Dating Shuhua felt like something straight out of the movies.

It was an unconventional set of circumstances with just the right amount of cheesy, Soyeon had teased. And maybe it was, but Soojin would take cheesy and unconventional over nothing at all. Because, like a raging fire, Shuhua had quickly consumed her life.

It was a beautiful sort of consumption. The kind that leaves in its wake the shoots of rebirth growing amidst the mire. The kind that makes a person better, affords them challenges to rise to and obstacles to overcome.

“Oh, Soojin!” Miyeon opened the door with a warm smile on her lips and a smothering hug.

That was another part that came with dating Shuhua —her sister, Miyeon.

She was something else. Sort of like a cross between a unicorn and bridled chaos. Watching the way she interacted with Shuhua was like watching Saturday morning cartoons all over again, Tom and Jerry skittering across the kitchen tile before her very eyes.

But then there were these soft moments, moments Soojin felt like an outsider to. Ones that felt forged in adversity and irreplaceable moments. Like life and death.

“Hey Miyeon, is Shuhua here?”

“No, she…” Miyeon trailed off.

Her eyes were distant in a way Soojin had never seen and, not for the first time, it felt like she was intruding on something she wasn’t supposed to see.

Toying with the little plane in her hand, Soojin waited. Waited for Miyeon to finish so she could make a hasty escape.

“Is that—” Miyeon’s breath hitched, “—She already left for the bridge. You’ll have to hurry, but I’m sure you can catch up.”

Ushered out of the doorway, Soojin nodded. The way Miyeon reacted was odd and the vague reference to some bridge wasn’t really that helpful. But, toying with the paper plane wish she had folded, Soojin surmised the bridge by where she met Shuhua was as good a place as any.

It was, after all, what made dating Shuhua so ridiculously cheesy.

In hindsight, meeting Shuhua at that bridge was one of the most bizarre places they could meet. It was a year to date, but Shuhua, Soojin had learned, lived nowhere remotely close to the bridge. She didn’t work nearby, attend school, and heck, she wasn’t even sure what restaurants were nearby or what to do in the area other than throw paper planes off bridges onto passerby strangers.

Hopefully Shuhua didn’t make a habit of dating all of them.

Thanking the cab driver, Soojin saw Shuhua leaning against the rusty rail near the other end of the pedestrian walk path on the bridge. If the moon light wasn’t hidden behind the clouds, Soojin knew she would look ethereal under its white glow.

“Hey,” Soojin began when she was in earshot.

The way Shuhua leapt, neck snapping back with eyes wide with fear, was terrifying.

Without the sound of traffic to swallow their yelps, the sound bounced off the exposed metal of the bridge to ricochet brokenly into the chilly night air.

“Hey,” Shuhua replied with a hand over her chest. She sounded winded, like she’d just run a marathon, “What are you do