Shuhua stares at the sleeping figure on the bed. Soojin is so pretty, it hurts. She thinks that it was inevitable that she fell in love.

Shuhua watches peacefully, patiently, like she had all the time in the world. Because she did.

Although it was something that was always fleeting when she was alive, time was not something that mattered in the afterlife. There was an infinite amount of this precious commodity that humans only had a finite amount of. Which could be a good or bad thing. It depended on which day you asked her the question—although the days all seem to bleed into one another at this point. For Shuhua, the concept of what constituted a day had begun to blur a while back. The only thing giving her a grasp onto the concept that was on the verge of being forgotten was Soojin. Soojin waking up. Soojin falling asleep. It was how she willed herself to notice the rise and fall of the sun—because Soojin rose and fell with it. 

She never grew tired of admiring the older girl. The way her red hair splayed across the gray bedsheets in a perfect mess. The way she kept her knees drawn to her chest. The way she hugged the pillow beside her. The way she remained on the left side of the bed. 

Shuhua took the sight all in, as she did every morning until the red-haired girl inevitably woke up. Shuhua didn't entirely enjoy it when that happened—when the peaceful expression dissolved into something Shuhua would describe as the human embodiment of m