SEULGI

Seulgi had been eight years old the day her father left. She had been sitting on the front steps of their small house in Queens, watching the two brothers from across the street toss a football back and forth. She remembered that, the younger of the two, pushed his brother into a puddle of water left over from a long week of rain. They’d yelled and thrown punches at each other until their mother came running out of the house waving a leather belt in one hand. The boys then scattered in opposite directions, laughing as they ran.

Seulgi had watched the mother roll the belt around her hand (in a way that made Seulgi think of a snail) and head back into the house. With nothing left to watch, Seulgi was forced to listen. Behind her, inside the door to her own life, her brother cried, and her mother and father yelled. Then, without warning, all of it stopped.

In the sudden silence, the screen door sounded louder than usual. Her father’s footsteps were drowned by the painful screech of the door swinging closed. He walked by her and turned around at the last step. “I’m sorry, Seul,” he said, before walking away.

Since then, her only communication with her father had been in the form of the occasional letter turned occasional email, and in the checks he sent each month. He was as faithful in his financial contributions as he could never be in his marriage to her mother. She could never hate her father, Seulgi knew, but she had yet to forgive him. Fourteen years was not enough to mend that kind of wound. Perhaps a lifetime wasn’t, either.

His latest email stared back at her from the list on her monitor, and Seulgi read it without responding. Was she okay? Sure. Had she received his latest check? Yes. What was new? Well, other than her stepbrother being gay, not much.

“You look joyful this evening.” Joy walked into Seulgi’s bedroom and sat cross-legged on the bed. “Homework?”

“Father.”

“Ah.” Joy nodded, and popped open the can of soda she was holding. After a long sip, she asked, “Any updates from the family about you-know-who admitting he’s you-know-what?”

Seulgi sighed, placing the laptop next to her on the bed and leaning forward. “I’m pretty sure they’ve gone into complete denial at this point. Mom called earlier and she didn’t even mention it. It’s as if it never happened.”

“So, what, they’re just going to pretend he’s straight?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Have you talked to Chanyeol yet?”

“No. I honestly have no idea what to say to him.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t care what you say, as long as he knows you support him.” Joy cocked her head to the side. “You do support him, right?”

Seulgi looked pointedly at her best friend. “Of course I do! It’s just ... it’s Chanyeol, you know? Chanyeol. I just can’t picture him ... you know ...”

“Taking it up the—“

“Aaargh!” Seulgi covered her ears until she was certain it was safe to unclog them. “That’s not quite what I meant. I just don’t picture him, being ... gay. He’s just Chanyeol, my geeky—“

“Extremely hot...”

“Stepbrother.”

“Why are the hot ones always gay? How is the human race expected to survive if only the ugly people are breeding, you know?” She paused. “Present company excluded, of course.”

“Thanks for that.”

“I’m just saying, there’s going to come a point when no one is going to want to sleep with each other because everyone is too damn ugly.”

“Mmm, I’m not sure about that. Sometimes, really ugly people have really good looking kids.”

Joy looked incredulous. “Like who?” 

“I don’t know! People.”

Joy shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. “Ah well, it’s not like all the gay people aren’t breeding these days anyway.” She brightened. “Hey, do you think Chanyeol will let me give birth to his kids?”

“Okay, this conversation is starting to veer into a creepy place.”

“Wonder if he’s got a boyfriend.”

Seulgi thought about it. “You think? Hm. I wonder what kind of guy Chanyeol would be dating.”

“Only one way to find out.”

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” Seulgi decided.

“Or just drop by unannounced so he doesn’t have time to hide his boy toy. Ooh, or boy toys. You think Chayeol’s into ? He looks like the type.”

“And again with the creepy place.”

“Sorry. Oh, speaking of creepy, where’s Sehun tonight?”

“Debate team practice.”

“Ugh, lame.” Joy made a face. “So when are you dumping him?”

Seulgi sighed and sunk down into the pillows behind her. “Do we really have to have this conversation again?”

“Yes, because I’ve got hot guys lined up for a chance to date you, and they’re not going to wait forever. Wake up and smell the testosterone.”

Seulgi smiled. “What makes you think I’d jump at the chance to date any of these guys?” 

“Ah, hello, did I mention the hot part? First, there’s John. He’s training to be an Olympic swimmer. Swimmer, Seulgi.” 

“I’m familiar with the word...”

“Then I’d hope you’re also familiar with the hotness of swimmers’ bodies. Then there’s Chris. He’s not a swimmer, but he’s still hot in a rock-and-roll sort of way. Plus, how cute would it be if you dated a guy named Chris?”

“I’ll go with not at all.”

“Fine. Lastly, and I’ve saved the best for last, there’s Kai. He’s Korean too and he's got the most gorgeous eyes you will ever see in your life, and he’s an artist.” Despite herself, Seulgi was intrigued. “What kind of artist?”

“He’s a DANCER,”Joy said, and it was obvious she was pleased with herself. “He even goes to NYU, which is where he’s seen you.”

“Really?” Seulgi couldn’t recall noticing any male dancers with gorgeous eyes at school. “I don’t think I’ve seen him.”

“Well, he’s certainly seen you.” 

“And you know this how?”

“I know many things, Seul. I am like the Oracle of the Village.” She paused. “So if you’re not interested in the swimmer guy, can I have him?” Seulgi laughed. “You can have all three of them.”

“Mmm,” she considered. “Think I could convince Chanyeol to join in?”

“I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.”

Joy laughed and got up. “I’ll leave you to your cybering, or whatever it was you were doing before I interrupted. TV calls. Want to join me later? I think there’s a really bad vampire movie on.”

“Count on it. Let me just finish up with my email. I have to write to Professor Satan and ask for an extension on that damn Shakespeare paper.”

“You still haven’t finished it?”

Seulgi sighed. “Do you think having a brother come out of the closet counts as a family emergency?”

“Probably in South Korea but not in New York City.” Joy laughed and walked out the door.

Left alone, Seulgi picked up the laptop again and regarded the screen. She had no idea what to write back to her father. She had no idea what excuse to give to her professor. And she had no idea who Sooya Kim was. Frowning, she clicked on the mysterious email titled “Your Art”.

After reading it over several times, excitement began to overshadow her initial confusion and disbelief. Wow, was all she could think, and she somehow contained her giddiness long enough to hit reply.

Dear Ms. Kim,

Seulgi paused after that, trying to think of something to write that wouldn’t sound completely idiotic.

Thank you, I’m so pleased you

So pleased that what? That she thinks I’m a good artist? That she liked the art she bought? I can’t say that. She deleted her initial response and tried again.

Thank you for being so kind as to write to me. I can honestly say no one has ever done that before.

God, I sound like such a loser. Why don’t I just put ‘squeeee’ in the subject line and be done with it? She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

If you don’t mind me asking, which piece did you buy? I can’t help but be curious, as this is the first time anyone has ever written to me about my art.

I don’t have any of my work in a gallery, though perhaps some day, if I’m lucky. In the meantime, you can always find me at Central Park should you ever find yourself in New York again.

Again, thank you so much for writing to me. I can’t express how nice it felt to read your email.

Sincerely, Kang Seulgi

After running the spell checker three times, she finally hit send.

~.~

JISOO 

Jisoo sighed without looking up from the book she was reading. “You’re in my sun.”

“Is that any way to greet your best friend? It’s been at least two hours since our last conversation. Haven’t you missed me?”

“I’m not even going to ask how you got into my house.”

“Rosé dropped me off. She’s got keys.” Jackson pulled the nearest lounge chair closer and sat down. He looked around the pool area for a minute before continuing. “I tried the doorbell but I guess you didn’t hear it.”

“I heard it,” Jisoo said pointedly.

“So you were just ignoring me? I thought maybe you’d fallen and couldn’t get up. I came to rescue you from certain death.”

“Or maybe I was out?”

Jackson let out a long laugh. “Right.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I was with Rosé. Considering the fact that we make up your entire social circle, odds are that you’d be home.” He nodded at the book. “Reading.”

“I resent that.” 

“Because it’s true...”

“It is not. There are a million places I could be at the moment, and a hundred people I could be with.”

“And yet, you’re with your book.”

“It’s a good book.”

“Which brings me back to my original point.”

“Which is?”

“That if you’re not with Rosé or myself, you’re usually alone.”

Jisoo sighed. What was the point of arguing when she knew he was right? “Speaking of being alone, could I get back to that?”

“Well, fine ... next time you don’t answer your door I’ll just let you lie there, all --”

“?”

“I figured you’d be .”

Jisoo shook her head and put a bookmark in her book. “Does your girlfriend know you’re picturing me ?”

“First, she’s not my girlfriend. And second, I didn’t say I was picturing you , only that you were .”

Jisoo arched an eyebrow.

“Okay, I pictured you , but in my defense I picture you a lot less frequently now than I did when we first met. Besides, that bikini you’re wearing right now doesn’t leave much to the imagination anyway, so--”

“Okay, just stop talking. What did you come here for that was so important you had break in?”

“How can I stop talking if you ask me a question? Do you want me to answer it by batting my eyelashes in Morse code?”

“Remind me again why we’re friends?”

“Is that what we are?” He smiled, but then turned serious. “The truth is, I need to talk to you about something important... and you have to promise not to fly off the handle. You’re not PMSing by any chance, are you?”

“If I were, you’d probably be dead right now.”

“Excellent.” Jackson scratched the back of his head nervously. “How much do you trust Rosé?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“I just mean,” Jackson said slowly, “do you consider her a friend? You know, the kind of friend you might, I don’t know, confide in?”

“Why?”

Jackson coughed. “Well...”

“What did you tell her?” Jisoo demanded.

“Nothing!” Jackson said quickly. “I swear. I haven’t told her anything. It’s just...” 

“Yes...?”

“I just think ... that maybe you should. You know, tell her.”

“Tell her what, Jackson?”

He met her gaze. “You know what.”

Jisoo frowned and shook her head. “Why? It’s none of her business.”

“I know that, it’s just that ... well, see ...”

“Yeah?”

“She thinks that maybe ...” 

“Just spit it out, Jackson!”

“Okay. Okay.” Jackson took a deep breath. “See, she’s gotten it into her head that you have feelings for me, and she wants to break things off because she thinks that at any moment you’re going to admit that you’re in love with me, and I’m going to come running to you. She’s also freaking out that you’re going to fire her out of jealousy.”

Jisoo found the thought so ridiculous that she laughed. “That’s insane,” she said.

“From your perspective, maybe, which is why I think you should just tell her the truth. It’s not like she wouldn’t understand. And I mean, really, it should be me worried here. The second she knows you’re gay she’s gonna dump me and go after you.” He frowned. “You’re not into her, are you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jackson.” Jisoo sighed, rubbing her temples.

“It might help you to tell someone who really understands, anyway. I’m the only one you’ve told and what the hell do I know about it?”

Jisoo sighed, not wishing to get into this particular topic of conversation. All she’d wanted was a day in the sun, perhaps a dip in the pool, or a walk on the ocean. She made sure to keep thoughts of her uality as far away from her conscious mind as humanly possible.

“Just because you don’t talk about it doesn’t mean it’s going to go away,” Jackson said softly. “As much as I’ve secretly hoped for it to.” He smiled sadly. “I get that you’re not going to change. I mean, if you can resist my charms all of these years...”

Jisoo looked away.

“Some day you’re going to meet someone you really like and you’re going to have to face things.”

“Maybe, but I’d rather that time not be now.” She chewed on her bottom lip, looking around beyond the vanishing edge pool to the ocean beyond. “It’s not that I don’t trust Rosé,” she said, turning back to her best friend. “I’m just not ready for anyone else to know. First it’s Rosé, and then it’s someone else, and someone else, and ...” She looked away again. “I share too much of myself already, Jackson. My life is hardly my own. I can’t control half the things they say about me in the press. I can’t control the pictures they put on the Internet, or the rumors that get spread. But this, I feel like, for now, this I can control, because no one would ever guess it. And if they can’t guess it, then they can’t hurt me with it.”

“You can’t keep this up forever, Jisoo.”

“Was it your goal to depress me today? If so, congratulations.”

“Thanks, I try. While I’m on a roll with that, the other thing I came to tell you today, Jisoo, is that I’m going to have to break up with you.”

Jisoo smiled. “Shocker.”

“Not that it hasn’t been fun being your beard,” Jackson added. “But, I’m sorry to say, you’re horrible in bed.”

“If you tell that to the press, I will have you hunted down and killed,” Jisoo said with a laugh. “I do have a reputation to maintain.”

“I’m sure the tabloid’s number one hot chick will have no trouble replacing me.”

“No one could ever replace you, Mr. Wang, which is why I shall never date another man so long as I live.”

“Good. Though, about Rosé...”

Jisoo studied her best friend for a long moment. Finally, she smiled. “She’s got you seriously whipped.”

“Does not.”

“Does too.”

“Jisoo, I am entirely unwhippable. I’m impervious to— Oh hey,Rosé.”

“Impervious to what?” Rosé asked. She slid closed the glass doors that led into the house and walked over.

“Impervious to acid damage,” Jackson continued smoothly. “And next level, I’ll have a weapon that can freeze up to ten bad guys at once.”

“Oh, not that stupid video game again.” Rosé made a face. “Jisoo, I picked up your dry cleaning and put it in the closet --”

“Just where Jisoo likes things,” Jackson said.

Both Rosé and Jisoo turned to him. Jisoo glared while Rosé just looked confused.

Jackson shrugged. “What? Jisoo is very organized. She likes things in their rightful place.”

“Okay, whatever,” Rosé said, turning back to Jisoo. “And your agent faxed a copy of a new script he wanted you to look at. He also said to call him.”

“Thanks, Rosé.”

Rosé and Jackson exchanged a strange look that Jisoo didn’t understand, but that soon caused Jackson to say, “Um, I’ll be inside. I have to ... um ... file my nails. See ya.”

Jisoo watched him go before turning back to Rosé, who was now sitting on the lounge chair Jackson had previously occupied.

“I know you know that Jackson and I ...” She waved her hands as if that illustrated the rest of the sentence. “And I know you guys have been friends for a really long time, and if you feel that Jackson and I being ... you know ... would interfere with my being your assistant or even your ... friend, then ...”

“Rosé,” Jisoo said, “I really don’t care that you’re sleeping with Jackson. I really wouldn’t care if you guys started dating, or if years from now you got married, had children, and all that jazz. Really. As long as your relationship with him doesn’t affect the work you do for me, then I’ve got no problems with it.”

“Okay, good. I really wouldn’t want to do anything that might make you uncomfortable. I know you care about him—“

“As a friend,” Jisoo quickly interrupted.

“Yeah,” Rosé smiled, though Jisoo could see the uncertainty behind her eyes.

“Rosé,” Jisoo began hesitantly. “The truth is...”

“Look, Jisoo, I understand, really. I know that for whatever reason you don’t want to ‘officially’ date him, but I know it’s only a matter of time before—

“I’m gay,” Jisoo said, interrupting the rest of Rosé’s monologue. She let the word hang in the air between them.

“You... you... you’re...”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Rosé squeaked. She coughed. “Fine. I .. um .. you’re ... I mean ... really?” “Really ... really.”

“And this is ... this is new?”

“Well, I knew when I was fifteen, and now I’m twenty-five so ... I guess it depends what you mean by ‘new’?”

Rosé’s eyes widened. “Fifteen?”

Jisoo would have been amused by Rosé’s reaction had she not been so petrified at the same time. She’d blurted it out without planning to. Almost in the same way she’d told Jackson the day he’d tried to kiss her. Perhaps it was the easiest way to do it; like ripping off a band-aid.

“I’m sorry, Jisoo, I think you’ve short-circuited my brain or something. I honestly had no idea. You’d think my gaydar would be a little sharper, considering...” She chewed on her bottom lip, but opted not to continue.

“Jackson is the only other person who knows,” Jisoo said. “And it’s just ... it’s not something I actively think about or wish to discuss or anything. I just wanted you to know so you wouldn’t think that I was in any way attracted to Jackson.”

“Oh. Is that why he wanted to talk to you? He wanted to convince you to tell me ...”

“It was more of a suggestion,” Jisoo said. “I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t trust you, Rosé. It’s obviously not something I want getting out.”

Rosé looked at Jisoo for a long time. “Thanks for confiding in me,” she said finally. “Really, Jisoo, I ... I’ve always wanted to be more than just your friend—“ Her eyes grew wide, and she quickly said, “Assistant! More than just your assistant.”

Jisoo smiled.

“Sorry, that didn’t come out right at all.” Rosé was blushing, and clearly flustered by her slip-up. “I just meant, that I’ve always wanted to be your friend, and I really appreciate you trusting me with this.” She frowned and shook her head. “I’m just a bit shocked.”

Jisoo didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent. “So ... so, is there ... someone...?”

“No,” Jisoo said. “No one at all.”

“Okay...” Rosé nodded and continued to chew on her bottom lip. “Because I might know some girls that—“

“Rosé...”

“They’d be very discreet.” 

“Please don’t make me hurt you.”

Rosé smiled. “Okay. Well, I guess I’ll leave you to your book.” She stood up. “I’m taking Jackson shopping for a new Xbox controller. He accidentally dropped his in the toilet.” She held up her hands. “Don’t ask.”

“Wasn’t gonna.” Jisoo watched her assistant disappear into the house and sighed to herself. Well, that wasn’t so hard...

~*~

Jisoo paused in the doorway to admire the framed picture hanging over her bed. All day, she had wondered about the email she’d sent out. Had the artist received it? Had she read it? Had she written back? The questions kept coming back as she’d read, as she’d stared out at the ocean, as she’d spoken on the phone. So many times she’d stopped herself from running up to her room to check if there was a response. She’d held back simply out of stubbornness, out of the conviction that the inbox would be empty; out of fear that she would be disappointed if it were.

She crossed the room, tossing the faxed copy of the screenplay on her bed as she passed. She planned on reading it before going to sleep. But, first, she had some lingering questions to put to rest.

The computer hummed to life and Jisoo waited patiently for it to boot up. She leaned back on the chair, her mind elsewhere. She thought of her earlier admission to Rosé, and wondered what repercussions it would have on their working relationship. She had made the right decision, she knew, in telling her assistant, but who would be next, she wondered. How many people would she tell before it became public knowledge? She knew that it was likely that the whole world would eventually find out, but for now, she welcomed the opportunity to hide behind the safety of others’ misperception; to let the media run amuck with rumors and assumptions. She could live with lies about lies. It was the mockery of truth that she knew would hurt. It was the lies laced in truth that she didn’t know if she could handle.

Her desktop image stared patiently at her, and she leaned forward to move the mouse around. With only minimal hesitation, she opened the email account she’d created for the sole purpose of communicating with a complete stranger. Even now, a week later, she felt uncomfortable. Why should she write to an artist in New York whom she’d never seen nor met? What about the artwork on her wall made her want to dig deeper, to go so far as to care?

The browser loaded the page, and it took Jisoo a second longer than necessary to notice the “1” next to “new mail”. She wrote back, Jisoo thought in surprise, wasting no time in opening the message.

When she finished reading, she sat still, wondering whether or not to write back. It would be rude not to, she decided.

Dear Ms. Kang,

The artwork I bought from you was a charcoal sketch you titled “Shadow”. I guess you could say it was love at first sight. I love the way that the figure stands outside the circle of people, while its shadow stands within it. I’m not sure what you meant by it, since, like I said before, I’m hardly an art connoisseur, but I couldn’t help feel like I could relate to that image. To that feeling of being watched but not actually seen.

I hope I haven’t offended you if your intention with the piece was to illustrate something entirely different: childbirth, for instance. I’d feel really dumb if that were the case. I just found it so amazing to be touched by something someone I don’t even know created. I’m afraid that to this day, I’m mostly only ever touched by films.

Anyway, I wanted you to know, just in case you ever wondered if what you were doing was worth it, that to me, a stranger in the West Coast, it certainly is.

All the best, Sooya Kim

PS: if you ever write again, feel free to call me Sooya.

~.~

SEULGI

 It was raining the day Seulgi decided to visit her stepbrother, and she almost opted to put it off for another day. She’d stood at the entrance to her apartment building, holding an umbrella over her head, watching the potholes on the road fill with soiled water. She’d considered turning back around, changing into her pajamas and spending the day making sure that the windows in her bedroom didn’t leak. Then she remembered Chanyeol’s face the day he’d stormed out of her parents’ apartment, and she knew she couldn’t wait another day to talk to him. Already she had waited too long.

During the trip to Queens, she’d sketched the sleeping homeless man stretched out across the seats in front of her. On her way off the train, she tucked a pack of crackers under his arm, feeling sad that she didn’t have anything more to give him.

The wind picked up during her walk to Chanyeol’s apartment building, making her umbrella obsolete. Trying to distract herself from the rain, she tried to think of what to say to Chanyeol once she got to where she was going. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say beyond, “I’m sorry.” The possibility that he might not even be home didn’t enter her mind until she was a block away.

She could have called, Seulgi knew. She could have called and done all of this over the phone. She could have saved herself the trip to Queens, saved herself the awkwardness of facing her stepbrother almost two weeks after his announcement, but she owed him more than a phone conversation. She owed him, at the very least, a hug.

A woman and three of her children were exiting the building as Seulgi approached, and one of the kids was nice enough to hold the door open so Seulgi could sneak in. She thanked the boy with a smile, and voiced her appreciation to the mother, who seemed more irritated than pleased by her son’s gallantry. Seulgi blamed it on the weather.

The umbrella left a trail of raindrops on the floor as she walked inside. It formed a puddle by her feet as she stood in front of Chanyeol’s apartment, staring nervously at the crooked black numbers on the white-painted door. She could hear music coming from the other side.

After a moment, Seulgi knocked.

The music grew louder as the door opened, and Seulgi stared stupidly at the dark eyes looking back at her. “Yes?” said a guy that Seulgi didn’t recognize.

“Hi, I’m sorry, I’m looking for Kang Chanyeol.” she said, wondering if she’d somehow gotten the wrong door, or if Chayeol had moved without telling anyone.

“And you are...?”

“Kang Seulgi,” she said. “I’m—“

“Oh, my God!” he shrieked, his tone rising and his demeanor changing to one of pleasant surprise. “You’re Seul? The Seulgi?” He let the door swing open and he looked Seulgi up and down. “You’re even hotter than your pictures.” He smiled and stretched out his hand. “I’m Baekhyun.”

Seulgi was certain she was missing something, but she shook his hand anyway.

“I know you have no idea who I am,” he said. “But I know all about you. Come in, come in.” He stepped aside. “Chanyeol’s not here right now, but you’re welcome to wait for him. You’re soaked. Do you want a towel or anything?” He disappeared into a room, and the music stopped abruptly.

“Ah, no, thanks. I’m okay,” Seulgi said when Baekhyun emerged.

“Some coffee? Tea?” Baekhyun moved toward the kitchen, which was immediately to the left of the entrance. He cleared a stool by the counter, and motioned for Seulgi to take a seat. “He’s going to be so happy to see you. He’s been all mopey ever since he came out to your folks, and I’ve been telling him, ‘Honey, you have to give them time. They’ll come around,’ and here you are, proving me right.” He arched a brow, looking confused. “Did you say coffee?”

“Um, sure,” Seulgi said. She left the umbrella and her messenger bag on the floor by the door, and stepped into the kitchen to sit down.

“So you’re probably wondering, ‘Who is this gorgeous guy with fabulous hair that’s talking a mile a minute and moving around my step-brother’s apartment like he owns the place’, right?” He didn’t wait for her to answer before continuing. “I, my dear Seulgi, am your brother’s dirty little secret. Or as he likes to call me in public forums, ‘his roommate.’”

Seulgi blinked in surprise. “So you’re his ... his ... ”

“Yes, I am his.” Baekhyun grinned. “And I’m so glad to finally meet you. He talks about you all the time.”

Seulgi instantly felt sad. Why hadn’t Chanyeol told her the truth sooner? Why hadn’t he ever introduced her to Baekhyun before? What else about his life didn’t she know? “I’m glad to meet you, too,” she said sincerely. “I’m sorry if I seem so shocked by all of this, it’s just that Chanyeol never—“

“I know,” Baekhyun said, and placed a cup of coffee in front of Seulgi. “He’s amazingly good at hiding. Do you want milk? Sugar?”

“I like it black, actually. Thanks.” Seulgi stared down at the mug, not really looking at it. When she glanced up, she smiled. “So, how long have you and Chanyeol been together?” 

“A little over two years.”

“Two years?” Seulgi asked in surprise. Why hadn’t he told her? She could understand why he would hide it from her mom and his father, and even Hyunsuk, but her?

Baekhyun smiled sympathetically. “If it makes you feel better, he did want to tell you a long time ago. He was just a big chicken.”

Seulgi merely nodded and sipped at her coffee. She glanced up when she heard the front door click open.

A second later Chanyeol was standing in the doorway, holding a dripping umbrella, and staring in surprise at Seulgi. “Seul,” he said, closing the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood.” She smiled tentatively, and put down the cup. “Thought I’d drop by and apologize for being a horrible sister.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘horrible.’” Chanyeol smiled and stepped forward to give Seulgi a hug. “I’m really happy to see you,” he whispered in her ear, then pulled away. “How are you?”

“Actually, I came to ask you the same question,” Seulgi said and stared up into caramel eyes. “I’m sorry for not coming by sooner. It wasn’t that—

“I know, Seul,” Chanyeol interrupted. “I should have told you sooner. It’s just that I was—“

“A big chicken,” Seulgi supplied.

Chanyeol glanced at Baekhyun and then back at Seulgi. “I see you two have been talking.”

“Girl talk, you know,” Baekhyun said and winked at Seulgi. “Do you want any coffee, baby, I made a fresh pot?”

Chanyeol stiffened and glanced at Seulgi, who only smiled at the exchange between them. “No thanks,” he said after a second.

“Chanyeol, relax,” Seulgi said, laughing at her stepbrother’s nervousness. “If you’re worried about making me uncomfortable, don’t. I live in the Village and go to art school. I know more gay guys than straight ones.”

“Are they cute?” Baekhyun asked.

Chanyeol smacked him on the arm. “Hey!”

“I was just asking!” Baekhyun rubbed his arm. “Meanie.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never seen me as a gay guy before,” Chanyeol said. “I’m still your stepbrother.”

“And you always will be.” Seulgi smiled. “No matter what. Besides, I like Baekhyun much better than that girl you were dating a few years ago. What was her name? Wendy?”

“Wendy?” Baekhyun smiled. “You dated a ‘Wendy?’”

“Not exactly,” Chanyeol said.

“He kept bringing her to family dinners,” Seulgi said. “And I never said anything, but I’m pretty sure she was hitting on me at one point.”

Chanyeol scratched the back of his head. “Ah, yeah, sorry about that.”

“You dated a lesbian?” Baekhyun laughed. “You never told me that.” His eyes widened. “Wait, Wendy? The Wendy we know? The one who was here the other day asking us for ?” Chanyeol coughed.

Seulgi arched an eyebrow. “Okay, this is getting a little too Queer As Folk for me now.”

“So, how’s Sehun?” Chanyeol asked, glaring at his boyfriend. “How’d he take the happy news?”

“Uh.” Seulgi bit her bottom lip. “I haven’t actually told him yet. We haven’t really talked much the past couple of weeks.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

“I’m not sure it’s been paradise for a while,” Seulgi admitted. “Things have been a little strained. Joy thinks I should just break up with him.”

“What’s stopping you?” It was Baekhyun who asked.

Seulgi glanced at him and shrugged. “Not sure. I guess I’m just used to being with him.”

“Dump him,” Baekhyun said. “Dump him quickly. Unless the is really good.” He looked at her expectantly.

Seulgi glanced uncomfortably at Chanyeol. “Uh...”

“Please don’t answer that,” Chanyeol pleaded. He glared at Baekhyun before turning back to Seulgi. “And don’t listen to anyone else. You should do what you feel is right, when you feel it’s right.”

“Yeah,” Seulgi said. The problem was, she was too scared to do what felt right. Guess being a chicken runs in the family.

~*~

Hours later, after a shower and a short, but exhausting phone conversation with Sehun about the possibility of his spending the night, Seulgi sat in bed, alone, with her laptop. Her conversation with Joy regarding Sooya’s gender had sparked Seulgi’s curiosity. She wanted to ask, but she worried that she might inadvertently offend the stranger. And in the end, did it really matter?

She had spent part of the day toying with the possibility of not writing back. What more was there to say? Still, it was rude not to reply. Seulgi only worried that in writing back she might come across as pretentious or self-important. She wasn’t used to talking about her art with anyone that wasn’t Joy, and with Joy, she didn’t care how she came across.

The fishbowl screensaver overtook the monitor while Seulgi decided what to write. She watched the digital fish swim from side to side for several minutes, until finally, she clicked a button.

The compose email screen waited patiently, the cursor ticking away the passing seconds. Biting her lip, Seulgi began to type.

Dear Sooya,

“Shadow” has always been one of my favorite pieces. I hope it doesn’t sound pretentious to say that. It’s just that some of the things I draw or paint turn out to mean more to me than others.

To be honest, I’m not even sure I ever meant to sell it. It must have gotten mixed up with everything else. I guess it might sound weird to say this, but I’m glad that it was sold after all. You’re the first person who’s ever written to me about my work, and it’s really meant a lot to me to hear such positive things from a perfect stranger.

Since I’m being so honest, I guess I can admit that lately I’ve been filled with a lot of insecurities. I’ve always been able to turn to my art as a way to express my deepest fears or my private feelings, but lately I’ve felt stuck. It’s hard, I suppose, to convey a clear message when what you’re feeling is so scattered.

Thank you for saying that my art has been ‘worth it’ to you; I’m glad. I’m not sure that I’m very good at replying to this kind of email, since I have no practice with it. I hope that I’m not coming across as entirely full of myself. I’ve never been very good at taking compliments.

Sincerely, Seulgi

P.S. If you ever write again, please call me Seulgi.