Fabric conditioner, that’s how it smells — mixed with something citrusy. Not too controversial like lemon, but not too saccharine like orange either. This one smells… subdued, like… like tangerines. Lingering on Chaeryeong’s skin like a memory she couldn’t let go, a reminder of soft lips and worried glances — whisker dimples that come whenever she tries not to smile.

 

Chaeryeong plays with the sleeves of the hoodie, a delicate ‘RJ’ sewed on it.

 

“I met Ryujin outside,” Chaeyeon hums, crossing her arms on her chest, leaning on Chaeryeong’s doorway with her party clothes on. She looks well put and questionably sober despite her “I’m going to party and drown myself in alcohol work” sentiment earlier.

 

Chaeryeong snapped out of her thoughts, focusing back to writing notes again, “Yeah… she,” She coughs, flicking her pen nonchalantly “she stopped by.”

 

“Chaeryeong,” Chaeyeon sighs, “it’s two o’clock.”

 

“I’m fully aware of the time, unnie.”

 

“You’re being stupid,” Chaeyeon reprimands, “and irresponsible, you know that right?” She walks towards Chaeryeong’s study table with a scowl that looks quite similar to the one their mom wears whenever she’s mad.

 

Chaeryeong bit her lip, “I know that.”

 

“Then why are you still—”

 

“Because it’s convenient,” sleeping with Ryujin without any attachment is convenient. A bit selfish and self-indulgent too, on Chaeryeong’s part.

 

She likes being with Ryujin — screw it, she loves Ryujin. And Chaeryeong knows that her feelings transcend all worldly sense and that she couldn’t possibly explain the laws and science of her falling in love — certain that her words would just come out as a tangled mess, an array of letters lost in a sea of emotions but she guesses she could… try.

 

So here it goes, I’m in love with Ryujin.

 

It’s something that Chaeryeong has dwelled on for so long until it eventually became a part of her, molding into existence like the scar she got when she jumped from a tree; painful at the time but oddly satisfying now. The high and adrenaline, the fear of shattering herself into pieces, of not being able to pull herself up — it’s all thrilling.

 

And she feels alive and bold and out of her box, widening her horizon and growing—

 

“You’re a coward,” Chaeyeon hisses, pulling her back.

 

Chaeryeong blinks, she could now see how inebriated Chaeyeon is. Her words reek of alcohol and exhaustion, “you like convenience because you couldn’t count on yourself to own what you want.”

 

“That’s not true,” Chaeryeong’s face hardened, she balled her fist and avoided her sister’s gaze. Trying not to engage, because clearly, Chaeyeon is drunk.

 

“Yes, it is.” Chaeyeon laughs, her expression teetering between concern and frustration, “I love you. But— I just… I couldn’t watch you settling for less when you know that it could be more. If you want it, go for it. Dive head on.” She slaps Chaeryeong cheeks gently, “shake the table, Ryeong,” a hiccup, “shake the damn table, so things would ing fall into their place.”

 

If only it’s that easy.

 

“Oh, that pizza is getting cold,” Chaeyeon hiccups again, “do you mind if I take two slices?”

 

—

 

High school is a horrible time for everyone.

 

The braces, breakouts and impulsive haircuts — the cliques, Chaeryeong’s b insecurities, it also didn’t help that the other kids were particularly mean, going through their “cool and edgy” phase, Chaeryeong thinks they were just straight up s.

 

It’s a good thing she has her own circle of friends. Not exactly the nicest people out there but they are… tolerable. And they can be a bunch of s too, not like that’s something to brag about but hey, at least Chaeryeong knows they are real.

 

(see: Lia pulled up a mean streak when she found out Chaeryeong got her braces fixed without her, Yeji didn’t talk to her for days when she ate the last chocolate bar from the vending machine and sometimes Ryujin can be Ryujin — but that’s a completely different story)

 

However, they are Chaeryeong’s s, and they get her, and she gets them, fitting like peas in a long pod since diaper days.

 

Chaeryeong bit her lip when she arrived at the cafeteria earlier than planned; she spotted Ryujin sitting on their usual spot, balancing a bottle on her head like an idiot.

 

“Where’s Yeji unnie?” She asks fixing her bag on the next chair, trying to make the atmosphere liveable for both of them.

 

“Out in practice,” Ryujin says, not even bothering to spare her a glance, “where’s Lia unnie?”

 

“Choir,” Chaeryeong whispers, “should we wait for them?”

 

Ryujin shrugs, “I think Yeji unnie is eating lunch with the team.”

 

“Okay,” Chaeryeong murmurs, “then let’s eat. I don’t think Lia unnie would mind either. I still have a paper to review anyways.”

 

“Gosh,” Ryujin says theatrically, “academic over friends. Lee Chaeryeong, I didn’t know you were like that.”

 

Chaeryeong rolls her eyes, “Shut up and eat your lunch.”

 

Ryujin laughs — all soft bright eyes, whisker dimples, and innate arrogance that Chaeryeong has long deemed endearing. And she would stare, and stare, and stare. Over and over again until she was teased for spacing out, and Ryujin would burst into another fit of laughter.

 

It’s the type of laugh that sticks on Chaeryeong’s head, and she hates it.

 

Simply because she knows it would ensure pages of her journal of occupied, raging on with endless description that could put thesaurus to shame, along with sleepless nights spent tossing and turning, stomach warm and fuzzy, gushing over the littlest thing Ryujin does — and yes, high school is a horrible time for everyone but Lee Chaeryeong didn’t expect it to be that bad.

 

Ryujin shoots her another look, a small smile playing on her lips.

 

Chaeryeong shook her head.

 

She hates it, not because it’s Ryujin , but because she knows Ryujin would never look at her like that. The way she wants her to.

 

“Let me carry that,” Ryujin jogs up to her one time when she was walking home alone. Yeji and Lia had decided to stay behind for a meeting about the upcoming school fest — Chaeryeong couldn’t be bothered waiting for them, let alone be enthusiastic enough to actually participate in the festivities — and walking with Ryujin is not an option. But there she is, feeling unexplainably warm under the older girl’s sheepish grin that looks stupid and blinding at the same time.

 

Chaeryeong groans inwardly, she really should stop looking at the older girl.

 

“I can carry it for myself,” Chaeryeong says, her nose catching up with a smell that isn’t Ryujin, “but thanks.”

 

Ryujin shrugs, snatches the box out of Chaeryeong’s grasp, smiling at Chaeryeong with a smugness only she can pull, “Too late.”

 

Chaeryeong rolls her eyes; the curiosity of getting another whiff of Ryujin’s scent was overwhelming. So she leans in, taking Ryujin by surprise, sniffing loudly on the older girl’s collar. When she realized what she was doing, her face heats up, immediately pulling away like a thief caught red handed in the middle of a heist.

 

“What was that?” Ryujin raised her eyebrows.

 

Chaeryeong coughs, regaining her confidence and once again putting on her calm demeanor. A façade she has long mastered, “Were you smoking?” It wasn’t an accusation, just a mere question laced with curiosity, and if Chaeryeong is allowed to be honest, maybe a bit of concern too.

 

Ryujin has been hanging out with unfamiliar people these days, and Chaeryeong is just worried.

 

As a friend.

 

“Maybe…” Ryujin scratches her nape, “It was just one puff, I swear. I didn’t even like it.”

 

“Hm,” Chaeryeong nods, “Okay.”

 

“Okay?” Ryujin laughs, “you’re not going to scold me? Threaten to tell Yeji and Lia unnie about it?”

 

“Why would I do that?” Chaeryeong’s mouth quirks upwards.

 

“Because you hate me,” Ryujin states as a matter of fact. But it wasn’t a fact, and Chaeryeong knows that, because hating Ryujin was the last thing she’d ever do — she could never hate Ryujin, and it says a lot because the older girl constitutes of everything Chaeryeong is supposed to loathe, but she just couldn’t do it.

 

Ryujin makes her feel things, and it’s not, in any way, near hatred.

 

“I don’t,” Chaeryeong says weakly.

 

“Then do you perhaps have a crush on me, Chaeryeongie?” Ryujin snickers, “that’s the only plausible reason I could think of why you’re so uncomfortable and awkward whenever I’m around,” she wraps her free hand on Chaeryeong’s shoulder. It caught Chaeryeong off guard and she coughs, giving all possible retorts up to God as she pushes Ryujin with all the force she could summon. Marching away like a soldier on a mission, not even bothering to look back and to defend herself even after hearing the older girl’s loud teasing and boisterous laughter.

 

“YOU DO HAVE A CRUSH ON ME, CHAERYEONGIE!”

 

Maybe she does.

 

But she’s not going to tell Ryujin that.

 

Not when Ryujin announces her admiration towards the new transferee the next day, ogling at her whenever they pass the foreign student in the hallways. Not when Chaeryeong has to listen to all of her blabbers about her silly crush when Yeji isn’t available — and certainly not when Ryujin walks up to the middle of the stage during the school fest a week later holding the girl’s hand with the brightest smile ever, screaming without any care in the world, “RYUJINIE GOT HERSELF A GIRLFRIEND!”

 

High school is indeed a horrible time for everyone but Lee Chaeryeong didn’t expect it to be the worst.

 

—

 

“I missed you.”

 

Ryujin looks taken aback, and Chaeryeong took the opportunity to walk away and not let the older girl see how flustered she was at the confession. She really did miss Ryujin, a lot to be honest. It has been driving her mad for days, and it might sound like an exaggeration but Chaeryeong felt like she suffered a week long suffocation by distancing herself, and she’s only breathing now.

 

The air in the car smells cold, sharp and something fruity, and there goes that familiar scent of fabric conditioner that Chaeryeong loves so much she started looking for it in super markets to no avail.

 

“So —”

 

Chaeryeong inhales before pulling herself up to sit on Ryujin’s lap. The position was uncomfortable, but coziness is the last thing on her mind because finally, finally — she’s coming home.

 

Chaeryeong took a quick glance at Ryujin's eyes — clouded and confused — before closing the gap between them. She relished the taste of Ryujin’s mouth on hers, movements rough and filled with pent up frustrations, kisses like she’s on war but Ryujin doesn’t.

 

She doesn’t.

 

Ryujin reciprocates Chaeryeong’s aggressiveness with kindness and generosity, almost languid but firm enough to show care and interest. She offers comfort where in Chaeryeong compensates with anger. It made Chaeryeong’s knees weak, especially when she drew away and Ryujin just looked at her like… like, she’s the only one she sees, holding Chaeryeong’s face with tenderness and tranquility Chaeryeong didn’t know Ryujin possessed.

 

I should talk to her, Chaeryeong thinks, clear things up, but her mind was too unorganized, and putting her words into a coherent sentence wouldn’t be possible —

 

Ryujin’s hands slip under her shirt, drawing circles onto the small of her back.

 

Chaeryeong groans, ah it

 

Ryujin chuckles and that was the last straw before Chaeryeong lets herself gets back once again to the recesses of her heart that constantly yearns for everything Ryujin.

 

—

 

Ryujin has put Chaeryeong on the highest altitude and tips her over with one flick of a finger. Making Chaeryeong fall deeper into the abyss, and salvation was no longer redeemable. There are no bars to hold on to, no ladders to climb herself up from the euphoric misery Ryujin has single handedly put her in.

 

Chaeryeong is doomed.

 

“See, this is the problem…”

 

Or not?

 

Ryujin walks over to her position with furrowed brows, curved into a frown. She puts the shirt above Chaeryeong’s head, pulling it down as she mutters words that didn’t exactly make any sense to Chaeryeong. Because all she could focus on was Ryujin’s face, how she’s clearly losing temper but still manages to move softly, hand gripping Chaeryeong’s wrist as she donned her with a shirt that smells so much like tangerines. She pats Chaeryeong’s head when she’s done, pulling her to bed.

 

Chaeryeong’s chest feels like it’s about to explode from the silence, from the words that’s threatening to manifest from Ryujin’s lips. It’s thrilling, but it’s also immensely frightening knowing how uncertain feelings could be. She inhales, ready to crash and burn, biting her lip to prepare herself for the blow.

 

It looks like Ryujin is scared to wits too, so Chaeryeong decided that it’s her turn to put one step forward, hearing Chaeyeon’s voice inside her head, loud and demanding, shake the damn table Ryeong, so things would ing fall into place. So she did, Chaeryeong just hoped that the shake wasn’t strong enough to shatter the precious things she has been cradling with care all this time; her feelings and whatever relationship she has with Ryujin.

 

“Do you like me?”

 

And it feels like Chaeryeong just dived head on under water, suddenly wishing that she doesn’t know how to swim so she could stay below forever, unable to hear what Ryujin has to say. Unfortunately for her, that’s not how it works, because she couldn’t possibly shake Ryujin’s soft grasp at her wrist, escape those wide doe eyes and the now creeping smile accompanied by dimples and gentle laugh lines — God, she’s beautiful.

 

“Obnoxiously narcissistic.”

 

A beat, “That’s not an answer.”

 

Chaeryeong studied Ryujin’s face so closely, it’s funny how all this time they have been ravaging each other, now is the only time that she actually got to see her in detail. And when Ryujin told her that she doesn’t know, that her feelings are a blur in all honesty, Chaeryeong got pulled even deeper. Her eyes trailing the words that came out of Ryujin’s lips, how swift they are in filling Chaeryeong’s ears with truth and admittance that it’s almost impossible for her to not to swoon.

 

She has never seen Ryujin so genuine, so scared, and it took a lot of Chaeryeong’s willpower not to reach out for her face, interrupt her feelings with assurances — she’s not used to this Ryujin. But she lets her talk, marinating with the fact that she got to witness another side of her and how honored she was by it.

 

Still, her heart beats like racing stallions and it’s scary because is it possible to die of cardiac arrest due to unbearable feelings and too much fondness for another person?

 

I should’ve gone to medical school if I knew my heart was going to be like this.

 

“It’s okay, you can figure it out.”

 

Chaeryeong is being considerate because she knows how hard it is to come to terms with feelings. She had tons of come her way before she admitted that maybe she really did have feelings for Ryujin back then. And she was so scared, because it’s not a familiar territory — she always struggled with opening up, and at the time she couldn’t tell Lia and Yeji because she was so sure they wouldn’t understand.

 

So she kept her feeling for Ryujin to herself, like a sacred relic open only to the owner — she held onto it, held it fiery under her sleeves until she got to show it, pushed through with a bit of alcohol, school frustration and a goddamn loose tie. Ryujin was wearing a suit the first time it happened, and god, it was just too much. Chaeryeong was lucky that she got to hide her feelings under the guise of being drunk because she knows she could not get caught that early — she couldn’t afford getting caught at all.

 

“You called me, Chaeryeongie…”

 

“And?”

 

It’s like going back to high school, the memory still warm on Chaeryeong’s mind, “I missed it.” She smiles.

 

A small playful smile pops in Ryujin’s face and Chaeryeong knows that sly wink she lets out was onto something. Her theory was proven right when Ryujin began saying Chaeryeongie in different voices, her aura playful and confident, like she knows exactly what to do to make Chaeryeong smile, “Chaeryeongie?”

 

Chaeryeong couldn’t help but bursts into laughter, and it hurts her stomach, and she’s already crying and everything was just overwhelmingly wonderful — lying on Ryujin’s bed, her hand slipping swiftly on Chaeryeong’s fingers, the warmth of the room, the raging storm, and Ryujin. This characteristically annoying yet endearing woman, the one she’s been in love with for so long, just makes everything perfect.

 

“Do you think we could do it?” There was a beat of silence, Ryujin’s finger tapping the space between them, and suddenly Chaeryeong feels too hyper aware of her presence, “us?”

 

Chaeryeong grips Ryujin’s hand tight, her heart pounding loudly and she hopes Ryujin could hear it. She could think of thousands of ways to say yes, they can make it work, and if it doesn’t, Chaeryeong would freeze hell just to make it happen, she’d fight for it, she’d fight for both of them. This is something she has been wanting for so long that it physically hurts thinking that it might end up as an almost.

 

Yes, let’s do it. It will work.

 

She could put that out there, but instead, Chaeryeong smiles, “We could try.”

 

Ryujin’s face melts into relief, she grins and it was enough, it was enough to calm Chaeryeong’s dilemma, “Yeah?”

 

Chaeryeong nods, smiling still, “Yeah.”

 

—

 

“ you, Yuna!” Ryujin shouts, tapping aggressively on her phone. Clad in her flowery pyjamas like she dropped by literally just to play her games, blonde hair tied up hastily on top of her head with legs spread wide open as she sits on Lia’s bean bag — it’s a sight, “You too Yizhuo, I’m coming for you both!” She screamed angrily, not lifting her head up from the gadget.

 

“Unnie, just admit it,” Yuna says, her eyebrows furrowed, still concentrating on whatever game they were playing, “you’re losing.”

 

Ryujin shakes her head, and for the first time since Chaeryeong arrived at Lia’s place, Ryujin finally looks at her, finally aware of her presence. The frustration on the older girl’s face dissipates and she grins adorably, winking at Chaeryeong like a goof ball. Chaeryeong laughs and looks away.

 

“Unnie is losing,” Yuna sing songs, clearly teasing Ryujin.

 

“Ha,” Ryujin grins, smug, okay that’s Ryujin’s game face, she wears that whenever… whenever they — shut it, Chaeryeong, “Ryujin always wins.”

 

Ningning laughs at Ryujin, “Okay, I’ve had enough. Yuna take over, I’m already tired.”

 

Now it was Yuna’s turn to scream, “WHAT? NO! Ning, come back, ah …” She scrambled through her phone, panic written all over her face.

 

“Okay, why are you cursing, Yuna.” Yeji demands, standing up from her seat, sharp eyes focused on the youngest.

 

Lia laughs, “Jeez, calm down, Yeji. I’m her sister, let her curse or whatever. It’s fine.”

 

Yeji shrugs, falls back besides Lia, muttering a small, “Okay.”

 

Whipped, Chaeryeong thinks.

 

But she’s not one to talk.

 

Because one smile from Ryujin and she’s already reduced into warm puddles, the back of her neck cherry red. Got even worse when Ryujin offered to take her home that night, doubled when the older girl held her hand, and suddenly Chaeryeong felt conscious because her hands are cold and sweaty, and she would tell Ryujin about it, apologizing in silent murmurs. But Ryujin would just beam, shaking her head, “I make you nervous, don’t I?”

 

Chaeryeong would frown at the arrogance, slap Ryujin’s shoulder and the older girl would laugh even more.

 

Ryujin is sly, edgy and sharp — and she can be pompous, a bit dangerous at times because she likes adventures that get her into trouble, bless her adrenaline loving heart. She punched a guy once just to prove a point, and once in their drunken stories, Ryujin confessed that her three year old self drank water from the toilet using a teaspoon.

 

Ryujin has these different facets of personalities and