Xiening has been thinking about this moment for the past two years. Of seeing Yiyang again as a free woman, without the gulf of not being in the same group separating them, without the restriction of a company that would wring out every drop of lifeblood from them for another cent.

She wonders if Yiyang will go for a hug or a kiss first. Probably a hug, because Yiyang can still get a bit shy, even now. Xiening’s already resigned to the fact that she’ll probably cry and her voice will break, but it’s okay because Yiyang will be there to wrap Xiening up in her arms and wipe away her tears and playfully but fondly. Yiyang will be there, and this time, nothing and no one can tear them apart.

Of all the scenarios Xiening envisioned for their reunion, this was not one of them.

“I’m sorry,” Yiyang repeats, eyes flitting from hers. “I just don’t think it’ll work.”

She had said more than that, something long and apologetic, but Xiening hadn’t been able to take all of it in. She can only linger on the part where Yiyang said that she doesn’t want this anymore, doesn’t want them. Doesn’t want her.

“I love you. I haven’t loved you any less these past two years.” Tears rush into Xiening’s eyes, the way they had during the finale. “I’ve counted down until this day.”

Yiyang won’t meet her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re just going to pretend you never felt anything towards me?”

Yiyang slowly shakes her head. “No, I’m not denying how I felt in the past. I did feel that way too. I loved you, Xiening.”

Loved. Loved. God, a past tense has never hurt so much.

“It’s been two years,” Yiyang says. “We’ve barely even seen each other. You can’t expect that I would have held onto these feelings for so long, right?”

But Xiening did expect that. It’s how she feels about Yiyang, after all. It’s how she thought Yiyang feels about her too. Is she naïve for thinking so? For believing in their love?

“Don’t be like this, Xiening,” Yiyang says softly, and her voice is still gentle if not tender like before. “You’re—you have so much going for you. Don’t be—there’s no need to be so upset.”

Xiening is reduced to silence. What could she say that wouldn’t sound pleading or pathetic? Even now, she can’t conjure any anger toward Yiyang. Yiyang, who always tenderly wiped away her tears. Yiyang, who complained about how much she ate but would secretly sneak food onto her plate. Yiyang, who denied watching Xiening’s interviews but would slip and say a fact revealed in one. Yiyang, who won’t even look at her.

“It’s not like we’re strangers. I’ll always cheer you on,” Yiyang says. “As a friend,” she adds, like pouring salt onto the wound.

“Right,” Xiening says hollowly. “Friends.”

Yiyang opens with a conflicted expression, like she’s about to say something comforting, but then she closes it and looks at a point past Xiening. “Can’t we still be friends?”

Xiening can’t bring herself to do anything more than nod. At this point, she can’t tell what’s worse: having Yiyang in her life only as a friend, or not having Yiyang in her life at all. That’s not why she’s nodding though. It’s because, even at this point, she still can’t deny Yiyang.

“S-sure,” she says, her voice raspy. “I-I have to go. I have—something. An event.” She does, actually, but she can’t even remember what it is, everything shoved to the back of her mind because the forefront became occupied with one thing. One person. Except that one person doesn’t want her there anymore.

Yiyang nods. “Okay.” She hesitates. “Don’t be late.”

Xiening nods jerkily, unable to speak, and practically runs away like she’s fleeing a crime scene. Except, she feels like a victim: flayed, desiccated, crushed. She might as well have left her innards there at Yiyang’s feet.

Far behind her, where Xiening can’t see, Yiyang stumbles and almost falls to her knees. Shoulders shaking. Tears streaking silently down her face.

It had taken every ounce of composure, every bit of restraint, every iota of acting ability she had not to crack in front of Xiening. Not to pull Xiening into her arms and tell her she’s never letting go again. Not to reassure Xiening that her feelings have stayed the same these past two years as well, that she’s also waited so long for this moment. Not to kiss her.

Even at the end, Yiyang couldn’t bring herself to make it a clean break. She wants so desperately to stay in Xiening’s life somehow, even if it’s merely as a friend. Even that would probably be discouraged, if not banned in some way, but at least Xiening has to know that Yiyang still supports her. If that even got across, that is.

I’m sorry, Xiening. I’m so sorry.

Even though Yiyang knows Xiening can’t hear her, she finds herself repeating those words over and over again, until her voice cracks, breaks, dies. She’s surprised the rest of her hasn’t followed.

Xiening somehow makes her way to Yijin’s apartment, barely aware of how she even got there in one piece. Then again, she doesn’t exactly feel in one piece right now.

Yijin takes one look at Xiening’s face and her own immediately tightens with concern. “What happened?”

“Yiyang, she—” Xiening can’t even continue. Her shoulders are already hitching, and when Yijin opens her arms Xiening lets herself be wrapped up in them. “She doesn’t love me anymore,” Xiening gets out, and then bursts into wracking sobs.

She thought that she left that weeping girl behind onstage two years ago. She hasn’t cried that hard since, not even during their anniversary or their disbandment. Then again, Yiyang has always had a way of undoing her.

Yijin stills. “That-that can’t be.”

“She doesn’t. She said so. She doesn’t want me anymore.” And then Xiening can’t continue, crying her heart out against Yijin’s shoulder like a child seeking comfort. Yijin makes meaningless comforting sounds and her hair and rubs circles between her shoulder blades, and it’s nice, it is, it’s infinitely better than being alone and wallowing in her heartbreak and yet—

The last time she cried like this, it was also over Yiyang. But back then, Yiyang had held her, had tenderly wiped away her tears and reassured her that they weren’t saying goodbye forever and coaxed a smile out of her somehow. Back then, Yiyang loved her, loved her and promised her their love would last.

“You-you liar,” Xiening splutters. “You went back on your word.”

“What?” Yijin asks, bewildered.

Xiening tries to draw in a deep breath but just feels like she’s choking. Like she’s underwater and can’t get enough air no matter how hard she inhales.

“It’s okay, just let it out,” Yijin says gently, like she’s soothing a small child. “Don’t hold yourself back. Cry as much as you want. I’m here.”

Yiyang said she was there too. She said she would always be there. She lied to me.

“Yi—” Xiening’s voice dies before she can finish the word.

“I’m here,” Yijin repeats, patting her back, but she isn’t the person Xiening was calling for. The person she still wants by her side, the person she would always want by her side. “It’s okay, Xiening. It’s okay.”

No, Xiening thinks, it’s not.

Yijin insists that Xiening takes her bed, but Xiening adamantly refuses and in the end, Yijin gives up and lets Xiening take the couch.

“Do you want anything? A cup of tea? Some food?”

I want Yiyang, Xiening thinks, but she just shakes her head. “Thank you,” she says, pulling the blanket Yijin had given her up to her chin. “You’ve been—I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Yijin says gently. “You would do the same for me.”

Xiening gives a dry, mirthless chuckle. “Let’s hope I don’t ever need to.”

Yijin is quiet for a moment. “You don’t mind if I go make a phone call, do you?”

A warning bell goes off in Xiening’s head. “You’re not going to call Yiyang, are you?”

Yijin’s silence is enough of an answer.

Xiening’s hand flies out and clutches her arm. “Please, don’t. Don’t bother her about this.”

“Bother her?” Yijin repeats incredulously. “Xiening, she broke your heart.”

“She did,” Xiening acknowledges, swallowing. is so dry that it’s audible. “But it’s not like she cheated on me or anything. Well, I guess she could have but I don’t think so. If she doesn’t want this anymore, that’s her right. She’s not a bad person because of that.”

“I’m not going to scream at her and call her a bad person. I just…want to make some sense of this all. I can’t see Yiyang doing this.” Yijin’s voice gentles. “Xiening, I hope me saying this doesn’t upset you, but it’s clear how much you two have always loved each other. I just… I don’t understand how she could have done this.”

“Feelings fade,” Xiening says, training her eyes on the blanket. “Like she said, we barely saw each other and even when we did it was very short. We barely had time for our own lives, not to mention be a part of each other’s.”

Yijin looks at her with poorly concealed pity, like she’s just offering excuses. Maybe she is. Maybe it’d be better for her to tell herself that it’s natural feelings fizzle out, it’s one of the inevitable parts of adult life. How many people end up with their first loves, after all?

(Still, she thought they could beat the odds. They could be the exception. She was so naïve, wasn’t she?)

The truth is, she can tell herself all sorts of facts about relationships and emotions and heartache, but none of it would ease the pain that’s pulsing under her ribs.

“Don’t call her tonight, at least,” Xiening says. “Please, just stay with me for a bit. I don’t want to be alone.”

She hates how weak and childish she sounds, her voice cracking, but Yijin just pats her on the shoulder and takes a seat beside her.

“Of course. I won’t leave. I’m right here.”

Xiening appreciates it more than she can say, even though she can’t help but be wary of promises. Someone else had said that to her before, too, after all.