Everyone knew that Hyunjung wasn’t a party person. She’s happy to stay home, watching boring variety shows while petting her cat. But Juyeon spent a whole week insisting that she should live a little and kiss some girls, so she gave in and followed her friend into a club.

That’s how she met her. Chu Sojung, one year younger than her, majoring in music production. A genius when it comes to song lyrics and instruments, but she also happens to be the student that trips in front of the whole class and can’t make a powerpoint to save her life.

And turns out that Chu Sojung was also really, really attractive. Hyunjung knew she was being obvious with all the staring, but after a few drinks she found it increasingly difficult to care. Hyunjung hadn’t got laid in centuries, the woman was pretty and she wasn’t stupid— she could see Sojung was checking her out too, biting her lips, dragging her hands through her hair in an attempt to hide how flustered she was. 

It didn’t take too long for them to be tearing each other’s clothes off in a cramped bathroom stall. Hyunjung isn’t the type to hookup with someone she barely knows, that’s more of Juyeon’s thing, but Sojung looks pretty with marks all over her neck, manicured nails desperately scratching Hyunjung’s back, so she decides to shrug it off. 

It’s just one night, after all. 

Except, it isn’t.

Hyunjung goes back to the club the other week, so one night turns into two. Then three. Then four. Then five. Then one at her apartment, another one at Sojung’s, and repeat. At some point, Hyunjung stops counting.

The warmth that sweeps through her chest whenever Sojung smiles at her never stops, though. It keeps on blooming.

—

So, Sojung sleeps with other girls. It’s not a big deal. It shouldn’t be a big deal. 

But it’s hard to not think about it when one of these girls is your friend, and you see said friend every single day. And it gets harder when Sojung becomes friends with your other friend, and all of you start sitting at the same table during lunch.

("The two of you are sleeping with the same person," Juyeon pointed out one day, an empty can of soda— or breakfast, according to her— in one hand while she mindlessly scrolled through her phone with the other, "you should just spend a night together, too."

Hyunjung snorted and threw Juyeon a glare, because even though there were many moments where Juyeon offered her useful advice, on some occasions her friend refused to use her brain before she opened her big mouth.)

Hyunjung knows she shouldn’t care if Sojung sleeps with Jiyeon. They’re just adults having casual fun. There’s nothing wrong with it.

But everytime Jiyeon mentions Sojung she finds herself clinging to the fact that Jiyeon’s heart already belongs to that cute freshman that she can’t quite remember the name— Lina? Luna? Luda— yeah, Lee Luda— to cope with the new information, so maybe there is something wrong. Not with Sojung, and most definitely not with Jiyeon. There’s something wrong with her foolish self, and she doesn’t know how to fix it.

Hyunjung’s situation gets impossibly worse when Jiyeon announces that yes, she’s going to confess her feelings to Lee Luda, and Sojung sends her a text— the lamest text Hyunjung has ever received, but that still makes her blush like a hormonal teenager— that says: guess it’s just u and me now ;)

Sojung is sitting right in front of her, a smug grin painting her face before she gets up and leaves for her class. 

Hyunjung knows she’s bad at this casual thing, but she never suspected it would be this hard. Maybe it’s because it’s Sojung, because she’s beautiful and addictive and has no shame to ask Hyunjung for a leg massage after they reach their highs. 

And maybe it’s because she’s falling, falling, falling— too fast, too hard. Because she knows she’s nowhere near the ground yet.

—

“Sojung,” Hyunjung calls quietly, nudges Sojung’s waist with her finger. “Are you… seeing anyone?”

It’s midnight. They’re snuggled up on Sojung’s single bed, watching a cheesy rom-com on her laptop. There’s two plates over the nightstand— plates that were full of bacon and chicken wings a few minutes ago. I never really cook for the people who I sleep with, it’s too much work, she remembers Sojung saying casually one day. 

This is the first time Sojung cooks them food instead of grabbing her phone and ordering tteokbokki from the old restaurant down the street. That gives Hyunjung something to think about. And she thinks, and thinks, and thinks again. Hyunjung thinks a lot about her, and Sojung, and what they do together in this small bedroom, on a worn-out mattress. Thinks about how much those stolen moments after late night classes mean to her, and wonders if they mean the same to Sojung. 

“No,” Sojung answers, wraps an arm around Hyunjung’s torso to bring her closer. There’s barely any space left between them, but Hyunjung lets her. “Still no one other than you.”

“Oh,” Hyunjung’s heart stutters. “Okay.”

They keep watching the movie in silence. Sojung asks Hyunjung if she’s still hungry, and she wants to say yes, but it’s too cold and Sojung’s skin is warm and she doesn’t want her to go anywhere. She wants to stay there, with her head resting over Sojung’s chest, listening to each sound she makes.

“Will you stay?”

Sojung asks her every night, a vulnerability that matches Hyunjung’s shining in her eyes. Hyunjung would never, ever say no.

“Of course,” Hyunjung says, and the way Sojung’s lips curl up whenever she says those two words fills her soul with hope.

Maybe, Hyunjung tells herself as they drift off to sleep, maybe, we could.

—

It’s three in the morning when Hyunjung’s phone rings.

She groans and grabs the device from under her pillow, picking up the call without even opening her eyes. 

“Hello?”

“Hyunjung,” there’s a pause, then Hyunjung hears the sound of an object that she couldn’t identify hitting the floor, “I need you.”

It’s Sojung. Her voice sounds weak and desperate and it’s enough to make Hyunjung’s heart run cold, skip a few beats. She tosses the covers on the floor and sits straight on the bed, clutching her phone as anxiety sweeps through her. “Sojung, where the are you?”

“Outside the club,” Sojung croaks out, “got into a fight with some dudes.” Sojung coughs, makes a displeased noise and Hyunjung can hear her cussing under her breath. “Can you— can you please—”

“I’m on my way,” Hyunjung cuts her, balancing her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she puts on her sneakers. “Just make sure to stay safe until I arrive, okay?”

It’s been three months since they met, three months since they started this weird thing where they sleep together but are also friends, and this is the first time Sojung calls her this late without any second intentions.

Hyunjung doesn’t know what to think of it— why Sojung called her, needs her, and not any of her other friends. 

And she would ask. The question is sitting at the tip of her tongue, ready to slip out. But then she gets to the club, finds Sojung sitting on the sidewalk with purple knuckles, bloody lips and a scratched nose, and she’s rendered speechless. “Hi,” Sojung manages to say, the corner of twitching up, and Hyunjung never thought seeing Sojung would be this painful.

“Hi,” Hyunjung repeats through the knot forming in , kneeling in front of Sojung and analyzing her injuries. “I brought some stuff to help you with that. It might hurt a little.”

Sojung nods, painfully slow, but she still hisses from the movement. God, how bad was that fight?

After removing all she’ll need from her backpack, Hyunjung begins to take care of Sojung. She holds Sojung’s jaw like she’s holding a petal, similar to the ones starting to fall from the cherry blossom tree at the other side of the street, announcing a new cicle— a new beginning.

Each time Sojung flinches under Hyunjung’s touch, another petal falls. And they keep on falling, falling, falling— they’re all over the place, painting the grass pink, and maybe some of them find their way into Hyunjung’s soul, too.

She knows she has reached the ground. There’s no way back up now.

Hyunjung doesn’t realize she stopped wiping the blood from Sojung’s mouth until a low chuckle breaks the silence between them. Hyunjung blinks, shakes her head, and Sojung chuckles at her behavior again, louder this time.

Hyunjung rolls her eyes. “What’s so funny?”

Sojung doesn’t answer her question. Instead, she blurts out, “You’re so pretty.”

And it’s disarming, really, the way she says it so easily, while her face is full of band-aids and purple marks. It gets worse when Sojung starts to lean in, eyes glued to her lips like there’s nothing in the world she craves more than to feel her, until she yelps and has to rest her head against the wall and the moment is ruined. Hyunjung laughs so hard and so loud that her ribs burn— because Sojung is so stupid but so, so ing endearing, and she wants. She wants Chu Sojung in every possible way.

And while it stings to see Sojung like that, all battered and bruised on the sidewalk of a club, Hyunjung realizes that maybe, just maybe, despite the circumstances, it’s not that bad— she thinks Sojung will be alright, as long as she’s the one taking care of her, the one she needs.

—

Hyunjung wakes up and, much to her dismay, her head is still killing her.

The only things she remembers after coming home from the library last night was typing a quick message to Kim Minji, her closest classmate, explaining why she wouldn’t be able to attend class the next day. Minji, bless her heart, promised she would lend Hyunjung her notes as soon as she felt better and wished her a speedy recovery. Then Hyunjung sent Juyeon a voice message saying the same thing she did to Minji— or else Juyeon’s protective would kill her for not letting her know she got sick—, threw her phone over the nightstand, fell on the bed and out.

Hyunjung pushes herself up to a sitting position, grunting at how broken her body feels. She should’ve listened to Jiyeon when she was nagging about how she should put on a coat because the weather was about to get colder. So much for being stubborn, huh. Jiyeon is never going to let this one go.

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