not to. Fate worked in funny ways, sometimes like a circus, or maybe Yuri was the entire circus and she just hadn’t realized it yet.

“How did Junho know that you’re from Busan?”

Minju asked with a touch of lightness that seemed a smidge too light. Yuri didn’t expect that. When she thought of her friends finding out she ditched them to hang out with Junho, she imagined that Nako would be cross with her, Hitomi might try to get her to explain why while trying to not show disappointment but Minju…

She thought Minju would just smile and lead the topic away from her to let her breathe, like the many times she did just that when Yuri got herself into trouble and needed saving from difficult conversations. She thought right now would be the same, but evidently it was not the same…

Why wasn’t it the same?

“We were seat-buddies in the bus several times,” Yuri decided to say after all pairs of eyes around the table zoned onto her. It wasn’t an outright lie. “And… we talked.” She finished lamely.

“See what you could achieve when you sleep less?” Nako tsk-ed, gesturing vaguely towards the direction Junho had left to. “Free coffees today, a free house tomorrow…”

“Let’s not put too much pressure on Junho.” Chaewon said, amusement underlying her tone.

“Yes, let’s start off small.” Hitomi nodded in agreement. “Try getting him to buy you bread next—”

“Hitoma, Yuri is not you.”

Hitomi pretended to get mad and the conversation thankfully pivoted away from Yuri afterwards. Yuri stared down at the glass of mineral water she had ordered (because she couldn’t handle two cups of coffee without sacrificing sleep) and held it between her palms, glancing out as conversations flowed around her. Chaewon was chuckling and pinching Hitomi’s cheek. Hitomi was trying to appear serious. Nako was trying to egg Hitomi into staging a slap to her girlfriend, and Minju—

And Minju…

Minju was watching her amidst the sips of sweetened caffeine, eyes darting away when met and the weight of a gaze returning when Yuri looked elsewhere. She almost wanted Minju to just say whatever it was on her mind except she wasn’t sure she’d have the answers and so she sat there with a glass of mineral water and Minju not uttering a single word to her the entire night, despite sitting across each other.

It felt wrong, but Yuri didn’t want to feel in the wrong, not when it felt good to finally have someone she could unload that section of her heart onto without fearing that it would cause a crack in the four-way bond they had managed to forge throughout uni-related blood sweat and tears. Maybe she was being unfair but so was everyone else when they carried on with their life after Hitomi and Chaewon got together while all Yuri had wanted was for the world to stop and let her take it in until like was a verb of the past instead of the present.

So she it up and downed her mineral water, wondering if it was meant to taste bitter.

 

 

…………

 

 

Everyone has a little bit of the sun and moon in them.
Everybody has a little bit of man, woman, and animal in them.
Darks and lights in them.
Everyone is part of a connected cosmic system. Part earth and sea, wind and fire, with some salt and dust…

 

“You know I thought today’s lit reading was a vague jab towards my room,” Nako said as they walked out of class. “Like, get this: part earth and sea, that’s the dusts accumulating everywhere and my clogged kitchen sink… wind and fire, my forever broken ac that I really need to sue my landlord for because what the Hell.”

Hitomi laughed and told her to stop hanging out so much with Minju because ‘Nako-chan, you’re too dramatic even for me right now’ and the sound of an offended ‘yah! ’ compelled Yuri to glance over before she could stop herself.

Her gaze coincided with Minju, the joking lines painted on the latter’s face faltering but they took another step and then Minju seemed to just… restart herself. There was a beat, then the falter was replaced with a smile that made Yuri feel an indescribable amount of ashamed.

Because everyone had a little bit of the sun and moon in them but Minju perhaps had a lot more of the former. She was the sun that rose and casted a shadow on everything that didn’t shine as bright and Yuri was the darkest silhouette slinking across the ground hoping to not be noticed because every glance left her feeling a tad more guilty, every wordless second spent in her presence leaving her feeling like she should atone for something.

So she hung back slightly, steps slowing down and so did Minju’s because of course she would notice even Yuri’s smallest action. Hitomi and Nako walked ahead, still chatting between themselves while Minju matched her steps next to her, smile turning questioning.

Yuri felt vaguely like her life was about to end.

“I…” she coughed and tried to not trip over her own feet, Minju’s presence weighing so heavily on the disk of her existence that she felt like the world was about to tip over from a single miniscule interaction. Minju furrowed her brows in askance and Yuri felt like she was about to choke on air,

“I… pleasejustcheckyourkatalk.”

She gulped and resolutely looked anywhere but Minju, who produced a confused hum and took her phone out.

Yuri hadn’t finished preparing herself for a reaction when Minju dead stopped in her tracks. She halted in her steps, torn between stopping and walking ahead to avoid devastation should Minju not like it, what she had sent, but then footsteps neared in and a familiar weight of an arm flung around her shoulders.

The sun shone a little more genuinely at her.

“How did you get it?”

Minju’s question was soft like it was meant to be heard only by the two of them; it was probably the first direct interaction she offered to Yuri since that night in that cursed café, outside of brief glances and factory default smiles.

She feigned a nonchalant shrug, trying to throw Minju’s arm off herself. “Just happened to come across it,”

Minju didn’t remove her hand from around Yuri’s shoulders. “You’re a liar,” she said lightly, totally referring to the two tickets to an ice-skating rink she had been wanting to go to. It had been fully booked for days; none of them was patient enough to queue up for tickets a week and some odd days in advance, so they put off the plan to visit it over and over again.

That’s what Yuri got for her and ‘just happened to come across it’  was an obvious lie. It wasn’t even a good lie, and Minju was calling her out on that.

But a small part of Yuri internalized that remark with the cold shoulder of that night anyway, taking the words in with a slight shrink to her footing because yeah…

She was a liar after all.

(As expected, her shadow was too massive to be banished by a candle of two measly tickets.)

 

 

…………

 

 

“It’s not measly,” Junho told her a few days later, the two of them walking along the cobblestone path leading up to the main library. He looked at her and smiled in that gentle way of his, like Yuri’s problem was only in her mind and everything was going to be okay. “I mean, from what you’ve said, she’s been looking forward to it. I know trying to gun for that rink’s tickets is a pain especially for weekends—it’s not measly in her eyes. I’m sure of it.”

Yuri rolled her shoulders in a shrug. “She only accepted it because she’s her.”  Junho blinked at her and she blinked back, belatedly elaborating because she then realized that Junho didn’t know Minju as well as she did. “Min is… too kind… Too kind for her own good.”

She probably had seen Yuri’s agony and decided to grant forgiveness like the Mother Theresa she occasionally was.

“Right,” Junho nodded seriously, tilted his head, and hummed to himself. Yuri half-expected him to bring up Yunseong and the way he’d always apologize to Suyun first regardless of whether or not he was actually in the wrong.

(‘Isn’t that just what people do when they’re in love?’  a small voice inside her head mused. But Yuri knew a thing or two about unrequited love and Junho’s knees were deep in it enough, so she left the remark unsaid.)

Instead Junho asked, “Which day are the tickets for?”

It took Yuri a moment to remember what topic they were on. “Sunday next week…?” She blinked at him. “Why’d you ask?” If she hadn’t known that Junho was hopelessly after Yunseong’s oblivious , she would have wondered—worried?—if he’d been thinking of being Minju’s date to the ice-skating rink.

Junho looked like he was seriously considering telling her for a second, but then just smiled. “Just wanna make sure I don’t drag you out into some pity party that day.”

Yuri blinked again. “The tickets are for Minju and whoever she’d want to invite,” she stated slowly, like it was obvious.

(Because it was. Wasn’t it?)

Junho just laughed, the matter dropped as they arrived at their designated corner.

 

 

…………

 

 

On Tuesday, Minju showed up at Yuri’s door to fetch the tickets before Yuri could do something stupid like forgetting it somewhere obscure or accidentally scooping it into the trash bag while sweeping around her room in a pitiful attempt at cleaning.

“Will you ever let me live that down?”

Minju grinned, said “No,” and shouldered her way into Yuri’s room like it was second nature. Yuri considered kicking her out but realized Minju was taller and could tackle then roll her out of her own place if she wanted to, so she grumbled under her breath and closed the door.

“I spy some dust near your windowsill,”

“I will push you out of my windowsill.”

It didn’t come out as threatening as it should, causing Minju to snicker and Yuri to huff. She led Minju towards her bed with as much grace as someone trying to herd fifty hungry sheep into a grassless side alone—except Minju wasn’t hungry and only in the mood to tease, which was arguably a lot worse.

“What did you do before coming?” Yuri asked after she successfully forced Minju to sit down. She shuffled towards the table covered with crumpled papers and a hamster plushie Yuri decided to plop onto it to make the sight a little less of an eyesore. “You said you’d be here at two. It’s four now.” She swept the crumpled papers aside and tried to spot two tickets amidst the mess.

“Sorry.” She didn’t need to look over to hear the small smile in Minju’s tone. “Hitomi dragged me into looking for a birthday gift for Chaewon-unnie.”

Yuri involuntarily paused at that, but the dull throb in her heart wasn’t enough to prevent a second from ticking.

Her thoughts restarted. “You’re both indecisive.” She heard herself say, limbs in motion again. “Nako would be a better choice.”

“You think anyone else is a better choice,” Minju said, sounding slightly miffed. Yuri shrugged and continued searching for the tickets, pulling the untouched drawer under the table open. “Nako’s out gaming with her Japanese friends.”

“Can’t believe she has friends other than us,”

“She’d known them way longer than she knew us.” Minju pointed out, which was fair. Yuri silently cheered when she spotted the yellow edges of tickets poking out from under a stack of unused sticky notes, reaching out to retrieve the runaway brats from inside the drawer.

“I only know you, though.”

Minju said next and the imaginary cheer in Yuri’s head bowed out. She turned to face her, blinking, almost dazed from the odd heaviness she had heard in Minju’s tone,

“What?”

Minju shrugged, smiling. “Just saying,” she said, heaviness suddenly absent. “I only know you. Did you find the tickets?”

Yuri wondered if she had just imagined it—the strange weight. Minju’s smile didn’t give away anything so she nodded, rising and ambling towards her bed.

“…You’re popular,” she started, unsure of why she started saying that, “you could’ve easily found enough friends to fill out an entire stadium.” She held out the two tickets and Minju didn’t immediately take them.

“You’ve been hanging out with Junho lately,” Minju said.

“What’s that gotta do with—”

“Just don’t forget us, okay?”

Minju smiled up at her, tickets untouched and eyes forest warm. Yuri felt a tug—an urge—to try parting the dense green crowns of the woods to find out what else was there other than the filtering sunlight.

But Minju glanced down at the tickets and plucked one out of her hand.

Yuri blinked.

“I told you, both tickets are for you,” she stressed, “so you could bring someone along.”

Like a date.

The thought remained as a thought; she didn’t have the heart to say it because it felt wrong to bring that topic up with Minju, especially when they never breathed such a thing when they were alone in each other’s presence.

It felt… off-limits, somehow.

“And I told you I only know you,” Minju repeated for the third time that day, as though it should have answered everything.

Yuri’s brows furrowed and she wondered if she was supposed to feel a little like an idiot.

Minju nodded to the single ticket still within Yuri’s hold, “I hope you’re free on Sunday.”

‘Just wanna make sure I don’t drag you out into some pity party that day,’ Junho’s words rang in Yuri’s ears like a distant prophecy. She made a mental note to yell at him for attempting some shaman , and maybe a thanks for the consideration—except she would then have to bear through Junho boasting a ‘I told you so,’  but… but all that could wait.

Junho could wait.

Yuri swallowed and said, “Sure,” Minju’s eyes brightening in a way that pricked at her chest a little.

She glanced down at the ticket in her hand and then back up at Minju, a remark of ‘this was supposed to be my apology why am I getting half of it too’ almost tumbling out of .

She was saved from that by sounds of rustles and a sigh.

“I should go,” Minju said, pushing herself up and leaving behind a Minju-shaped crater on Yuri’s bed. She stretched a little, and then gave her a smile. “I promised to take over Hii-chan’s tuition slot today since she’s planning something for you-know-who.”

The dull throb came back, but Yuri’s getting better at ignoring it in favour of staring incredulously, “Her slot, like in an hour?” At Minju’s nod she clicked her tongue in a disapproving manner and slapped her shoulder.

“You shouldn’t have dropped by, then. I could’ve brought the tickets to you tomorrow.”

“Ah but then I couldn’t poke fun at your earthy place,”

Yuri rolled her eyes. “You’re stupid.” She grumbled while pushing at her shoulders towards the direction of the door. “You should’ve gone back home and rested instead of salting me like a chef trying to cure a slab of meat for the first time.”

Minju’s laughter filled Yuri’s place in a way that was both familiar and a breath of fresh air. “I still wouldn’t be home, Yul. I’d just shop with Hitomi even longer, trying to figure out which shade of mint is better.”

“You’re too kind for your own good,” Yuri said, half exasperated and perhaps way too fond.

They reached the door and Minju turned around to look at her, Yuri preparing for the goodbyes except the latter then smiled at her, features soft with the mellow lights of sunset falling upon her back from behind.

“I like spending time with you guys.”

(‘This was supposed to be my apology,’  the small voice at the back of Yuri’s mind had said. ‘Why am I getting half of it too?’ )

“I know.” Yuri said, curving up a smile at the same time the pit of her stomach weighed down until it rested at the soles of her feet. “Take care, stupid,” she told her without actually insulting her, knowing that Minju always knew it wasn’t one.

“Don’t lose your ticket,” Minju teased. They both looked down at the ticket still within Yuri’s grasp and Minju’s expression grew thoughtful. “Actually, you know, let me keep it safe for you until—”

“No.” Yuri moved her hand away and hid it behind her back, avoiding Minju’s outstretched fingers. Minju eyed her dubiously and Yuri smiled.

“I want to spend time with you, too.”

(‘This was supposed to be my apology,’  the small voice at the back of Yuri’s mind said. ‘Why am I getting half of it too?’  

‘Because half her wound came from you not spending time with her,’  another voice replied, wiser and sounding way too much like Junho. ‘So maybe, maybe, maybe at the core of it, this is the apology she wants. The apology she would accept.’

A part of her itched to ponder about where the other half of Minju’s wound came from, but she wasn’t ready to go into the woods; she wasn’t ready to unveil anything beyond the ticket in her hold and what it meant.)

Minju beamed at her words and Yuri felt a little lighter, a little more like a plant now than the glum pathetic shadow she once was. She knew Minju took the statement the way it was meant to be: an honest thought, an apology, a promise.

Minju touched her arm for an amplified second, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Yuri replied. The fingers fell along with a nod and Minju turned around, taking long strides away and Yuri, for some reason, chose to stand still and watch her retreating backside.

 

 

…………

 

 

Yuri knew a thing or two about unrequited love.

She knew it was Hell to endure. She knew it was double the Hell (can that even exist?!) to deal with on top of a fast upcoming Math exam and a night of drunk snuggling that had opened up too much cans of worms Junho wasn’t equipped enough to handle in timely manner—

 

(‘You what?!’

Junho groaned, sounds of papers shuffling frantically trickling through from the other end. ‘It was an accident! I did nothing! The snuggling wasn’t my idea! …Are you good at Math?’

‘No,’  Yuri breathed out. She sent an email to her group members telling them that she would just do her part of the presentation at home and closed her laptop.

‘…I’ll be there in ten.’ )

 

Junho shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the tip of his ears turning red and his gaze resolutely kept to the mug he was slowly spinning between his palms. His math notes sat untouched to his left because Yuri was never stellar at the subject and Junho wasn’t in the right frame of mind to tackle double integrals, not when he looked like he’d rather be tackled to the ground by Death himself.

“So you snuggled You-Know-Who.”

“He snuggled me,” Junho hissed in a voice closer to a squeak. It was the first she had ever heard of him; she didn’t know if she should be impressed or concerned. “It was—they had a fight. He wouldn’t tell why, just showed up drunk and…” Junho gestured helplessly, figuring the vague hand-waving was enough of an explanation.

It wasn’t. Yuri had no clue on what he was trying to say, but told him, “I’m so sorry.”

Junho flushed, ducked his head and took a sip of his hot chocolate. Yuri just stared at him for a long moment, at the distressed lines on his face and the way his eyebags looked too pronounced to solely be caused by Math.

“I don’t know if I—”

“You’re not over him yet. Are you?”

They spoke almost at the same time, Junho pausing halfway and eyes widening at Yuri’s question. That was enough of an answer, the look on Junho’s face akin to a deer caught in headlights. She felt a little guilty because talking to Junho had helped her somewhat get over Hitomi, the weight of feelings slowing down and dissipating little by little until only a dull throb remained every now and then.

But Junho was still in the same place, and Yuri wondered for a brief second if the help was one-sided, if she had only been taking and not giving.

“To be fair,” Junho said, his voice small and hesitant like he’s admitting a sin, “I didn’t try that hard.”

He looked a little like he expected Yuri to yell. But she didn’t. Instead, Yuri reached out and grabbed Junho’s mug, pulling it towards herself.

“Did he do anything?”

Junho sputtered, eyes glancing back and forth from Yuri’s steady gaze. “It’s… no he… I don’t know. God… I don’t know? He just…” Junho exhaled and gripped at the edges of the tabletop.

Yuri waited patiently, taking a sip of Junho’s chocolate. She would have been strangled to death if it was Nako, but Junho just stared at her and said, “He did that too.”

Yuri suddenly regretted ever swallowing a gulp. “I’m sorry, did I just hear you comparing me to the—”

“No…! No no, God no, there’s no comparing. It’s just… he took a sip of my drink too. Last night. You just reminded me of him is all.” Then more quietly, “Everything reminds me of him, is all.”

“That’s gay,” Yuri said, feigning disdain. Junho just deflated into himself and Yuri felt herself soften. “Hey. It’s okay. Probably.” She pushed his mug towards him, watched as he only stared at it. A thought came to her and she felt it around her tongue, trying to weigh whether to say it or not.

“You don’t have to let go if you don’t want to, you know?”

Junho’s gaze flicked up.

Yuri had never had someone to talk about Hitomi before, not when her feelings were at their worst and she felt a lot like a kicked puppy in a composed shepherd clothing. She didn’t know if she ever had that look she saw on Junho’s face right now—the look of a lost, vulnerable soul. Torn between feeling happy or nursing despair.

(She probably did.)

“He—has a girlfriend.”

Junho said, sounding more like he was reminding himself.

“Dude, I know. I’m not trying to encourage you to be a homewrecker or something.” Junho choked at that and Yuri’s lips curled up into a smile. “I’m just saying—you’re entitled to your own feelings. If you still want to—like him… then that’s fine. You just have to bear everything that comes with it, the hurt, the helplessness, the guilt…”

“But you stopped,” Junho said, certainty absent. He sounded unsure, like part of himself was wishing for Yuri to tell him to move on while the other part wanted Yuri to keep telling him that it’s okay. Yuri heard the unspoken question ‘shouldn’t I, too?’  and took a deep breath.

“Not everyone follows the same path.” Yuri started. Her thoughts briefly flickered over to Hitomi and Chaewon, and how they just looked so happy, so content, so in love. She realized she would never dare to come between that.

She couldn’t bring herself to fiddle around when all she could offer was something less.

“I know I’m better off a friend,” she quietly confessed. She didn’t feel like a liar this time around.

“But…”

“Was it nice?” Yuri asked, switching topic. “The snuggling.”

Junho flushed again, but he pursed his lips and visibly gave it a thought. “It was… soft?” Yuri nodded encouragingly, thinking of the time Nako draped half her weight on her from behind during one of their sleepovers. You were doing it wrong if snuggling felt anything but soft.

“He said it comforted him. Being with me. I mean it’s probably the alcohol, but…” Junho swallowed, voice growing quieter. “…I woke up to him still asleep on me and, he… He just looked so peaceful. You know?”

For some reason, Yuri thought of Minju.

Minju with her head resting on Yuri’s shoulder, Minju with a distant memory of High School Musical marathon and a blanket shared between them. Minju dozing off when the credits rolled down, Yuri’s left arm going numb under the other’s weight and right arm a touch away from cramping because she tried to quietly clear off the bed without waking her up.

“Yeah,” she heard herself say. “Some people do that. Looking unfairly angelic when they’re sleeping.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Junho’s face. “She’s just the same, huh?”

Junho thought she was talking about Hitomi. Yuri didn’t correct him. She took a deep breath instead, looking at him seriously, “Listen, I just think…”

And she trailed off for a moment, searching for words that could convey her thought best.

“I just think… that holding onto a feeling isn’t inherently bad. You know, some love stories relied on one of the pining characters not giving up. It could be your road, or it could be not… I just know it isn’t mine but doesn’t mean it’s not yours either.”

Junho furrowed his brows, touching his mug with the watery chocolate possibly growing cold. Had the weather been cold?

But then a tentative smile crossed Junho’s lips and Yuri felt a bit warm.

“Thanks,” he genuinely said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Just don’t be a homewrecker.” Yuri said, not meaning it. She knew Junho wasn’t that type of person, knew he valued Yunseong’s happiness over his own like Yuri used to with Hitomi.

(Then she found out along the way that they could both be happy if Yuri would just let go and learn to value herself, too.)

“So.” Junho cleared his throat, taking a long sip from his maybe no longer hot chocolate. He tilted his head, then asked with an oddly meaningful glint to his eyes.

“Are you ready for Sunday?”

 

 

…………

 

 

Yuri wasn’t ready for Sunday.

She should have expected this, in hindsight. Minju was at turning, at stopping, at controlling her speed. All she could do was skating in a vaguely straight line while Yuri wobbled pathetically on her feet, hands gripping on the rails and heart praying endlessly ‘don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall— ’

It shouldn’t have surprised her that Minju inevitably knocked onto her in a vain attempt at braking her worryingly accelerating speed and they both fell,  limbs tangled onto the ground.

“I can’t believe,” Yuri gasped while Minju reached up to grab onto the rails, “that you were looking forward to this.” She accepted Minju’s outstretched hand and tried to command her legs to obey her brain for once, painstakingly clambering up from the ground with Minju’s hand as her anchor.

Minju’s laughter rang warmly amidst the cold of ice beneath their feet. “This is one of those places where you think less and feel more, Yul.”

“I almost died, ” Yuri pointed out, a tad dramatically even for herself, the kind of dramatic she only dabbled in when she was around Minju. “I was this close to be entirely incapable of feeling—”

“I’ll follow you if you did,” Minju lightly interrupted. Yuri grabbed a hold of the rails, shaking their entwined hands to signal Minju that it’s okay to let go. Minju slowly did, mirroring Yuri’s position, grabbing the rails and standing still.

Yuri scoffed. “We’re not in a Shakespearian fanfic,” she said, throwing her gaze towards the centre of the rink where show-off people were doing all sorts of stunts Yuri wouldn’t ever attempt, even in her dreams. “There’s no need for second coming of Romeo and Juliet. Just avenge my death or something,”

“By melting all the ice in this rink down?”

“…That works, sure. Why not?”

Minju snorted. She shifted so that she was facing the rink again, then let go of the rails, hands falling onto her hips. “Well, I’m personally ready to challenge the world again.”

“The world isn’t skating on ice, it’s just you.” Yuri shot back, smiling as she did so because it was hard not to when Minju stood there, glowing.  “Good luck. I’m staying with my rails, thank you very much.”

“I’ll come back to drag you for a round later,” Minju unnecessarily promised.

“Try to not crash onto me this time.” Yuri warned, expecting Minju to whine or groan at her for that.

But Minju just sent her a cheeky smile, a smile that was warm amidst the cold of ice beneath Yuri’s feet. She gave Yuri a wave then set off, slowly with a push of hands against the rails before her legs started to move, hips swaying back and forth, her back coming off adorably stiff from behind. Yuri wondered if Minju was still smiling, if the people she passed by got to see that warm smile, too, soft sunlight beaming over a cold land.

Maybe Minju’s face was made for smiling, Yuri thought, unblinking as she watched Minju go.

 

 

…………

 

 

Yuri was sitting alone at the courtyard when a weight dropped heavily next to her and Junho said in almost a whisper, “They broke up.”

Yuri blinked, turned to face him. “Oh?”

Junho’s face was conflicted, eyes averting away for a second before he resolutely looked at Yuri again. “He invited me for dinner tomorrow.”

Yuri blinked again, taking in the information more slowly this time. “Oh.” She tilted her head, raising her eyebrows. “He asked you out?”

The careful mask cracked a little, Junho’s lips twisting halfway between a frown and a smile. It was an odd sight.

“I don’t know,” he said, fingers carding through his hair. “I don’t think—I’m not counting on it to mean that much… I’ll just think of it as a friendly hang-out or something.”

Yuri hummed, pocketing her phone. She gave him a smile because Junho seemed to need it, fingers jittery and words quieter than usual, as though speaking them any louder would break a spell.

“I won’t go ‘that’s great’ because it’s an insensitive thing to say when someone’s going through a break-up.” Yuri started, earning a small smile that flickered past Junho’s face for a beat. She considered that a win.

She added, “Good luck on your road, though. No matter where it ends up.”

She didn’t voice out her thought on how Junho would probably not mind where it ended up, as long as he got to walk down the path with Yunseong one way or another. Junho nodded slowly, actually smiling this time—it was thin and hesitant, but Yuri took it anyway.

(She fleetingly thought of Minju’s smile last Sunday, the mischievous glint in her eyes giving her smile a little something when she actually came back and pulled Yuri into a slow circle around the rink as promised, fingers easily slotting between Yuri’s own.)

“To be fair… I think they promised to stay friends,” Junho murmured. “I don’t know how that works—or if they’d… end up getting back together, or something.”

“As a hypocrite once said,” Yuri gently interrupted, “if you really wanted it, hold onto it more firmly. You can pick up a spilled drink…”

“But it won’t be the same.” Junho finished, smile widening into an amused grin.

 

(‘Couples, now’s the time for you to latch onto your partner and enjoy a romantic skate around the rink! ’

Yuri looked up at the slow, sunshine-and-roses kind of tune playing over the loudspeaker. Their fingers were interlocked and they had almost finished the round, ‘We should probably go.’

Minju squeezed her hand. ‘Sure,’  the soft answer almost drowned out by the excited chatter of a couple passing by. ‘We have a morning class tomorrow, after all.’ )

 

“I guess I’ll give it a shot,” she distantly heard Junho say. “And, well, maybe pray that we could forget this whole thing if something goes wrong. Pray that he’d be willing to forget it if something goes wrong—”

 

(‘Thank you.’

Minju said, smile soft and eyes warm with a twinkle that might explain the hiding stars overhead. ‘For the tickets. For actually coming. I know you aren’t too fond of skating—’

‘I only almost died once, no big deal,’ Yuri cut in. Her hands found their way to the strap of her bag and stayed there because they would have reached to hold Minju’s otherwise. ‘I had fun, too. Even with the health hazard.’

Minju’s smile, as if it had been possible, widened considerably. ‘Will you remember tonight?’

‘Of course.’

It was hard to not be sure, when Minju’s eyes were sparkling and Yuri felt lighter than she had been in a long time.

‘That’s a relief,’  Minju said, and she looked like some kind of an ethereal being with the pale yellowish light of the lamppost silhouetting half of her, the sight almost a museum-worthy painting. ‘Don’t forget me, okay?’  Minju smiled, with a glint of something in her eyes, the glint of something that might have been a clue to the other half of her wound Yuri had studiously tried to not think about.

Yuri swallowed, smiled, and said with the pounding of her heart a little louder than what she could usually ignore:

‘How can I ever forget you?’ )

 

“Yuri?”

She blinked, found herself sitting next to Junho at the courtyard again. He was watching her intently, the lines on his face concerned and curious.

“Are you okay? Did you stay up for literature again?”

“Junho,” she said. Her heart started pounding in a pace that reminded her of Sunday night and the fingers that were slotted warmly in hers.

“I think I’m falling for one of my friends again.”

The sentence slipped out of her in almost a breath, and it surprised herself more than Junho. Junho’s expression cleared up but he didn’t look shocked, face growing thoughtful as he placed one comforting hand on her shoulder. Which was fair, considering the life-ruining sentence Yuri had just doomed herself with.

Yuri knew a thing or two about unrequited love towards one’s friend, and she wasn’t ready—would probably never be ready, to go through it all over again for the second time.

“It’s okay.” Junho reassured, perhaps sensing Yuri’s building despair. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Yuri wasn’t sure it would, but she swallowed and nodded, curving up a weak smile when Junho started to talk about a new online game that started to be popular among his major. She accepted the change of topic, listened to his attempt at explaining the rules of Fall Guys—and tried to push the revelation to the very back of her mind.

 

 

…………

 

 

And of course, she couldn’t push it to the very back of her mind—not without either throwing herself into assignments or working her off in the gym until she came home, too tired to do anything but sleep.

She was never a health freak, so naturally she did the first option. She made sure to have access to her notes wherever she was, whether it was another hotspot hunts with the girls or a hang-out session with Junho. When no one was available to hang out, she resided in the library to—

“Yuri? Are you okay?” Hitomi appeared in her view with concerned expression, Nako in tow. The scratching of pen upon papers paused.

“We were supposed to meet by the gate 30 minutes ago. Remember?”

Yuri blearily looked up from her notes, blinking at Hitomi. She furrowed her brows and glanced at the library clock. “Oh, .”

“How many hours have you been here?” Hitomi gently asked, ignoring the indirect admittance that Yuri did forget about them and the promise to hang out after lunch.

Yuri didn’t deserve this friendship.

“We tried to call your phone, but you didn’t pick up.”

The big words she’d just read from the thick book occupying the left side of her notes were jamming the flow of thoughts to her brain, clearly, because she then executed a pitiful attempt at finding her phone by patting every single possible place with her right hand, except—

“You’re holding it in your left,” Nako said, sounding more sympathetic than amused.

Yuri’s gaze fell onto her left hand—which had not felt like a part of herself just a moment ago—and sure enough, there her phone was. A click of a button and the screen lit up, showing no less than fifteen miscalls and a few dozens of message notifications, glaring at her for ignoring them hours on end.

Yuri felt dread washing over her tired bones and mumbled, “Oh no.”

“Yuri,” Hitomi called again. She felt a pair of hands cradle her cheeks, tilting her face so she would meet Hitomi’s gaze. “You’re working too hard,” she told her, eyes searching, reprimanding. “Didn’t we tell you to take a rest? You guys yelled at me when I didn’t rest. You yelled at me when I studied too hard.”

But Hitomi didn’t understand. This was different.

Yuri wasn’t studying too hard; she didn’t study enough. Choosing to study had made her look into her grades, what she had done for the first half of the semester, and there was a start of shame at the pit of her stomach because no, this wasn’t enough, she hadn’t done enough. So she studied and took notes and underlined the dates for the upcoming tests, putting reminders in her phone, trying to finally do enough.

Because Yuri lied awake at night and thoughts of Minju came into focus. Minju who had her grades mostly under control, Minju who could have enough friends to fill an entire stadium if she wanted to… instead of settling for a Sunday night on ice with Yuri who wasn’t good enough at skating—wasn’t good enough at anything, really—

As if on cue, as if her life were a circus, Minju’s voice materialized a few feet away from them.

“God, Yul.”

Yuri shifted, Hitomi’s palms falling away from her face as the latter stepped back. Minju filled the vacant space in instant, stepping into Yuri’s sight, the slight disarray of her hair making Yuri absently wonder if she had been running.

Minju brought her hands up with an exhale. She cupped Yuri’s cheeks, mirroring Hitomi’s earlier motion except this time, Yuri’s heart fluttered pathetically inside her chest.

“You haven’t been getting enough rest,” Minju said, sounding a little out of breath. “Why… haven’t you, hmm? I’m taking you home and making you sleep. What, are you planning to drop dead in the library or something?”

Nako had already moved to pack Yuri’s notes up, Hitomi nodding in agreement behind Minju. Minju stayed still, holding Yuri’s gaze, eyes glinting with concern that made Yuri’s shoulders grow heavy.

She felt close up. “I have exams next week.”

“We all  have exams next week,” Minju reminded her, thumbs caressing the skin under Yuri’s eyes. Yuri kind of wanted to melt into it, except she didn’t think she’d be able to get back up if she did. “We’ll study together when you’re better. With decent breaks and sanity intact, okay?”

The sound of a bag being zipped would have made her look over any other day, but she didn’t have the energy to break free from Minju’s soothing hold now, even though it made her heart ache.

“I’ll bring this for her.” Nako said, clearly referring to Yuri’s bag.

“I’ll buy some food.” Hitomi added in. “Chaewon-unnie will accompany me, her class just got cancelled today. Meet you guys at Yuri’s place later?”

“Stop talking like I’m not here.” Yuri croaked, angling her head a little to give the other two a glare. Minju followed her movement, not removing her hands from Yuri’s cheeks. “And I can’t go home without my purse, Nako, what the Hell—”

“I’m taking you home,” Minju repeated, compelling Yuri to look back up at her. Minju gave her an exasperated smile, fingers falling away—Yuri held back the whimper that wanted to tumble out of at the loss of warmth—but Minju did make a point to pinch Yuri’s nose, eyes achingly gentle as she reaffirmed.

“I’m taking you home, so don’t worry about bus tickets. Okay?”

Yuri closed her eyes, lips parting to release a sigh. This felt dangerous, should be dangerous, but she was exhausted and her head hurt and what’s a day staying close to Minju gonna do?

(She survived Hitomi. She should be able to survive this.)

So, she nodded and pulled her phone towards herself. She unlocked the screen and saw a notification from Junho, wincing at the red 8 signifying the amount of unread messages. She vaguely remembered Junho expressing worry at her attempt of avoiding the elephant in her chest and her brisk answer of ‘I’m okay. Don’t worry. How was your date? ’

“Give me a second,” Yuri said, looking up to flash Minju a weak, apologetic smile. “I need to message Junho real quick.”

Her words changed something in Minju’s expression, but she wasn’t sure what.

She was already looking down when the slight shift belatedly registered into her mind. A part of her wanted to look up, to check, but a greater part of her was still winded from this entire thing about realizing her feelings for Minju.

So she didn’t look up, focusing instead to type a reply for Junho.

(‘My friends are dragging my out, so don’t worry, will backread later, take care don’t do anything stupid—’)

The message was sent. She waited for a few seconds before she finally looked up again.

Minju smiled at her, the shift of expression that pricked at Yuri’s mind earlier nowhere to be found.

“Done?”

Yuri nodded. There was nothing out of place in Minju’s smile, her outstretched hand still as light and warm when she took it.

“Why’d you have to push yourself like this,” Minju chided her. Yuri produced a mum, not answering, only pocketing her phone and letting Minju pull her up to her feet. “The only other time you did the same thing was when…”

“It’s not like that.” Yuri finally said. Lied, because she knew what Minju was referring to, knew she was talking about that one time Yuri signed up and attended two months worth of seminars because running herself to the ground was better than having to sit there and watch Chaewon finally court Hitomi.

“My grades are ,” she added, opting for something not entirely wrong.

Minju was silent for a moment, hand moving to interlace her fingers with Yuri’s, pulling her into a walk. A bout of tingles erupted across Yuri’s palm, travelling fast until it reached her chest.

“Your self-care is .” Minju said, probably meaning it as an insult but failing at it because she sounded too caring.

“I mean, fair.” Yuri amended, willing the fluster to not bleed into her voice and feeling relieved when it actually didn’t. “…Oh. By the way. My key is in my bag.”

“That’s fine. Nako will arrive faster than us.”

“She won’t if she suddenly thought of wanting mint choco ice cream.”

Minju snorted, lightly squeezing Yuri’s hand. Yuri thanked herself for not tripping over her own feet. “Then we’ll just have to wait.” Minju said, glancing at her. “Not the worst fate there is, isn’t it?”

‘No,’  the small voice in the back of Yuri’s mind answered.

“Debatable.” was what she ended up saying. Because that was what she would have said if she didn’t have feelings for Minju and they were still a pair of best friends that had gone through high school together and ended up entering the same university, the same major, sticking with each other up until now.

“Prat.” Minju accused. But she didn’t sound mad, and Yuri felt a little more secure on her footing.

 

Yuri knew a thing or two about unrequited love for one’s best friend.

But not when it’s Minju, who she couldn’t avoid nor distance herself from without feeling like she was losing a part of herself in the process. Not when it’s Minju, who didn’t have someone she was courting or was courting her that could be the reason for Yuri to give up like she did with Hitomi. Not when it’s Minju, whose smile was sunshine and perfume smelling like gentle roses; two things Yuri would have hated intensely except she could never bring herself to hate anything about Minju, not even her tendency to break off noodles before boiling them—which was a punishable offense in Nako’s eyes.

(‘It’s okay,’  Junho said, almost willing it. Pleading for it on Yuri’s behalf. ‘It’s gonna be okay.’)

 

The sky was still bright when they exited the building, Junho's words repeating in Yuri's ears like a mantra. 'It's gonna be okay,' he had said... but Yuri was no longer sure what amounted to okay. Maybe this—walking next to Minju and keeping her unspoken feelings from bursting—was her okay. Because avoiding Minju felt like depriving herself of air, even though breathing it hurt.

Maybe this was already her okay, staying like this, even though her heart longed for something more.

The walk to the bus station was a long, long one, and Minju never let go of Yuri’s hand.

Yuri, selfishly, didn’t, either.

 

 

…………

 

 

Minju was the sun.

Sometimes, when Yuri ed up (and she did plenty though Minju never referred to it as -ups), she felt like a shadow slinking across the ground, hoping to not be noticed. Other times (or maybe all the time) she felt like a plant that obediently turned to whichever direction Minju was shining, hoping to see that brilliant beam for herself—and maybe deluding her heart into thinking one of those beams was meant exclusively for her.

Except she hadn’t known which way to turn for days now, because the sun had gone into hiding somehow.

Right after the onslaught of exams Yuri was worrying about had passed, so did Minju. She left, nearly nowhere to be found, taking with her a special brand of warmth Yuri always itched to lean into.

“I don’t know.” Hitomi said when they met up at the courtyard. Chaewon tagged along, bringing a box of macarons she swore she didn’t make herself. “I think she just… has a lot to deal with in the lab?”

“Okay.” Yuri said, accepting the offered orange macaron.

Hitomi’s answer made sense. Minju was an exceptional student; absolutely no one was surprised when the physics professor ended up offering a research participation for her, which she took despite it not being her major. Though, it had never made her so busy before—

“I think the research is on a hectic stage.” Nako chimed in, munching on her own macaron. Yuri spent a second wondering if her line of thoughts was that obvious. Nako continued in-between her chews, “It’s pretty hectic last time I asked her. Like—testing samples and running calculations kind of hectic. They were stuck on preparation for a long time, which was nothing compared to what they should do now.”

“Okay,” Yuri repeated, feeling a little like a broken record. Minju didn’t tell her that, which was fair because she wasn’t obligated to tell Yuri every single aspect of her life… but she used to.

The thought made Yuri’s chest squeeze for a moment, and she took a bite out of the store-bought macaron a little forcefully.

“I’m sure she’s okay,” Chaewon offered. Yuri looked at her and didn’t find the slight throb her heart usually gave out—she would have marvelled a bit about it if she weren’t so stressed about Minju’s whereabouts. “Lab assistants usually kicked people out by 8 pm, if you really needed to meet her.”

Chaewon smiled knowingly, and Yuri felt torn between wanting to hug Hitomi for getting a useful girlfriend or feign indifference because Jo Yuri was anything but desperate.

“Right.” she said instead, shoving the rest of the macaron inside . Chaewon’s smile only widened.

Yuri looked away.

 

 

…………

 

 

Yuri wasn’t desperate, which was why she waited patiently in front of the door to the experimental nuclear physics lab instead of bursting through it like a determined Disney villain.

Chaewon wasn’t entirely right; lab assistants definitely couldn’t kick final year students, and the ones with permission slips from their lecturers could stay the night to make sure things were taken care of the way they should. But to her credit, Minju was neither of them, which meant she was the one swinging the door swinging open at 8.05 pm, ready to walk out and almost crashing onto Yuri despite the iceless ground.

“Oh,” Minju mumbled, steps halting and eyes clouding up at the sight of Yuri. That hurt, but the next second was immediately filled with—

“Oh! ” A bright, yet masculine voice chimed, head poking up from behind Minju. A pair of eyes peered at Yuri behind strands of brown hair falling neatly over one’s forehead. “Minju’s friend?”

Minju blinked slowly, as though trying to register Yuri’s presence in front of her. Yuri tried not to dwell on the unreadable look painted across Minju’s face and smiled,

“Hello. Sorry for showing up announced, but I—”

“Will walk her home?” the other offered, giving Minju a gentle push that had Yuri stepping aside and Minju stumbling forward. Yuri reached out to hold Minju’s elbow, unnecessarily keeping her steady, but Minju didn’t seem to notice it in favour of glaring at the now beaming male—who just smiled. “She hasn’t been feeling well today, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Chani.” Minju warned. The male—Chani—never stopped smiling, unfazed by Minju’s glare.

“We told her to take a break but she was adamant that the poor lost particles needed her.” He laughed lightly, like it was an inside joke told repeatedly between themselves. “But—I can handle her part just fine, and she had been too diligent this week. So please ban her from coming here tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Yuri replied, causing Minju to glance at her. She let go of Minju’s elbow, feeling inadequate to hold it all of a sudden. “Thank you—uh, Chani-ssi. For offering to handle her part.”

Chani’s smile was directed to her now, and Yuri absently thought on how he’s a little sunnier than Junho but a smidge dimmer than a certain someone. A certain someone who just made a strangled noise before rubbing at her temples, relenting to the offer because Minju then told Chani what part she was at with the subject of their research, pulling his attention back to herself.

Yuri stepped back, leaving her to it. She didn’t dare to take her eyes away from them because Minju might suddenly disappear, but then Chani said something that had the both of them glancing at Yuri—and she felt a little like Chani wouldn’t allow that to happen, somehow.

“You don’t have to come.”

Minju lowly said, having bid goodbye to Chani and coming to Yuri’s side. She sounded tired, shoulders drooping like her bag was heavier than usual. A part of Yuri wanted to hug her. Another part of her wondered if she had the right to, if Minju would allow her considering she had practically avoided Yuri for some time.

Minju sneezed.

“You catching a cold?” Yuri asked. Minju shook her head, slightly turning away and not saying anything. “Your friend said you haven’t been feeling well.”

(‘I only know you, though,’  Minju’s voice rang inside her ears.)

Minju muffled a sniffle behind the back of her hand. “I’m okay,” she heaved out, angling her head in a manner so that she was vaguely glancing at Yuri’s ear instead of eyes. “I can get home by myself.”

“Your friend told me to walk you home.”

“He assumed.” Minju corrected. Semantics. “And who would want to walk? It’s the era of buses. I don’t want my legs to fall off.” It comforted Yuri a little to know that Minju was still dramatic under the cloudy gaze and the smell of physics lab latching onto her attire.

“I don’t mind walking for hours with you.” Yuri quietly said. She didn’t know why she say that, only that she wanted to. The statement made Minju’s head turn towards her only for the gesture to halt with a wince afterwards, perhaps from the headache the jerking motion had caused, and Yuri felt a touch away from asking her what was all the avoiding for.

But she only breathed out, “It’s been a while, after all. Us, together like this.”

Minju sighed. “…I’ve been busy.” she mumbled, whispered into the night and Yuri thought she could hear a ghost of apology if she listened hard enough.

“We don’t have any class tomorrow,” Yuri said. “And you just got your lab schedule cleared up, so I’m staying over.”

“I didn’t invite you.” Minju weakly interjected. But there was no outright refusal to back it up, so Yuri took it as a yes and a knot inside her stomach quietly unwound.

They walked like that, in silence, until they passed by the gazebo near the gate.

Minju stopped in her tracks, Yuri belatedly pausing along.

“Min?”

“Junho’s there.”

Yuri blinked, her gaze following Minju’s line of sight. True enough, Junho was there at the gazebo, with Yunseong and a few of other people Yuri didn’t recognize. She furrowed her brows and wondered why it made Minju stop, but…

“Aren’t you going to go to him?”

Minju’s question was quiet. The hold around the strap of her bag visibly tightened, her expression resigned, and these two things made Yuri feel a little like the ground was heaving beneath her feet.

“You think I should?”

Minju glanced at her, clouds parting to let a glint of vulnerability filter through. It didn’t fade away after a blink, unlike the previous times, and suddenly Yuri felt a little faint.

“I don’t know,” Minju whispered. Yuri had heard herself use that tone a lot, unsure, heartbroken, lost…

She swallowed and looked at Junho, at his arm around Yunseong and the smile on his face a content crescent of the moon.

“Min,” Yuri started, “can I hold hands with the person I like?”

Minju stared at Junho, feet away from them. One of her fists was balled against the strap of her bag, ache leaking through the single syllable breathed out through parted lips.

“Sure.”

 

Yuri knew a thing or two, about unrequited love.

Enough to tell that Junho had been enduring it, fearful jolt and a Microsoft Word window hastily pulled up to hide the sketch of two that he made his wallpaper. Enough to tell that she was having one again, Minju’s touches burning through reality and into her dreams after realizations dawned on her and refused to leave her alone.

Enough to recognize them in Minju’s mannerism, now, memories of brief heaviness and subtle shifts falling into place.

 

Yuri took a deep breath, counting time with her heartbeat. She reached out and took one of Minju’s hands, prying it away from the strap of Minju’s bag.

She held it with a quiet curl of her fingers, the world quieting down save for the thudding heart in her chest.

Minju looked at her for a long moment, gaze indescribable. There’s a furrow to her eyebrows that didn’t clear up even as she said,

“You’re a coward.”

There was a teasing lilt that was almost enough to mask the ache imbued within Minju’s voice. An ache that caused a twinge to Yuri’s heart, too, but she just held her hand tighter and nodded.

“I am.”

She gave Minju’s hand a tug. Minju obliged, no longer rooted to her spot, and they started walking—Yuri’s insides threatening to melt when slender fingers finally moved to tuck themselves into her hold.

 

 

…………

 

 

Stepping into Minju’s place felt like time traveling to the past. Not a far-away past, maybe just a year or so ago, because nothing much had changed since then, from the small pot of succulent Minju kept near her window to the box of snacks poking out from under neatly made bed.

“Have you eaten dinner?” Yuri asked. Minju let out a non-committal sound, head shaking as she slipped out of her outer wear and went towards her wardrobe. “Should we order pizza?”

“I don’t think my stomach is up for pizza…”

“Dakjuk, then. For you. I’ll get myself jjajangmyeon—Grandma Lim’s place is still running, right?”

Minju nodded and Yuri stepped away, dialling a number she hadn’t called in a while to order their dinner. She vaguely heard the sound of a door closing, probably the bathroom, confirmed by the sound of water running a beat later. She spun on her heels and walked towards Minju’s bed, picking up the worn clothes and absently bringing them over to the laundry basket.

(‘Aren’t you going to go to him? ’)

A familiar voice rang through the call. Yuri mentioned her name, and the voice grew friendlier. She smiled as she listed off what they wanted, nodded off to the easy chatter she received. ‘Is waiting for thirty minutes okay, Joyul?’ She glanced at the closed bathroom where Minju was trying to wash away her exhaustion.

“Yes! It’s fine,” she spoke, nodding again even though the other person wouldn’t see. “Please be careful on your way here,” she added, and exchanged goodbyes that would have been unnecessary if this was any other delivery service.

With the order dealt with, Yuri pocketed her phone and looked around. She walked to sit by the edge of Minju’s bed, hands clasped between her thighs as she took in the corkboard plastered over the South wall. There were music sheets Yuri was sitting too far away from to read anything off, as well as a printed-out timetable and a column of pink sticky notes filled out with reminders.

And then there was a ticket.

A ticket was pinned next to the sticky notes, the yellow edges too familiar for Yuri to not recognize on sight. It was the ticket to the ice-skating rink, with three punched holes in the middle a mark of their attendance. Minju had kept it. Had pinned it onto her corkboard, which was supposed to only hold the most important things.

The door to the bathroom opened, Minju stepping out dressed in warm clothes and a towel draped around her neck. Yuri waited until Minju’s gaze fell onto her, a falter in Minju’s movement she then compensated by a small smile and approaching footsteps.

“Are you really staying over?”

“Are you okay?” Yuri asked back, ignoring the question that she considered silly. The bed dipped beneath Minju’s weight, Minju’s eyes still fixated on Yuri. “Your friend said you aren’t feeling well.”

Minju furrowed her brows in response. “Is it just me, or have you been purposefully referring to Chani as my friend?”

Yuri tilted her head, not looking away. She hadn’t seen Minju in what felt like forever—thanks to the latter avoiding her, somehow—so excuse her if she wanted to look longer to catch up on the lost times.

“You said you only know me.” Yuri said, more curious than petty—because that past statement had thrown her off then, and still nagged at the back of her mind now.

The furrow of Minju’s eyebrows deepened. “Were we talking about friends?”

And Yuri thought back to the conversation, feeling certain the topic was friends. Something about Nako being a social butterfly and Minju’s quiet remark later, ‘I only know you, though.’

“What were we talking about if it wasn’t friends, then?”

Yuri asked and watched as Minju’s gaze softened.

She wondered if Minju was replaying the memory in her head, too. If she remembered every second just as clearly as Yuri did. If she had thought about it way too many times, at night and when silence caught up on her without a distraction close by to steal her attention away.

Eyes forest warm, Minju answered, “I don’t know.” She dabbed at the underside of her chin with the towel in hand, eyes averting away then.

“But it’s still true,” Minju added, a little illogically considering they hadn’t agreed on the context of the remark. But she sounded certain, achingly so, when she repeated,

“I only know you.”

There’s a faint buzzing in Yuri’s ears, maybe her inner voice trying to screech at her subconscious, maybe a construction noise from far away in a low frequency she was somewhat unfortunate enough to pick up. Minju shifted like she was about to get up and Yuri’s hand shot up to hold her wrist, gently like a plea to stay but sudden enough that it made Minju turn.

“…Yul?”

The questioning nickname set off a helpless flutter at the pit of Yuri’s stomach, accompanied with a pang that she gained when she looked at the glint of vulnerability in Minju’s eyes.

 

Yuri knew a thing or two about unrequited love.

She knew nothing about a requited one. It might be why it took her so long to recognize the look in Minju’s eyes. Her heartbeat, a traitor through and through, picked its pace up and Yuri felt a little like the world was about to end.

 

“Min,” she heard herself say, “can I kiss the person I like?”

A flicker of hurt crossed Minju’s face, and for a moment Yuri felt so, so horrible. But she stayed still, the question hanging in the air between them, and Minju parted her lips.

“You should ask him.”

“Who?” Yuri prodded, softly, like any harsher and Minju would break.

“Junho?”

A slow, pained nod.

Yuri wanted to chase that pain away.

“It’s not him.” she said, firmly. Minju looked at her and Yuri gave her a small smile, gave her hand a squeeze. “He likes Yunseong and… I like someone else.” She her lips and watched with a bated breath as Minju’s gaze drifted down, following the motion.

“Junho’s like the moon. The girl I like is closer to the sun.”

Minju swallowed and her eyes, eyes forest warm, glinted against the lighting of her room with something akin to unbridled hope. Yuri reached out to part the dense green crowns of the woods and found herself, found her own reflection held preciously in Minju’s eyes.

The realization made her feel weak at the same time it gave her the final push to say,

“So, can I kiss the person I like?”

The hand in Yuri’s hold shifted. Fingers warm out of the bath curled around hers and Minju nodded, wordless, but Yuri had spent years learning to read her beyond spoken words.

(Her cold shoulder, her muted happiness, her odd heaviness, and her unspoken feelings—feelings for Yuri, not someone else, but Yuri.)

With a deep breath and a slow ticking of the clock, Yuri leaned forward, distance shortening and foreheads touching and then she was kissing her.

It was a chaste kiss, a kiss Yuri felt wholly with electricity simmering on her fingertips, on her lips when she pulled away. She kept her forehead rested against Minju’s and Minju blinked at her, a dazed realization dawning on her face as she whispered with a great deal of feelings, “Oh.”

Yuri snorted, hands reaching up to cup Minju’s cheeks. “Yeah,” she said, and agreed. “Oh.”

Minju smiled, leaning into her touch. “I thought…” she whispered, stammered, “I thought I lost you. Again. I thought you were in love with someone else… again.”

How long?  Yuri wondered and swallowed. “I was,” she murmured, admitting the time she had spent looking the other way. Minju only nodded and Yuri stared at her, warm breath brushing across her lips closer than a heartbeat.

“You never said anything to me.”

“You never said anything to Hii-chan, either.”

Oof.

Yuri pretended to be hurt by the remark and Minju’s lips curled into a sunny smile. That was fair, Yuri thought, and she wondered how much had Minju seen, how long had Minju bore everything in, why she had only noticed it recently.

But then Minju leaned in and Yuri met her halfway, their second kiss lasting a little longer, a little more certain now that they were on the same page.

And then Yuri realized the first thing about requited love.

 

The waiting time mattered less when you finally got to reach the part where you held onto that love with both hands. The lessons would still be there, becoming a part of your life, but the wrong steps and missing chances stayed with you less and less.

Because then, something else bigger than them stayed.

Minju stayed.

Minju, who was the embodiment of sunshine and gentle roses. Minju whose smile was not too sunny nor too dim, the sun in her just the right amount of warmth Yuri would gladly burn within.

Minju, who looked away to sneeze at the same time someone rang the bell with their dinner waiting by the door.

Minju, who had waited until Yuri looked at her.

Minju who was ready to step back yet again if Yuri was still looking somewhere else.

Except Yuri was looking, now—and she couldn't look away.

 

“Can we watch something before we sleep?”

Minju asked, taking a spoonful of her dakjuk. Yuri looked up from her jjajangmyeon and thought of her left arm going numb under Minju’s weight, of her right arm a touch away from cramping because it was hard to clear the bed off when Minju was sleeping with half her body draped over Yuri, her sleeping face unfairly angelic.

“Sure,” Yuri said, the answer coming to her way too easily. “But we’re sleeping after one movie.”

Minju’s lips weren’t the only thing warm during their kiss; her forehead was warmer than usual, too, and Yuri needed to make sure that she got enough rest.

(She made a mental note to also make her take paracetamol after their meal. Yuri’s mother had always preached about the benefits of the med, and mothers always knew best.)

Minju blinked at her, nodded, and returned to her dakjuk with a happy hum. Yuri watched her for a moment, recognizing the expression Minju was wearing despite the contented tune. It was her scheming face, which meant that Yuri’s answer didn’t actually satisfy her. She might try to renegotiate the one movie rule after the movie had run its course.

Yuri snorted quietly to herself, shaking her head when Minju perked up and asked her why.

Let's see later, she thought to herself.

 

 

Two hours passed.

No renegotiation happened.

Credits rolled in and Yuri glanced to her right, Minju’s head slotted comfortably into the crook of Yuri’s neck. A soft snore came from the latter, arms draped over Yuri’s mid-section and forehead warmly pressing against Yuri’s chin.

And that was the second thing Yuri learned about requited love:

It didn’t have to change who they were.

She carefully turned the laptop off, movement even more careful because she only had her left hand and her left hand was at following what her brain wanted. She lifted the laptop and strained herself to reach the table next to the bed, placing it atop the wooden surface.

Despite her best efforts, Minju stirred.

“Yul…?”

Yuri reclined back into her previous position, glancing down at Minju’s blinking eyes. She pressed the back of her hand against Minju’s forehead and let out a relieved sigh when her temperature seemed to improve; she wasn’t sickly warm, only exhausted and drowsy.

“Is the movie over…?”

Minju murmured, trying to locate the laptop Yuri had put away with a blind pat of her hand.

“Yes… shhh. Go back to sleep.” Yuri soothed, shifting a little to reach for the cover and tug it over them.

Minju shifted slowly, eyes barely open. “Your arm might hurt tomorrow,” she mumbled. Which meant, ‘I’ll move if you want,’ and Yuri squeezed the arm resting on her stomach.

“I’m fine.” she whispered, swallowing before she took a shot at courage and pressed a gentle kiss to Minju’s forehead.

“…You’re fine. Go to sleep.”

Minju let out a small hum, soft and—happy. She snuggled to Yuri’s side and muttered adorably, “Good night, Yul.”

Yuri smiled, and she felt a little cheesy when she thought of how this felt a lot like—home. Maybe that was what requited love was, at its core: a feeling like coming home.

“Good night, Min.”

She softly whispered, closing her eyes.

Home, at last.

 

 

 

 

END