After returning to the apartment and putting away all of the groceries, Seungwan immediately flopped onto the couch, exhausted from the exuberance of their outing, like crashing from a sugar high where the only monosaccharides she had consumed were that of each Joohyun's company.

Joohyun on the other hand, was searching for a suitable vase to put the bouquet that Seungwan had bought. She was rummaging through various kitchen cabinets, hoping to find where Seungwan might've stashed a stray container. Her search turned up empty.

"Seungwan? Do you have anywhere to put these flowers?"

The woman draped over the arm of the couch, one leg hung over its back, sat up, scanning the room. Her eyes landed on the only vase in the whole apartment, standing in its usual place on top of the cabinet by the entrance. Joohyun followed the singer's gaze, whipping her head back towards her direction, locking eyes. Appalled, she shakes her head. "You've got to be kidding me. There's no way that's the only vase you own."

Seungwan just shrugs, standing up and making her way to the kitchen. "I've never really had a need for one before. Don't get flowers often."

"So you're just going to be completely unprepared in the case you do get flowers?"

Laughing, the singer replies, "I wouldn't count on it anytime soon. That is, unless you get me some." She finishes her statement with a wink, turning around too quickly to see Joohyun avert her eyes. It appears Seungwan has the same idea as Joohyun did earlier, going to the closest cabinet and making her way across the kitchen, opening every door and peering inside for any sign of a vase. Unlike Joohyun, though, she's relatively sure that she won't be able to find anything. 

Thinking to save her the trouble, Joohyun chimes in, "I've already checked all of the cupboards. I'm confident that there aren't any vases in there."

Spotting something, Seungwan's eyes light up. The singer smirks. Reaching her arm into the cabinet, she launches into an unnecessary introduction to a dramatic reveal, "You just haven't overcome functional fixedness, Joohyun. Open your eyes to a world of wonder! The Amazing Seungwan presents..." With a grand sweep of her arm, she uses the other to presumably pull out a suitable vase, exclaiming, "Behold, the finest piece of glassware in this hemisphere!"

If only it truly was.  Instead, the singer brandished a glass pitcher, holding it up on display like she was a model on the shopping channel. Seungwan seemed very smug, but Joohyun was not having it. Forget the Amazing Seungwan. This was the Amazing Dork.

"You're telling me you have a pitcher, but not a vase?" Joohyun rolls her eyes. "What's next? Are you going to tell me that you have little lemonade parties more often than you receive flowers?"

Seungwan lowered the pitcher, giving Joohyun a look that tells the genie she hit the nail right on the head. Joohyun just stared back in disbelief. Absentmindedly scratching the back of her head, Seungwan explains, "Seulgi and I like to spend nice summer days drinking lemonade on the balcony. Can you blame us?" 

It would've sounded refreshing if Joohyun wasn't disturbed at the thought of displaying such beautiful flowers in a pitcher meant to hold refreshments, not preserve plants. 

"Anyway," the singer continued, "this is perfect! It holds an adequate amount of water for all of the flowers..." As if to demonstrate, she brings it to the sink, filling the vessel with tap. "It is also so convenient to change the water! Simply pour!" She tilts the pitcher, letting the water flow back down the drain from the lip. "As you can see, it's not as finicky as other vases where water falls more unpredictably." She uses exaggerated movements to punctuate her claim. "It's almost as if this container was made for pouring liquid." Seungwan gives the world's dopiest grin, feeling as though her unique demonstration sealed the deal. Well, Joohyun couldn't argue with any of that, and she didn't see very many alternatives. If she rejected this proposal, who knows what Seungwan might suggest next. Her decision very well put her on the brink of displaying flowers in a pasta pot.

The genie sighed, bringing the bouquet toward the half-full pitcher. If Seungwan were an animal right now, she would be a squirrel chittering in excitement. As Joohyun places the flowers in the water, Seungwan makes a final comment.

"Welcome to the land of opportunity, Joohyun." She claps Joohyun on the back, who defeatedly pushes the pitcher to the center of the island. It doesn't make for a half bad display, actually. Wait, she can't be thinking like that. Seungwan's flawed logic must be getting to her.

"Do you need to stamp my passport officer? I'd rather there be no record of my presence here."

"Oh, it's far too late, passenger. You've come through customs and there's no way of leaving."

With it just past three when they returned home, the pair had seemingly run out of things to do, and had returned to the state of bored nothingness. Such was the case until Seungwan suggested they watch a movie. Lacking better ideas, Joohyun agreed. 

So here they were, Seungwan crouched next to the TV cabinet, shuffling through the DVDs of Seulgi's film collection. She pulls out one with a UFO on the cover. "How are you feeling about Sci-Fi right now?"

"Mm... Alien abductions are probably going to give me nightmares."

"I swear this isn't that scary."

"You'd think that with all of the things I've seen, I'd be less scared in general. That's not the case. Try again."

Seungwan sees her point, sliding the DVD to the bottom of the stack. "Okay, how about this one? I don't think we've watched a fantasy together yet." The castles and knights on the cover tell Joohyun all she needs to know about that movie. She does not want to fact check the existence of fairies and dragons and all of their technicalities right now. Joohyun's frown is enough to make Seungwan put the case back into the cabinet. 

Seungwan puts the CDs down on the coffee table, slouching in resignation. "Joohyun..." The singer whines, "I've presented like ten of these now and you rejected all of them! Seulgi would be so offended if she was here."

Joohyun looks back sympathetically. "I have very specific taste, I suppose."

"Well if your taste is so specific, why don't you just tell me what you feel like watching?"

The genie doesn't quite know herself, but answers with the first thing that comes to mind. "Do you have any romances?"

"Wow, unexpected, but we'll roll with it. I could've put money on you choosing another historical piece with how often you seem to be watching these days."

"Maybe I wanted something different this time," Joohyun answers.

"Sure, sure." Seungwan slides her selections back into the cabinet, fingers then brushing across the various titles, pausing on one. "Here," She says, pulling out the movie, "I think I have one you might like. It's one of Seulgi's favorites." She pops the movie into the DVD player. As the machine whirs to life and Seungwan swipes the remote off the table, turning the monitor on with a click, she relays a brief description. "So this film centers on a small town boy and girl, childhood friends. We watch as their love develops, but they have different ambitions that inevitably drive them apart. It's a little bittersweet, but you seem like the type of person who would like that sort of thing."

Joohyun gives a questioning look. "Really? How does one seem like to like bittersweetness?"

"Oh, I don't know," Seungwan looks Joohyun up and down, "Like you have a tragic genie backstory or something."

She can't hold in her laughter, chuckling incessantly, but receiving only silence from Seungwan. Oh, she was serious. After a minute, she is able to stifle her laughter, turning to the singer who gazes at her expectantly.

"I just assumed that, with all of those years of living, you might've been through a thing or two."

Joohyun had no argument against that, but still found it funny to imagine herself as some sort of grizzled veteran, scarred by a past she couldn't shirk. Then again, maybe she was in some way or another.

The opening music brings Joohyun back to the present. Beginning with a shot of spring flowers, the camera descends, following the path of a train meandering along tracks running from a city, the urban landscape sprawling out before it transitions to the grass and blossoming trees of a small town. A petal defies the law of physics, bobbing on the wind forever just inches ahead of the camera, an almost never-ending game of cat and mouse. As the train stops at the station, the petal falls, diverting its path off of the tracks and onto side streets, twirling past small store fronts, managers sweeping the sidewalk free of the petal's loose predecessors blown by the same winds that carry it now.

Eventually, it meets its forebearers' fate, laying to rest in front of of a playground, nearly void of children save for two. A boy and girl were squatted together, tiny feet with tiny sandals planted firmly in the confines of their new world, sandbox turned into a vast desert, they, the sole engineers to bend it to their will. 

Hooked by the intro alone, Joohyun hadn't even noticed Seungwan get up to turn off the lights. With the flick of the switch, the living room darkened. With Seungwan sliding into the seat beside her, the story began.

They were childhood friends, even better, neighbors. The pair grew up together, constantly bickering but with an undeniable loyalty to one another. Joohyun thought it was the cutest premise, having a bond that couldn't be broken. Every scene of a walk back home after school, every late night convenience store run, every chase by the side of the river, none were experiences she could personally relate to, yet she found simultaneous comfort and longing in them nonetheless. When the leads first clasped hands together, running down the streets to get home before the streetlights , Joohyun felt a tug on her own heartstrings.

Lights flashed across the television, flickering pixels, moving pictures — technological magic — conveying a story through the screen. It was like peering into a mirror, instead, a different world reflecting back at her. Joohyun was utterly encapsulated. 

On the other hand, Seungwan didn't find herself as invested in the story that laid itself out before them. Having watched it countless times with Seulgi, she knew the plot like the back of her hand. From the climactic confession scene to how the pair drifts apart due to different ideals and motivations only to reunite in their future, Seungwan could play it all in her head like churning the handle on a personal film reel, speeding up, slowing down, or rewinding at her leisure.

What was so new to her, however, and what captured her attention most, was not the intricacy of the interactions in the movie, but Joohyun's reactions. Whereas Seulgi would've been talking nonstop, narrating what scene would come next, marveling over the different camera techniques and angles, Joohyun was silent. She gave no verbal indication of this, but it was plain to Seungwan how fascinated she was. The woman was already a genie, but while watching this film, Seungwan truly felt as though Joohyun was in a different world. She gazed at the characters as if she knew them, looked despondent when there was conflict, joyous when there was development. It was almost as if she was watching scenes of her own romance, taking center stage amidst the drama and twists. Seungwan wondered who Joohyun imagined her love interest to be. 

Occasionally, Joohyun would break out of her daze and turn to Seungwan, try to gauge if their hearts raced in tandem at the pair's first kiss. Seungwan was never watching the screen, but always watching her. Imperceptible to her, Joohyun's chest beat harder. In the dim light, she was relieved that Seungwan couldn't notice the growing red at the tips of her ears.

Turning back to the screen, she felt the indent in the couch next to her move. The cushions contracted, and Seungwan had scooted closer to her. With more shifting, Seungwan's head was now firmly planted on her shoulder. As if knowing that Joohyun would be distracted, she pointed at the screen. "Look, the is here."

Whether she was too interested in the following scene to notice Seungwan slide her hand into hers or too distracted to even comment, Joohyun would never tell.

Looking back to the screen, they returned to the story, both now paying adequate attention to the crucial scene unfolding. 

The boy was now on the brink of the cliff of adulthood. The girl, a year older, was free falling off the edge. Wanting to leave her life in this small town behind, she was on her way to board the next train out, pursue an education, a life even, in the big city miles down the tracks.

And so he ran. He followed the road down, the streets they had chased each other in as kids. He weaved through side streets, ducked into alleyway shortcuts, and wound up on the main road leading toward the station. Lining the path were cherry blossom trees in full bloom, none catching his attention as he barreled toward his love. Petals drifted past him as he ran, nearing the figure of the girl ascending the steps toward the terminal. 

Chest heaving, he placed his hands on his knees. Using the last of his breath, he called out to the girl. With the turn of her body, he begun his plea for her to stay. 

Seungwan buried her head further into Joohyun's shoulder, turning her head away from the screen. She held Joohyun's hand tighter.

The genie didn't think to ask why, using her thumb to trace shapes onto the back of Seungwan's hand as she tuned back into his confession.

"You're more beautiful than these blossoms. But you've always been more fleeting too. Our time together is so transitory." His voice was wistful as it always was during the slower scenes, during conversations at the riverside, during nighttime walks. If it even could, his voice grew lower, "So don't leave me. I love you."

The girl takes only seconds to respond. Looking out across the line of trees, she says, "These blossoms will be gone soon, and so will I. I can't stay for you. If you really loved me, cherish our time together."

Joohyun's eyes glisten, and not just from the glow of the television. A tear rolls down her cheek. Is this the end for them?

The sensation is replaced by a new one, Seungwan's warm hand wiping away her tears. "I've never seen you cry before."

"I'm not, I'm not." The genie blinks the tears away as best she can, crossing her arms and looking away from both the singer and the screen. "I think we need to clean the living room again, because I think some dust just went in my eye."

Seungwan giggles, and Joohyun almost forgets that the movie is even still playing. Time seems to still as Seungwan wraps an arm around her waist, giving a slight squeeze to comfort her. "Ah, cheer up, Joohyun. There's going to be a happy ending." The singer's smile illuminates the dark room. For her following statement, her tone dims, "And besides, this kind of thing wouldn't happen in real life anyway."

Joohyun shakes her head. "I think it could've happened before. Even if it didn't, I still like it — still want to believe in romance. Though I wonder if romantics even exist anymore."

"Aren't I one?"

Seungwan's playful smirk makes Joohyun's tear ducts stall and lips pull into a smile. She forgets their current intimacy, only thinking to banter back. "Are you? I don't know if you would run so much to stop the love of your life from leaving. You can hardly run three blocks."

The arm around Joohyun's waist shakes as Seungwan laughs, too amused to come up with a response. It was true, even so. 

Joohyun thinks to continue the joke. "Let's say I'm the love interest here, and we're in our own story. I'm just about to leave and you want to beg me to stay. Would you run that far, like he did? Implore me to stay with you? Change my mind before I even step foot on the train?"

Seungwan returns her head to its place on Joohyun's shoulder, hand clutched into a fist above Joohyun's hip. 

Her voice is quiet. "I don't like this scene that much, actually. Wouldn't it have been more romantic to have waited longingly for your return?"

"What if I wanted you to chase me?" Joohyun poses, curious.

"Then I might. I think it's so much easier to chase than to be chased."

The genie laughs to break the tension. "As if I would have it any easier. My protagonist doesn't even want to try and come get me."

Seungwan doesn't look back at her, eyes fixated on the screen. "I guess I'm just a bad protagonist then, aren't I?"

Joohyun leans into Seungwan. "Your unconventional nature makes you more interesting. I wouldn't want this cookie cutter man to be my lead," She scoffs, before returning to her previous, more soothing demeanor, giving a compliment so nonchalant that if Seungwan wasn't already fully captured by Joohyun's presence, she could've missed it.

But she didn't.

Joohyun's eyes flicker, reflecting the colors gleaming across the monitor. One second, as blue as the sky, another second, as pink as the blossoms.

"You're more than perfect for me."

The final scene was a winter's kiss. It had left an impression on Joohyun. Perhaps it was something about the season, how it felt so warm despite the cold, how people would huddle walking down streets in the evening. She imagined blowing breaths in the frigid air, watching as water vapor condensed and floated away. 

In fact, she was watching a similar process now, but with steam instead of breath. She stood over the boiling pot of pasta, watching Seungwan stir. The singer was taking her through the steps of cooking, in the case that she wanted to make something for herself on the days that Seungwan was gone. It had been a while since she or a master had actually cooked, most becoming wealthy enough to afford personal chefs within just a few weeks of meeting Joohyun. It was nostalgic nonetheless. She looked over the rising steam and was reminded of slow days in a restaurant, taking a break after a lunch rush, apron about the waist neatly tied at the back. It feels like home.

Seungwan interrupts her thoughts. "I know this isn't from scratch, so it's not going to be as good as the time you were in Italy, but it's a lot faster. It'll only be about a half hour more." Having stirred enough, she let the pot sit on the stove as she started preparing ingredients for a sauce. "There's not much left for me to show you, I just have to throw all of these together and we're as good as done here! You can just sit tight, or do whatever you want really, and I'll let you know when this is all ready."

Joohyun pulled out the stool from the island. "I'll just sit here, if you don't mind. I like watching."

"Sure," Seungwan replied over her shoulder, "I can't say there's very much to see, but maybe I need to start getting used to an audience again."

She wiped the sweat from her brow, appearing taller than she normally was, imbued by a calm confidence that must have come with past experience in the kitchen. Her short brown hair was pulled into a low ponytail, bobbing as she chopped the onions. Internally, Joohyun thought that Seungwan was enough of a show on her own. 

"Are you getting back to preparational activities soon?"

Seungwan nods. "Apparently, in a few days I'll start shooting for a music video."

"Oh really, did the full song come back yet?"

Seungwan feels her pocket buzz, pulling out her phone with one hand and mixing with the other, she checked the incoming message. "Uh, yeah, it just did actually. Lim just sent me the mp3." She brings her phone over to the speakers lined up against the wall on the counter situated in the corner of the kitchen. "I told you I'd let you hear it first so..." She plugs in her phone, connecting to the speakers with a click. "Want to hear it now?"

With Joohyun's enthusiastic nod, Seungwan pressed play and raised the volume, letting the opening notes overtake the sounds of the boiling water on the stove. The teasing melody of the horns was balanced against the slow piano chords. The introduction was like the beginning of a rollercoaster ride, inching upward to the peak, chains chugging along the tracks.

Returning to her task of throwing herbs into the mixture of sauce, Seungwan looked across the island at Joohyun. She sees the genie with eyes closed, completely absorbed in the music. When the drums kick in, she watches her smile, shinier than the brass off the trumpets that sounded throughout their kitchen. In free fall, she catapulted down the first drop.

Though Joohyun didn't have much of a taste for modern pop, she found herself falling in love with this song. Maybe it was the way every beat was perfectly placed, every syllable, every note adding to an atmosphere that recalled endless spring days, heart-racing bike rides, conspicuous glances and conspicuous crushes.  Maybe it was the way Seungwan sang, like every word was addressed to her and her alone. Every swell in her voice left a swell in Joohyun's heart. In her mind, she was doing loops, flipped upside down, a swivel right, a swing left. Was she on the ride alone, or did she have a partner and a hand to hold?

She shifted in her seat, anticipation and restlessness coursing through her, a quickening heartbeat and sweat-slicked palms. That's just how the song made her feel, in love. 

When the song faded out, she could hardly believe it was over. The ride came to a stop. It was like everything changed, but stayed the same, like the world had tilted on its axis by the slightest degree, placing every object, every person in a new location. She didn't yet know whether this degree had resulted in a displacement of a centimeter or a mile.

The same cupboard to the far left of the kitchen, just above the fridge, still, perpetually, hung somewhat ajar from a hinge rusted over. The same faucet, always running the water a little more cold than Joohyun would like, even when twisting the handle for hot water. The same Seungwan, shoes still tapping lightly to an imaginary continuation of the beat, the same humming she could hear echoing across the bathroom tile on Sunday mornings, echoing across the hardwood in the living room, echoing now across the granite counters.

Yet it was all different. The cupboard door hung lower than usual. The faucet was warm today. Seungwan tapped harder, hummed louder, hummed lighter.

Change. Change isn't bad.

Straining the pasta into plates, steam rose, a cold winter's warm breath. Joohyun watches as Seungwan moves across the tile, feet light and hands in constant motion. Sauce. Plating. Garnish. The lovely humming stops.

Joohyun doesn't miss it, grins as it's replaced by an even lovelier voice. 

"It's ready, Joohyun."

After a dinner filled with probing questions: "How'd you like the song? Did you like how they mixed the guitars? Was I a little pitchy during the ?", to which the answers were: "I didn't like it, I loved it, Absolutely, and Not at all," they stood shoulder-to-shoulder at the sink, washing their dishes. There was no sound except for the clatter of dishes and running water, each content in the quiet atmosphere.

At first, they had bickered over who should take the responsibility ("Let me do it, this is my apartment!" "No, it's ours now, and I should do it because you cooked the meal!"), but eventually compromised on completing the task jointly. They agreed that they could finish faster together anyway.

Seungwan is the first to break the silence. "Isn't this so domestic? It's almost as if we're a married couple," She suggests, chuckling.

Joohyun scrubs harder. "Didn't you do chores with Seulgi? You must've been a horrible roommate."

"Well, it wasn't like this for sure. We'd joke and mess around so much that the chores would never actually get done, so we decided to assign individual tasks for us to do." Seungwan places a dish in the drying rack, then gesturing toward the kitchen floor. "The number of times that we got soap and water all over the tile is far too many to count! I remember that we both tried walking out and slipped, one after the other. We were laughing so hard we couldn't get up!" The singer smiles so brightly thinking back on these memories. "I feel like this apartment was always loud with us together. With you, it's more quiet."

The genie looks down into the bottom of the sink, watching the bubbles sink down the drain. "I'm sorry I'm not as entertaining," She says solemnly.

Seungwan waves away her statement, the free hand flailing as she tries not to let the wet glass slip from her fingers. "No, no, I didn't mean it like that at all!" She takes the towel, wiping the rim. "Our silence is comfortable. I don't feel pressured to speak at all, as if our silence could communicate volumes on its own." She reaches for the plate that Joohyun hands to her. "Every time I take a dish from you to dry off, it's like our own little conversation, these interactions. Do you get what I mean?"

"You're being weird today, Seungwan."

The singer shrugs. "Maybe I'm just being me. Wouldn't it be boring if I were more normal?"

"I think I could find you interesting any which way you were."

It grows quiet again, the faucet filling up the gaps in their conversation. Joohyun thinks she knows what Seungwan is talking about. Every time she finishes lathering a fork with the sponge, rinsing it off with water before handing it to Seungwan, they speak to each other. Passing a spoon, fingers brushing each others', it's as if they say, "I'm paying attention." Drying off a bowl: "I'll work with you." Turning the handle of the faucet so the water runs the slightest bit warmer: "I'm here."

Joohyun thinks that this silence is one of the most fulfilling conversations she's ever had. She feels, oddly enough, listened to. Seungwan always had a strange way of making people feel like that, like they were the only person in the world, like all of your troubles were her's, troubles to be faced together. She wonders if everyone who knew her felt like this, wonders if fans listened to Wendy because Wendy listened back. Joohyun was confident that they did.

However, the genie must've gotten too absorbed in her thoughts. Their well-oiled machine falls apart. Seeing Seungwan reach for the next utensil, Joohyun lets go too quickly, the fork slipping through her fingers, meeting the bottom of the metal sink with a clang. 

Joohyun startles, instinctively throws her arms up and covers her face. "Kiyub!"

They stand stunned by the foreign interjection as the metal rings out, the contrary combination of din and silence then pushed out by the sound of Seungwan's laughter. She doubles over, one hand pressed against the counter, still clutching the drying cloth as she claps the other against her thigh like a seal clapping fins.

"Kiyub? What kind of sound is that!"

In the next instant, they're laughing together. In between guffaws and chuckles, Joohyun thinks that if laughter could be music, it would sound like this.

After a gradual recovery, Seungwan reaches into the sink to retrieve the fork, rinsing it off herself and placing it in the rack. Leaning against the counter, she springs a sudden question. 

"Want to take a walk?"

Joohyun shouldn't have agreed. It was dark, it was cold, it was a strange request. But she was always weak to Seungwan's wishes, and it was her job to grant them after all.

So here they were, taking a walk down to who knows where around 8:00 PM. Well, there was a where, but Joohyun didn't know it. 

"Just where are you taking me, Son Seungwan?"

"It's no fun if it's not a surprise, Bae Joohyun," Seungwan retorts, sticking her tongue out at the genie. "Besides, isn't it nice?" She wraps an arm through Joohyun's, locking them together and sealing their proximity by sliding a hand in her coat pocket.

Joohyun can't help but agree. She doesn't know if it was intentional or a coincidence, but Seungwan had chosen a route that wound them on a street lined with cherry blossom trees. It looked just like the film they had watched earlier, if not more beautiful seeing it in person. But sometimes, it was harder to make out the petals in the dim glow of the street lights, more like isolated patches illuminated by the fluorescent bulbs hanging idly by. She wonders if they went to see them during the day, how they would shine in the sunlight, a sea of rose-tinted mirrors, glimmering in the space above them. 

Part of her thought it was more beautiful this way, just her and Seungwan alone on the near empty sidewalk, shoes stepping along the concrete side by side. More than the flowers, more than the street lights, there were fixtures in the sky. Joohyun craned her head upwards, catching the stray beams of starlight in her eyes.

Seungwan was looking with her, feet coming to a standstill as they gazed together.

There were only a few stars, and often, Joohyun could see them shift, revealing some rather to be planes, dots of alternating green and red weaving across the cloth of the sky.

“Isn’t it funny how these days, the street lights are brighter than the stars?”

“I’ve lived in times when they weren’t.”

Seungwan shuffles her feet, inching slightly closer. “It must have been beautiful.”

“It was. If you focused closely enough, it was almost as if they were moving as you stood.”

In her reminiscence, Joohyun was transported to a field in the swathes of her memory. She leaned back as she did now, staring up into the vast expanse of never-ending light. The stars ebbed like a swarm of fireflies — each planet, each star bioluminescent.

There were so much less now, little flecks of spattered paint on a black canvas.

In the instant that Seungwan tugged Joohyun’s arm to move forward, they sparkled.

And so they kept walking.

Seungwan’s exhale fills the silence. “Sometimes I wish I was an astronomer, you know.”

“Why is that?”

“They have those huge observatories and those huge telescopes. You know, like the Bubble one?”

Joohyun corrects her, “Hubble.”

“Yeah, that.” With her left arm she imitates casting a line, swinging her arm about and pretending it catches hold. “Sometimes, I think it’s like hooking the stars,” She winds an imaginary reel, “Pulling them close enough for you to see.”

Joohyun smiles, thinking of Seungwan flitting about the halls of an observatory, hands paging through records of the last sighting of Halley’s comet instead of plucking chords on her guitar.

The astronomer goes on, “That’s the kind of fishing I would love — star fishing.”

Their short conversation took them to the end of their route, Seungwan unhooking her arm from Joohyun’s.

Not quite the end, actually.

“We’re almost there, it’s just up the hill, but could you close your eyes Joohyun?”

“I don’t think my heart can handle any more surprises today.”

“It’ll be good, I promise,” Seungwan says, holding up crossed fingers as a guarantee before extending a hand for Joohyun to take.

Accepting Seungwan’s hand, her world goes dark, brighter at the same time.

Suddenly, she’s pulled in close to Seungwan’s body, the singer snaking a hand around her waist and holding on tight. Part of Joohyun thinks this was all just an elaborate ruse for more physical contact, not that she was complaining.

Eyes closed, she just had to have full faith that Seungwan would guide her properly. Under usual circumstances, even with her eyes open, Joohyun would've been startled hearing the car engines rumble by or the sound of footsteps nearing from passerbys. Instead, she was more privy to the sensation of warmth as she was tucked into Seungwan's side, enveloped in a scent that was a mixture of spring and vanilla essence. Joohyun did not have synesthesia, but she thinks that if the season had a scent, it smelled like Seungwan's coat, her shoulder, her hair. Maybe it just smelled like Seungwan.

As they walk uphill, Joohyun feels a breeze push past her, tickling her earlobe. It leaves a souvenir for their encounter, dropping a petal on her head. Eyelids shut, she tries her best to brush it off. 

"Don't worry about it, let me get it for you."

In the next second, she feels Seungwan's hot breath on her cheek, straining as she maintains her grip around Joohyun while reaching to brush the petal away. Her hand, like the breeze, is just as light and flighty. In the same amount of time, it was gone.

"Did you get it?" The genie asks.

"Yes, I used magic to make it disappear." 

Joohyun can't see her right now, but something tells her that Seungwan was definitely donning a smug grin, making some strange hand gesture to emulate what she thinks magic must be like. 

"Oh," Seungwan's steps come to a stop. "We're here."

Her arm leaves once again, Joohyun nearly leaning to draw her back in. 

"Open your eyes."

Seungwan stood in front of a large tree, the path they were on ending at the peak of this hill. Its branches spiraled up and outward. The other trees they had seen on the streets could not compare. While they held a flurry, this one was surely a blizzard, surrounding them with pink snowflakes, scattering across the paved floor. It stood in the center, an epicenter of this hurricane. Seungwan was the eye of the storm.

The singer spun with them, generating a wind that swept a few petals along with her. 

"How do you like it?"

Joohyun was too stunned to reply. 

Seungwan smiles. "Too beautiful, isn't it?" She takes her hand, dragging her closer to the concrete barrier that boxed in the tree. "It's not even the best part!" She sits down on the ledge, patting the seat next to her. As Joohyun sits, Seungwan places an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. Taken by surprise, Joohyun looks at the girl, only to find her admiring the view ahead of them, arm stretched outward, ending with her hand drawn to a point. "Look."

So Joohyun does, confronted with a twinkling landscape sprawling like a tapestry to decorate the end of the sky. 

"Sorry for taking you here when it's dark and kind of cold, but there's no other time to see a view like this."

No apologies were needed. This was more than enough.

Seungwan pressed her head to Joohyun's, trying to approximate her point of view. Once again, she pointed, wanting to show Joohyun the beautiful city they lived in. "Down this hill," She gestured, "Is the street we just walked up. It's a lot steeper than you might've thought." 

She was right. All the way down were trees and buildings, a symbiotic relationship between the synthetic and natural.

"Over there," Seungwan moved her arm to the left, "Is our apartment complex. Usually, now, Mrs. Park, our neighbor, would be bringing her dog back from her post-dinner walk."

It's almost as if Joohyun could see her as she squinted into the distance, neon purple sweatpants shining from miles away.

"But there is my favorite part," Seungwan's finger lands on a shifting band of gray on the edge of the horizon. "It's really hard to make it out, but you can see the sea from here. It's like a photo frame sometimes, a border along this picturesque scenery."

It was clear that the ocean was a long distance from where they were, only taking up a millimeter of Joohyun's vision, barely noticeable. It must've said something about who Seungwan was to have all of these glittering lights shine at her, only to determine that she preferred the bleak, gloomy strip far beyond them.

Joohyun thinks she understands, though. There was something magical about it, a silver seam to bind the sky to the earth. If she pressed her fingers to its edge, thumb and index wrapping around the sea's string — if she pulled, it would all unravel. 

Seungwan was always the one to start the conversation when Joohyun got like this.

"It's like we're in our own movie, right? I'm the protagonist, you're the love interest, and we're smack dab in the middle of a confession scene or something of the same importance." She gets up, tapping her feet along the floor, mapping out an indecipherable routine. 

Joohyun watches her glide by, silhouette struck across the background of the city's glow. Her own grandeur rivaled that of the skyscrapers behind her. "You are a romantic."

"Hmm?" Seungwan's expression morphed to slight confusion, eyebrow pulled upward.

"Earlier today, you asked if you were a romantic," Joohyun says, watching the pink swirls at Seungwan's feet. "I think you are."

"So I am a good protagonist then."

"Didn't I say you were?"

If this were a movie, this would be the part where Joohyun confesses, spilling out her thoughts and emotions, her own blizzard, into the night air. She would spend a whole three minutes giving her explanation of her perspective of the film's events, how her feelings have festered and grown.

But this isn't a movie. Joohyun hasn't yet been casted for the role. Seungwan doesn't think she's a deserving protagonist. The singer begins a monologue anyway, the pavement a stage, an audience of one.

"You're more beautiful than these blossoms. But you've always been more fleeting too. Our time together is so transitory." Her voice is wistful, as it always was during conversations  on the balcony, during nighttime talks. If she even could, her voice turned actor, abandoning her history, her assigned role of singer, "So don't leave me. I love you."

Joohyun's eyes are glistening again. Without the glow of the TV screen, Seungwan could tell they were tears. In this moment, she is the leading role, she is the love interest. She recites her lines. "These blossoms will be gone in a week, I'll be gone in a year. If you really love me, let's cherish our time together."

Seungwan stops her quiet dance, steps closer to Joohyun and leans down. "Those aren't the right lines." Warm hand meets her smooth cheek, casting a recurrence of a spell to banish the genie's tears. The magician speaks tenderly, "Why are you crying, Joohyun?"

She closes her eyes, feels Seungwan's thumb gently caress her skin as she returns to her seat. "Do you ever feel like movies get it right? That even though they are fictional and have outlandish scenarios, there's something so hauntingly correct about them?"

Seungwan's silence is its own affirmation, simply continuing her comforting . 

"I can't help but think about the love interest, how she just has to leave even though she loves him too. I asked you- I asked you that if I was that love interest, if you would chase me."

Her master, her singer, her astronomer, her magician, her protagonist, her everything, she nods, she speaks. "Is it just that which is making you cry?"

"No, it's- What if I told you that I had to leave in a year?"

"I'd ask why."

"And what if I were to tell you that at the end of every decade, genies have to go dormant. What if I told you that we have limits, after all, that if we don't, there are consequences? We lose our powers, we return to mortality."

"I would have to accept that you have to go."

"You would have to accept that you can't chase me." 

Seungwan doesn't reply, doesn't know if she agrees, doesn't think to argue against this mystifying, obscure genie corporation that she's never seen, never heard of. She imagines buying a hammer, smashing Irene's vase, freeing her from the life of a genie, from a life of her title.

But said genie goes on, "A year of wishes is enough, isn't it?"

Seungwan would trade away a year more of wishes, a year more of Irene, for a lifetime with Joohyun. She's still flashing through scenarios of what to do, how the vase scenario wouldn't work. They could always just give her a new one, a new prison. Then she'd have to live with the additional shackles from the betrayal of a master she grew to trust.

Seungwan couldn't defy higher powers. She was only a singer, not an astronomer, not a magician, hardly even fit to be a master. All she had was her music. It was not enough to extend their time together. If a thousand songs could give her one more day with Joohyun, she would have already written them all. 

"You've caught me at a bad time, honestly, at the end of this decade. If we had met earlier, perhaps I could've stayed longer. But..." Joohyun pauses, growing silent for a second that drawls out infinitely. "It will be okay. A year is enough. I can still do so much more for you in that time. A year is enough," She repeats, as if to convince herself.

It had to be enough, didn't it? There were no other alternatives. Seungwan stares out at the near empty sky above them. She thinks she catches a shooting star, but what use is there for wishes that can't buy her more time?

She finally responds.

"If a year is enough to relearn existence, it will be enough. We will make it beautiful."

The song "Day 1" will be released on April 19th, 2019, more than two weeks from now.

Day 1 out of 257 left.