Gahyeon likes math. There is no ambiguity, no grey area. There is one right answer and proven ways to get there.

 

She likes the consistency and control, the reliability. Two plus two equals four and it meant that one hundred years ago and it’ll mean that in the next century.

 

What Gahyeon doesn’t like, however, are parties. They’re loud and chaotic and it’s hard for her to think and breathe when all the noise and commotion gets to her head. 

 

But Gahyeon likes Minji so she reluctantly agreed to go to the party she, Bora, and Handong heard about. (She had said no to her invitations the last few times and as much as Minji tried to hide her deflating spirit, Gahyeon noticed how the brightness in her eyes dimmed just the slightest bit. And, well, Gahyeon hates snuffing that light out so it was only inevitable for her to agree at some point).

 

It’s cute how Minji tries her best to stick around Gahyeon and ease her into the party despite all her friends gravitating towards her lively aura. 

 

(That is until, she was whisked away by her girlfriend for a completely-serious and competitive beer pong match. Minji can never really say no to Bora. And plus, Minji loves beer pong—mostly because she has an unbelievable talent at it. It’s also fun for her to watch the hope and arrogant confidence slip away from the guys who challenge her and jeer at her). 

 

Minji even welcomed her to the party with a ready-made cup of Hennessy and Coke—Minji’s personal favorite drink if she’s looking for a good night. She had stayed long enough to rope Gahyeon into a few rounds of shots, Minji, Bora, and Handong’s friends surrounding her comfortingly, as Handong went around refilling their shot glasses for another go. 

 

It’s a bit odd to her that Siyeon and Yubin are part of the group when Siyeon takes her shot—Yubin content with her Sprite. They are completely unlike Minji, Bora, and Handong. Where Minji and Handong like to wear their false lashes and hoop earrings and fit themselves into alluring skin-tight dresses and thigh-high heels and Bora her Guess striped shirt and ripped jeans and her Nike Air Force 1’s, Siyeon and Yubin like their black leather jackets and black jeans, piercings decorated on her nose, lips, and eyebrows.

 

It’s an interesting conglomeration, campus punks drinking with campus ABG’s and ABB’s. Throw in a mathlete and it’s like the Sparknotes version of high school cliques all over again. But Minji is capable of making friends anywhere—she has the kindness, the excitement, and open-mindedness to have Siyeon’s arm slung over her shoulder, Bora’s around her waist, Gahyeon’s smile shining on her like she is the sun when the warmth in her belly welcomes her to be less scared. 

 

College parties are vastly different, not that Gahyeon would know. (If not for her distaste in parties, she likes to bury herself in her studies. Being the school’s best and most decorated mathlete is no easy feat that comes without practice). But it seems like this party is open to anyone and everyone, faces of many different people mingling around with the likes of those outside of their usual circles.

 

Before Minji leaves for the beer pong tournament—or at least, that’s what Gahyeon thinks Bora said—she tugs Gahyeon close to talk to her, “Gahyeon! If you’re feeling uncomfortable or lonely, my friend, Yoohyeon, is by the window close to the kitchen! She’s Siyeon and Yubin’s friend and she’s great company!”

 

When Minji points towards the window, she continues, “She’s about my height and has silver hair! You can’t miss her!”

 

There at the end of Minji’s finger, is Yoohyeon. Leaning against the wall with a red cup in her hand, her observant eyes flicker here and there. Minji lowers her head to talk by Gahyeon’s ear again, the music making it hard to be heard, “She’s not big on crowds so if you’re looking for an escape, she’s your girl! Just tell her you’re my friend and she’ll open up to you. A little bit. She’s kinda tough to crack but she’s nice; don’t worry!”

 

And maybe, if Gahyeon didn’t just drink three shots of Hennessy (and chased with White Claw—yeah, that’s the kind of night she’s having) on top of the drink Minji made for her upon her arrival, she would have immediately taken Minji’s offer. But alcohol is a curious enabler, her usual disapproval for parties and people gone with the wind. So, when Siyeon looks for a drinking partner for another shot, Gahyeon has no qualms offering her shot glass and quickly gulping it down, chasing with her grapefruit seltzer.

 

Some shots and many bathroom runs later with Handong, Bora, or Minji tagging along with her (because the buddy system is a magnificent thing), the room starts moving in slow-motion and the lights and music all kind of blur together in a hazy kaleidoscope of color. Needing some air, Gahyeon stumbles towards what she thinks is the window that would be her safe-space, a Yoohyeon shaped body no longer leaning against the wall. It’s peaceful for a while—Gahyeon even gets the time to zone off with her phone, until a hand comes to rest beside her head. Looking up, a man leans towards her, the red flush in his cheeks and the swaying of his body telling enough of his inebriation.

 

Slurring his words when he stumbles closer, Gahyeon has to push him away. “Hey beautiful, what’re you doin’ here alone?”

 

Smiling politely, Gahyeon moves further away from him, her foggy mind slowly warning her of the red alarms flashing in her mind. While she slowly stumbles on her words, the man just edges even closer, “Just- uh, getting some air.”

 

The man smirks cockily, looks constipated when he winks at her, “I can take care of you. Someone as y as you shouldn’t be by herself.”

 

The nagging fear in Gahyeon’s body begs her to come to come to sobriety. The alcohol laced in her blood ignores its pleads. Having trouble thinking of a rebuttal, anything to get him far away from her, Gahyeon feels herself freeze. 

 

Parties can really ing .

 

Gahyeon is slow to notice the hand advancing towards her, his grubby paw trying to reach for her waist, when a hand forcefully turns him away. Behind him, Yoohyeon stands confidently, calm and collected eyes briefly glancing back at Gahyeon before turning defiant and challenging when she looks back at the man. Now that she’s closer, Gahyeon notices the septum and eyebrow piercings that glint a reflection of the light bouncing around the room.

 

(She looks good in them. Or she makes them look good on her. Gahyeon isn’t too sure which it is that she means).

 

“Minji’s telling everyone she annihilated you at beer pong last time. She said you airballed more than she had to drink throughout the whole night. That’s embarrassing since she drinks like a ing tank.”

 

It seems like her words are enough to distract him as he angrily stomps his way towards the beer pong table where Minji will definitely beat him in a game since she still hasn’t lost a single match and she has, for sure, drank enough to take out a cow by now.

 

Taking her place by the window, Yoohyeon leans against the wall with a quiet air of coolness.

 

“Thank you. For doing that.”

 

Yoohyeon just shoots a small and polite smile, her eyes looking at everything but Gahyeon, before she pulls out her phone.

 

“I gotta go. Siyeon’s being a handful. But, if you need me, call me and I’ll be there.”

 

Before Yoohyeon leaves, she doesn’t do so without handing her an object. Looking at it, on the cardboard scrap of a pizza box, the scrawling of ten digits stare back at her. Deciding to input it on her phone just in case, Yoohyeon’s number sits number one on her Favorites list.

 

Thankfully, while Yoohyeon is away, no one else comes to bother Gahyeon. It’s a bit of a spectacle, watching Yubin and Yoohyeon chase Siyeon around, tugging her down from tables and stopping her from taking off her shirt, trying to stop frustrated beer pong players from advancing a victorious Minji and Bora, taking away the Hennessy bottle in Handong’s hand when she calls for more shots. 

 

Maybe it’s better that Gahyeon stops drinking, the mess that is this high school cliche reminding her why parties weren’t her taste. 

 

She doesn’t like losing control.

 

And parties, for most, meant losing control.

 

By the end of the night, Gahyeon has sobered up enough to think clearly, Bora and Handong sloppily leaning against her while Yoohyeon tugs along a hyper Minji.

 

(Siyeon and Yubin have long gone by now, Yubin pushing away Siyeon’s wandering hands and avoiding her pursed lips and whines for affection when they announced their departure. Siyeon, Gahyeon realized, isn’t as scary as she looks. If anything, she’s like a cute, cuddly teddy bear dressed up in a leather jacket and piercings).

 

(Minji has taken off her false lashes by now, safely pocketed in Yoohyeon’s leather jacket, her thigh-high heels traded for Yoohyeon’s combat boots. If it were up to Minji, she could go a few more hours, but, her feet are ing killing her and she’s getting sick of seeing her lashes at the top of her vision).

 

Even if the walk back to Minji, Bora, and Handong’s dorm is relatively short, it isn’t easy lugging along Bora and Handong, their weight heavy on Gahyeon. And poor Yoohyeon, she has to chase after Minji in her thigh-highs and it’s an infinitely silly sight to watch Yoohyeon run after her in her white heels and leather jacket while Minji shoots off in her dress and Yoohyeon’s combat boots.

 

(Yoohyeon is unexpectedly and almost frighteningly quick, her pace effortlessly matching Minji’s and wrangling her back to Gahyeon).

 

After the commotion, Minji abruptly stops, pouts, and whines, “I’m tired!”

 

Yoohyeon only sighs exasperatedly, “If I’m carrying you, give me back my shoes.”

 

Minji beams and cheers happily before sitting down and tugging Yoohyeon’s boots off, Yoohyeon shrugging off her jacket to prevent Minji from flashing anyone when her dress rides up.

 

Laughing amusedly while Bora and Handong doze off on her, Gahyeon adjusts her hold on their waists, “Is she always like this?”

 

Sock-clad with Minji’s heels left beside her, Yoohyeon shakes her head, “Not always.”

 

(As soon as Minji stands up, Yoohyeon lifts Minji’s arms so that they stand pointed to the sky. Wrapping her jacket around her waist and tying it, it’s as if the two are familiar with this routine when Minji tightens the knot as Yoohyeon turns around to squat at a lower height for her).

 

Gahyeon can’t help but to laugh again when Yoohyeon loudly grunts as Minji, literally, hops onto her back. As Yoohyeon smoothly lowers down to pick up her heels, Minji’s bare feet dangle sloppily while she sleepily rests her head on Yoohyeon’s shoulder, draped over her like a lazy and cuddly koala.

 

“Hold your heels, Minji. I can’t carry them for you.”

 

Minji whines back indignantly, “Yoohyeonnieeee, please!”

 

(Yoohyeon just sighs, clutches them tightly in her hands when they begin to walk again. Before they can get too far, Yoohyeon asks Gahyeon to check if Minji is decently covered from the back—she is).

 

Yoohyeon chokes a little along the way.

 

“Minji, I am not going to drop you. Stop choking me!”

 

When Minji speaks, Gahyeon can hear the pout tugging on her lips, “But, I’m scared, Yooh!”

 

“I literally can’t breathe, Minji. Loosen up a little!”

 

(Minji’s arms rest limp and loose around Yoohyeon’s neck).

 

For the most part, Bora, Handong, and Gahyeon fill up the silence with mindless talks about what they are currently craving. (Greasy as all hell kimchijeon and sweet sikhye). Gahyeon notices that Yoohyeon just silently walks beside them, keeping to herself. Even when Gahyeon extends the conversation to her, she’s brief and short with her responses.

 

Somehow, despite spending the last hour or so with Yoohyeon, the only things Gahyeon knows about her are her name and number. Then, there’s her kindness and quiet chivalry, but Gahyeon is still left intrigued, wanting to know more about this mysterious woman.

 

As soon as Bora is able to stand up on her own, she wordlessly ambles over to relieve Yoohyeon of Minji’s heels with one hand and the other softly running through her girlfriend’s hair.

 

(Minji and Bora are one hell of a pair. They study together, eat together, party together, live together. If it weren’t for their affinity for raves and drinking and letting loose in such a remarkable manner, Gahyeon would confuse them for a married couple who has their life together.

 

But, as such, the messy life of youth and being an ABG and ABB are compelling to the pair.

 

It’s funny to Gahyeon how Minji and Bora used to be playgirls when they were single in the past, stringing along everyone and anyone who entertained them enough, until they found comfort and love in each other—endless laughter and adventure in each other.

 

Gahyeon thinks she has never seen Minji or Bora so happy before finding each other, thinks that they deserve it—to be in love, to wear happiness like a favorite sweater).

 

It’s a miracle that they’re able to drop the three off at their dorm without much more hassle, Minji peacefully asleep on Yoohyeon’s back, Bora and Handong slowly getting more of their coordination and sense back.

 

When Bora adamantly insists that Gahyeon take the extra bed in their dorm room (since she likes to sleep in Minji’s bed anyway) because it’s too dangerous to be walking alone at night, Yoohyeon leaves with the reassurance that everyone is safely taken care of. And when Bora tries to persuade Yoohyeon too, the girl just gratefully turns down her offer and disappears into the night.

 

Before Gahyeon slips off into sleep, the last things she thinks about are how pretty Yoohyeon looked with her wavy hair, how her small smile made Gahyeon feel a little safer.

 

(Her dream blurs those thoughts and throws them into a murky, sleep-induced haze).

 

-

 

Gahyeon likes sitting smack dab in the middle of her lecture hall. It’s the perfect place to blend in and get lost—to just be another pair of eyes looking back at the professor. The front is much too close, and the back is constantly monitored for folks who doze off and play around—not that Gahyeon would fault them. History of Early Mathematics is a snooze fest on its worst days and if Gahyeon didn’t have to take it, she wouldn’t.

 

But, alas, being a math major destined this life for her. 

 

Normally, she can power through the lecture without much problem but Gahyeon isn’t normally hungover. When she sleepily jolts in her seat, she hopes that the jerking of her body wasn’t too noticeable. Casting a small look around, it seems like no one noticed—or no one cared enough to notice.

 

However, Gahyeon does notice a familiarly unfamiliar face.

 

The last time she checked, Yoohyeon wasn’t in this class. But, there, in the last seat of the last row of the hall, a head of silver-hair paying attentive focus to the professor diligently writes the notes on the board. 

 

If this lecture wasn’t already such a drag, the urge to catch Yoohyeon’s attention hangs a heavy weight on the minute hand of the clock at the front of the hall.

 

(Still, Gahyeon doesn’t find herself nodding off anymore, her mind no longer dwelling on sleep when it’s too busy thinking about the girl in the corner of the room).

 

When class ends, Gahyeon barely catches Yoohyeon as she is leaving, her hands adjusting her Airpods. In a last-ditch effort to get her attention, Gahyeon stands on the tips of her toes in hopes that Yoohyeon will notice her in the wave of students spilling out of the lecture hall, “Yoohyeon!”

 

Like her voice is a magnet to Yoohyeon’s ears, she swivels her head towards Gahyeon’s direction, her eyes searching for her in the crowd. Eyes widening in recognition, Yoohyeon shuffles off to the side to wait for Gahyeon to catch up to her. 

 

“I didn’t know you were in this class!”

 

Yoohyeon simply shrugs, adjusts the straps of her backpack as they walk through the halls of the university. “I’m not. But Yubin asked if I could take notes for her.”

 

As the hallway narrows to adhere to a two-way stream, Yoohyeon falters a step to walk slightly behind Gahyeon, letting her lead the way. Gahyeon briefly glances back at her when she speaks, “That’s really sweet of you! It’s nice to have someone who’ll do that for you.” 

 

It’s a flash of shock but Gahyeon catches it anyway, like Yoohyeon has never associated those words with herself. But just as slight as a wink, Yoohyeon is back to her usual nonchalant stare, quickly parting ways without much notice—a mere nod when she turns a corner. 

 

There’s something about Yoohyeon—something that quietly whispers away into the wind, something that Gahyeon quite can’t reach, something she doesn’t want to miss. 

 

Because at first glance, Yoohyeon isn’t the most welcoming: cold gaze, quiet, detached. All the black and piercings and tough-girl look wards off any attention. It’s not that she looks intimidating, not like how Siyeon does. But, in her outward aloof appearance, it seems that Yoohyeon is separate from reality, like she floats on by without much to say, without much to give to the world. 

 

Yet, in one night, Gahyeon has already seen that Yoohyeon has so much to offer, so much that she is willing to give. It’s no easy feat, taking care of a drunk Minji. (It’s not that Gahyeon has had to take care of Minji before because even when blasted beyond mind, some part of Minji is adamant about not being a burden to her. But, Minji has drunkenly shown up at her door sometime past midnight—Bora and Handong in tow—to check in on her. Gahyeon has had to walk her back to her dorm because she stumbled so much that she worried that Minji would fall and become close friends with the concrete). 

 

As challenging as it may be watching over a drunk Minji, it’s nearly monstrous considering the spectacular influence she has on a Drunk Bora. (Drunk Minji is more than capable of provoking a Drunk Bora—and a Drunk Minji and Drunk Bora wreaking havoc together makes nightmares look like dreams). Yet, as Minji drunkenly swayed and shouted and played around last night, Yoohyeon seemed to have settled into her role seamlessly without any hesitance, without a single ounce of genuine exasperation or annoyance.

 

No, there is something so blaringly loud about Yoohyeon’s quiet kindness and steady reliability.

 

It’s impossible for Gahyeon to ignore.

 

And Gahyeon loves figuring the most confounding of things out, loves understanding the layers and finding the beauty in complexity.

 

It’s why she loves math.

 

There is always something to work out, problems with steps that seem arduous to get through, but there is satisfaction in finally understanding its layers.

 

And Yoohyeon isn’t math, Gahyeon knows that. She’s much greater than numbers and equations.

 

But she’s perplexing, mesmerizingly.

 

And Gahyeon wants to understand her.

 

-

 

Gahyeon admits it's an ambitious goal to understand someone who is illusive and nearly impossible to find throughout all of campus. (And it’s not like she can spontaneously text Yoohyeon. What would she even say? Certainly not that she is seeking her out just to talk with her). Even where Siyeon and Yubin linger, Yoohyeon is nowhere to be found. And when asked, the two just shrug and offer a list of possible places she could be.

 

“I don’t know. Maybe the library? Some tree somewhere? She’s not particular. She likes the quiet.”

 

“You might find her around the CLA buildings. All her classes are there.”

 

So, Gahyeon checks the library in between her classes even if it’s a long shot because it’s an even longer shot to peruse her large campus for lofty and shady trees away from the commotion of students and events.

 

(Still, Gahyeon finds herself spending her gap hour walking along the cobbled ground of the south side of her campus—far along from where she needs to be for her next class when she reaches the College of Liberal Arts section of her university.

 

She couldn’t help but to be hopeful to find Yoohyeon here. From Siyeon’s information, Yoohyeon majors in Sociology and frequents this part of campus because all of her classes are located here).

 

It’s like trying to find the smallest needle in a haystack and Yoohyeon isn’t as easily detectable with a magnet like a needle is.

 

But Gahyeon remembers this.

 

Yoohyeon likes the quiet and everyone knows that the quietest place on campus is the Japanese Gardens located on the west side.

 

Gahyeon thinks she might have used all her year’s worth of luck when she enters the garden because, there, lo and behold, is Yoohyeon peacefully sitting on a bench by the koi pond. Resting in her hands as her eyes sweep along its pages, a book is the only thing occupying Yoohyeon’s attention.

 

The Subtle Art of Not Giving a , Gahyeon notices as she approaches her.

 

It doesn’t take much for Yoohyeon’s attention to float to her. It’s quiet and Gahyeon’s steps are foreign sounds to that of the trickling of the small waterfall and chirping of birds. Yoohyeon’s pierced eyebrow slightly arches at Gahyeon’s presence—a silent question.

 

“Learning how to not give a ?”

 

It’s the first time Yoohyeon smiles out of subconscious reflex, like she is genuinely humored. And her smile doesn’t disappear just as quick as it came. It stays long enough for Gahyeon to smile back at her.  

 

(Gahyeon thinks she might’ve heard the punctured exhale of a laugh, wonders when she’ll pull a proper and loud one from her). 

 

It’s incredibly comforting. Unexpectedly.

 

Yoohyeon shifts to the side even if there is already plenty of room beside her, closes her book after putting her bookmark between its pages, “Trying to.”

 

(Her bookmark is shaped like a dog, its ears sticking out from the top of the book).

 

Sitting beside her, Yoohyeon awkwardly twirls the ring around her pointer finger, her eyes trained to her hand.

 

“I’m not bothering you, am I?”

 

Yoohyeon shoots her a look before rapidly shaking her head no and fitting a small smile on her lips.

 

“What uh- what brings you here?”

 

Yoohyeon looks so out of her element, like a child trying on their mother’s heels for the first time and attempting to strut.

 

It’s cute.

 

Now, Gahyeon could tell Yoohyeon that she has spent the last week trying to find her but concludes that that might sound, only slightly, obsessive.

 

“I was looking for some quiet. This is the quietest place I know outside of the library. I’ve spent so many hours in there cramming for my competition that I got sick of it.”

 

And, yeah, Gahyeon was looking for quiet to find Yoohyeon but, Gahyeon figures that the half-truth is still the truth.

 

When Yoohyeon slightly turns her head and flicks her eyes towards her, she hastily turns back, her eyes running away from her gaze when she finds that Gahyeon is already looking.

 

“You’re at the right place. I come here when I want to read undisturbed.”

 

Yoohyeon looks so painfully tense that Gahyeon wonders if she’s overstepping, wonders if Yoohyeon forfeited her silence to accommodate her presence. “Are you sure I’m not bothering you?”

 

This time, Yoohyeon smiles again, kindly, her body slowly softening when Gahyeon mirrors a smile back.

 

“Stay, if you’d like.”

 

And even if Gahyeon is sick of reviewing her notes, she pulls her notebook out to study seventeenth century arithmetic while Yoohyeon opens up her book to sink into its pages.

 

(Maybe if Gahyeon isn’t so preoccupied with her notes, she would notice the long lingering look coming from beside her, Yoohyeon’s soft and charmed smile, the bright glow of her gaze).

 

Between them, only the fluttering of turned pages occupy the quiet. It’s serene and it feels a little bit like a piece of heaven—Gahyeon considers ditching her next class just to savor this moment a little longer, to be beside Yoohyeon for a little longer. 

 

There’s something about Yoohyeon, something about her that radiates comfort and ease. Even if she isn’t warm and talkative like Minji or lively and playful as Bora, Gahyeon craves to be around her—wishes to spend all her hours slowly unveiling the layers shielding the girl.

 

It might be ambitious, cracking into someone like Yoohyeon—shy, indifferent, stiff. 

 

But Gahyeon’s awfully ambitious when she wants to be.

 

And she wants Yoohyeon.

 

-

 

The library is a popular place when midterms arrive. And with the mathematical olympiad coming up for Gahyeon, she is spending the majority of her time shacked up on the fifth floor studying and preparing for her competition and exams.

 

Reluctantly, she puts her Get to Know Yoohyeon mission on the backburner, her academics taking precedent. Mostly because she can’t afford to fail or come out of this competition without a medal. A bit of it is her own pride, a lot of it is being someone her parents can be proud of. Everyone has their own role in life and Gahyeon’s is the studious, successful student—the one whose flourishing future builds upon her steadfast education. 

 

(Gahyeon has made some progress since the Japanese Garden. She was able to pry out a boisterous and high-pitched laugh upon the third week of knowing her—it quickly became Gahyeon’s greatest pride, Yoohyeon’s laugh her most favorite sound. A month has passed and Yoohyeon isn’t as awkward and rigid around her—a little more comfortable, a little bolder with playing around, purposely putting herself in embarrassing situations just to make Gahyeon laugh). 

 

During her “too many, I can’t count” hour and her nth study break, it’s as if she is energized by the likes of five Monster drinks and a Five Hour Energy shot when Yoohyeon walks through the doors of the library. And perhaps, it’s the wear of studying for too long that Gahyeon texts her, her body impulsively calling for the relief that she finds in Yoohyeon.

 

Gahyeon: Yoohyeon!! To your left!!

 

Gahyeon watches as Yoohyeon reaches her phone, her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, before she casts her eyes to her left. In the sea of people, it takes her a moment to find Gahyeon and her circle-wired glasses, her bright and beautiful smile shining at her.

 

(And Yoohyeon’s heart isn’t made out of steel. It’s impossible to not smile back, to not give back the warmth that Gahyeon radiates).

 

Moving her backpack off the table and patting at the empty space beside her, Gahyeon feels oddly victorious when Yoohyeon settles in beside her, like she won some kind of prize. 

 

Yoohyeon even looks slightly grateful, for what Gahyeon doesn’t know, when she greets her.

 

(It’s almost bewildering how Yoohyeon’s mere presence feels just as blissful as an award, might even beat out the feeling of being handed a shiny trophy from her math competitions).

 

Just like in the Japanese Garden, there is a comfortable silence that the two relish in as they study together, Gahyeon’s focus sharper than before, renewed with a spirit that urges her to do well. That is, until a heavy sigh sounds out beside her. 

 

With her forehead propped on her hand, the other twirling her pen, Yoohyeon looks so disgruntled and frustrated with her eyebrows knit together in confusion. Looking at her notes, the familiar signage of beta and p < .05, Gahyeon knows all too well what Yoohyeon is attempting to understand.

 

“Stats?”

 

Yoohyeon even groans at the subject name, her annoyance with it clear as day. “I’ve been trying to work this out and I keep getting the wrong answer and I don’t know where I’m messing up.”

 

Glancing at her work and the chart of information she wrote out, the error is easy for her to find. Pointing at the math done under a square root, Gahyeon counts the numbers listed in her chart and ones written out, “Your summation is wrong. I think you missed a data point in your set.”

 

When Yoohyeon squints at her work and trails her pencil along her data set, it’s as if she lights up when she finds the missing point. Quickly plugging it into her calculator and working out the rest of the problem, Yoohyeon slumps in relief when she ends up with the right answer. Before Gahyeon can go back to her work, a hand timidly reaches out to place itself by her notes to catch her attention, just inches away from her own hand.

 

“Thanks, Gahyeon. It would have taken me forever to catch that.”

 

(The temptation to reach out with her pinky, to graze her finger along Yoohyeon’s, is tremendous—impossible to ignore. The desire to feel her seems to take her over, Gahyeon’s resolve crumbling quickly diminishing into nothing).

 

Tentatively placing her hand on top of Yoohyeon’s reassuringly, Gahyeon thinks she feels her heart rate sprint behind her chest, feels its pounding in . (Even if Yoohyeon looks alarmed by the contact, she doesn’t move to retract her hand, her eyes nervously fluttering between their hands and Gahyeon).

 

“Don’t worry about it, Yooh. It’s nice to not look at derivatives for once.”

 

(If Gahyeon noticed the subconscious shortening of her name, the slip would have been enough to freeze her up. Meanwhile, the breezy reassurance and the friendly nickname seems to catch Yoohyeon off guard, her breath briefly catching in ).

 

Yoohyeon grimaces at the graphs littered around in Gahyeon’s notes, “Math has never been my strongest subject. I barely even remember pre-calc. I just remember suffering a lot in that class.” It’s like the pain of her memories comes back to color her eyes and the laugh that bubbles behind Gahyeon’s throat is unstoppable, her other hand coming up to hide her grin.

 

Reflexively, a smile tugs at Yoohyeon’s lips, mischief in her eyes with her eyebrows arched, “You laugh at my misery?”

 

(Considering that this is the most of Yoohyeon Gahyeon has seen, the most open she has been with her, she relishes in the joy of finally getting a longer peek at the illusive girl that has been on her mind like a post-it note reminding her of what to do).

 

Taking the opportunity to joke along, Gahyeon smirks playfully, makes a small gap between her thumb and point finger, and squints between it, Yoohyeon’s amused grin lighting her up inside, “Only a little.”

 

Yoohyeon pouts—Gahyeon has to look twice to make sure she isn’t hallucinating—and lightheartedly nudges her shoulder against Gahyeon’s, “Not everyone can be a genius mathlete like you, Gahyeon-ah.”

 

(Honestly, Gahyeon thinks she might’ve somehow made groundbreaking process because it doesn’t seem realistic for Yoohyeon to be playing around with her and saying her name so affectionately and wait, how did Yoohyeon know about her being a mathlete?) 

 

It’s unfair how Yoohyeon makes her name sound so precious, how she pulls Gahyeon even deeper into her in a single breath.

 

It feels almost reckless, to blindly sink into everything that is Yoohyeon. But, as thrilling as it is, it feels safe—like there aren’t monsters that’ll pull her under, only the subtle warmth from the embers within Yoohyeon comforting her).

 

“You know about that? Me being a mathlete?”

 

Yoohyeon blushes a light pink that is only noticeable by the fluorescent lighting of the library.

 

“Bora brags about you a lot. She’s really proud of you.”

 

Like a light flickering on, Gahyeon beams at that, feels affectionate fondness tide her over—Bora has always been so good at supporting her.

 

“Well, if you ever need help with anything, I’m your girl!”

 

Quirking an eyebrow, Yoohyeon seems incredulous, “Even if I’m hopeless at math?”

 

Gahyeon just grins, the one where her eyes disappear into crescents, “I’ve enough hope for the both of us until you believe in yourself!”

 

Yoohyeon looks amazed for a second, a quiet inhale reminding her to breathe, before turning back to her notes with a happy smile pulling at her lips. Even when Gahyeon turns back too, it’s like her eyes refuse to tear away as her head stays tilted towards Yoohyeon to savor the bliss of seeing her smile. And when Yoohyeon sneaks a look back, Yoohyeon’s soft gaze quickly shoots away when she finds Gahyeon’s already looking back at her. As if she is startled, Yoohyeon hastily anchors her stare back to her paper.

 

(Something shifted. Gahyeon feels it. Like the gentle swinging of Newton’s cradle—for every reaction, an equal and opposite reaction, an undeniable Law of Motion that precedes a chain of transformation—Gahyeon feels that something has changed, something splendidly divine). 

 

Shifting the hand that still rests underneath Gahyeon’s so that her fingers fall between the gaps of Yoohyeon’s, Yoohyeon’s fingers curl ever so slightly into a timid and tentative hold, her scarlet cheeks burning behind the silver curtain of her hair.

 

Even if Gahyeon is extremely dominant with her right hand, she figures that her left is capable of graphing out derivatives. Messily and almost illegibly. But possible. And that’s all that matters.

 

(Yoohyeon’s hand under hers, their fingers loosely laced together, is soft and warm; it’s all Gahyeon can focus on—to hell with studying derivatives).

 

-

 

It’s a full house for Gahyeon when she finishes her mathematics olympiad. (She won in all the events she participated in, as she hoped she would. Gahyeon wouldn’t admit it, she’s too humble to, but “mathlete genius” is no exaggeration—it's a well-earned title). Outside waiting for her, Minji, Bora, Siyeon, Handong, Yubin, and even Yoohyeon eagerly look out for her, a bouquet of flowers in Bora’s arms. It’s a lot, being lost in a sea of arms hugging her and congratulating her when they find her, bar Yoohyeon, but Gahyeon loves it—loves feeling loved, loves feeling treasured.  

 

(Gahyeon still catches the bright grin Yoohyeon wears, the eyes that affectionately glow on her, the gentle brushing of her arm when they walk side by side, a helmet held in her other arm).

 

Celebratory dinners are one of Gahyeon’s favorites. This time, it’s Korean barbecue and that means Minji and Bora primarily grilling the meat, Handong buying enough soju and beer to last their entire meal, and eating until she worries that she’ll have to her pants. But, more than anything, these dinners are jubilant and carefree, everything Gahyeon needs to unwind and relax after pushing herself and working hard.

 

(Siyeon and Yubin are relatively new to their group, but they seemed to have eased their way in smoothly, Siyeon temporarily taking the tongs so that Minji and Bora can eat, Yubin cutting the bigger pieces of meat with the shears and feeding Siyeon big bundles of perilla leaves, meat, and kimchi—the works—as she grills).

 

While Bora hands Minji her keys from her pocket, Minji does a mental headcount, “One of you are gonna have to ride with Yoohyeonnie. My car can’t take all of you.”

 

And Gahyeon, ever the enthusiast she is to spend more time with Yoohyeon, immediately volunteers.

 

(Gahyeon wonders if it’s volunteering if she doesn’t see any sacrifice in her choice. If anything, her desire to be around Yoohyeon borders selfishness).

 

When Yoohyeon reaches out to softly hold onto her elbow, concerned eyes look back at her, “Are you sure? I brought my bike.”

 

And sure, Gahyeon has never ridden a motorcycle before and that makes her nervous but somehow, if Yoohyeon is the one driving it, her nerves only feel like adrenaline and excitement. “I don’t mind! I trust you!”

 

Yoohyeon’s step seems to stutter, her lips slightly parting in shock. A soft, “Oh,” sounds out, like she hadn’t meant to let it go. “Okay. I can- uh…” She trails off, so transparently flustered by Gahyeon’s blunt admission, before continuing, “Follow me.”

 

Gahyeon subconsciously loops her arm through Yoohyeon’s as they walk to her bike, the leather of Yoohyeon’s jacket cool on her skin.

 

Gahyeon didn’t know what she was expecting but Yoohyeon’s motorcycle is black and sleek, undeniably badass in a breathtaking way—especially with Yoohyeon standing next to it in her leather jacket and ripped jeans, her septum and eyebrow piercings glinting off the sun’s rays. Propping the seat open, Yoohyeon pulls out another helmet, “Wear this and hold me tight.” As Yoohyeon straddles her motorcycle, Gahyeon thinks she might be lucid dreaming because there’s no way that this could be real—no way Yoohyeon could be this hot. But, as she swings her leg over the bike and she wraps her arms tightly around Yoohyeon’s waist, Gahyeon finds that this life is real, that Yoohyeon is this hot. And smells really good. This Gahyeon comes to know when her nose comes terribly close to nuzzling into her neck—it’s nearly impossible not to.  

 

(The light musk of sweet vanilla and sandalwood is addicting, so incredibly comforting).

 

Putting on the helmet does wonders at fighting the temptation. When Yoohyeon turns back to check on her, Gahyeon thinks she sees the upturned corner of a smile. Reaching over to push down the visor, Yoohyeon’s voice is breezy, “Don’t want anything getting in your eyes.” 

 

(When Gahyeon smiles at her, she can see the wrinkles of her smile in Gahyeon’s eyes, her own grin grows larger behind her helmet at the sight).

 

Yoohyeon’s voice is muffled behind her helmet, but Gahyeon hears her well enough, “Ready?”

 

When Gahyeon subconsciously squeezes Yoohyeon’s waist in anticipation and nods, it’s only her verbal confirmation that gets Yoohyeon to kick up her stand and start the engine. 

 

Yoohyeon drives cautiously, warning Gahyeon when she gets onto the main street. “I’m gonna start to go faster, okay? If you need to, just hold as tight as you want.”

 

Gahyeon finds that she doesn’t need to hold on any tighter, Yoohyeon’s driving being smooth and reliable. But why would she turn down such a generous offer? So, she squeezes just the slightest bit tighter, presses her front flat against Yoohyeon’s back.

 

(Gahyeon hopes that Yoohyeon takes the ferocious beating of her heart for anything other than their close proximity, hopes that Yoohyeon just thinks she’s nervous about being on a bike, and definitely not about how she  

 

(Sh