a/n: unedited and super late. I apologize in advance for possible errors. 

 

---

 

 

Jimin burns.

 

Of shame, of regret, and of guilt. She doesn’t want to open her eyes. Not when the first conscious thought in her mind is that of last night. She remembers being too drunk that she called her ex’s number and asked--no, demanded that she pick her up, all the embarrassing things she said over the phone, and passing out in the woman’s car. Before she could reason out to herself that no, it could’ve been a dream, she registers the scent of freshly laundered sheets mingling with something so unmistakably Minjeong–something powdery light and lovely.

 

Oh God, she’s never going near a drink again.

 

The thought of lying on this familiar bed after so long colors her cheeks to an even darker hue. She chides herself, finding it inappropriate to be flustered by such things in this situation. Yet her mind wanders on its own and thinks that what if someone else that isn’t her have shared this intimate space with Minjeong?

 

It’s enough to force her eyes open, peeling herself away from the sheets that might’ve been occupied by somebody else.

 

She has no right to be jealous. No right to be reminiscing about the moments they spent on this bed–cuddling and morning kisses and fiery passion.

 

It’s what she bargained for.

 

The room is dark, but from the light that lines the cracks between the overlapping fabrics, Jimin assumes it’s already mid-day. She sits at the edge of the queen-sized, headache splitting her skull to two. There’s an empty glass and a pitcher of water on top of the nightstand. Jimin’s chest swells, heart wrenching. Minjeong has always been so good to her.

 

Muffled clutter rings from behind the closed door and she can already see the familiar image of a certain someone flitting around the kitchen. An image she knew so well and used to witness every single day, ever so fortunate to be pampered by a faithful lover in every waking moment.

 

It’s what she wasted.

 

For what? For the limelight? For success? For the glamorous bling of celebrity life? Exchanging someone’s love for the adoration of millions. She can go on any social media platforms and find different people from all over the globe professing their love for her. Yet her heart still aches. Her heart still yearns.

 

It’s what she deserves.

 

She embraces the thorns and soaks in the pooling blood, submerging every single inch of her guilty heart to which each throb feels terribly criminal. This is the grave that she dug for herself. Out of fear. Out of cowardice. Out of greed. And she must lie in it.

 

She glances at the door. She still can’t bring herself to go out and face Minjeong. Not after last night.

 

Last night…

 

Jimin heaves a sigh. It’s all because of Aeri’s stupid Christmas party.

 

She was living alright. Not pleasant, yet not terrible either. Her fame has been on the increase, her schedule was packed, and everybody loved her. Except that one person who mattered. At least Jimin thinks that after everything, the only acceptable feeling from Minjeong would be resentment. Not hate. Minjeong is too much of an angel to hate someone. Even someone like her.

 

The last time she saw Minjeong was during Aeri and Yizhuo’s joint birthday party. The encounter was brief, the woman merely dropping by at the restaurant for five minutes to greet their friends and hand them her gifts. Their interactions in the past two years were even shorter, mere seconds of breathing the same air. Not a brush of gazes. Not a single touch. On her birthday, Minjeong would always be busy. Their friends don't push. Of course, she doesn't either.

 

Jimin started to regret her choice of keeping their friendship because it sure didn’t feel like it. Minjeong is distant and cold. A stranger more than a friend. And she can’t blame her. There’s only one person to blame, and no one else.

 

And then the day of their little Christmas party came and suddenly Minjeong’s everywhere. She’s in every corner of Jimin’s eyes and in every nook of her brain, she tried closing her eyes and there’s still Minjeong’s scent, so near and in reach and Jimin couldn’t help but to try and touch, a doubting Thomas trying to confirm that the vision before her is of real flesh and blood.

 

The way Minjeong flinched away from her touch still ached like a fresh open wound. Jimin takes it all. It’s the least she could do.

 

The next thing she knew, Minjeong’s all she could think about every single day after that, remorse weighing heavily on her chest, filling her head with dangerous thoughts of what-could-have-beens. Jimin welcomes the pain with open arms, as one would do an old friend. She lets it live and grow in her gut until it’s too much to bear. Even then she grits her teeth and endures. It still wouldn’t have been enough to amount to the hurt she had inflicted on Minjeong. It’s something she would atone for, for the rest of her life.

 

Gritting of teeth was done in the form of inebriation last night, when the suffocation of regret had been too much. Aeri had always chided her for her ways to cope, suggesting healthier ones–like going for a run or taking a nice warm bath–but Jimin refuses to even consider. A drink would always be the best; giving her momentary reprieve only to wake up feeling worse the next day.

 

“But of course you choose to relax in the most self-destructing way possible.” Aeri would always nag. And Jimin would always joke that at least she hasn't started hurting herself. Her friends would then take turns checking up on her everyday after that.

 

It backfired this time though. The only thing she achieved last night was hurting Minjeong even more. Jimin’s debt piles up.

 

I guess the partial payment would be facing her, Jimin thinks, getting up to her feet. Her vision swims, bile climbs up to and she relishes in the pain, each step to the door a petinence for her sins.

 

Her head protests in aggressive thumps and shockwaves of ache when brightness fills her vision. She steps out of the dark room and carefully pads to the source of the clacking sounds, trying not to look around too much in the place she used to call home.

 

The table is set for two, just like the old times, and she watches Minjeong’s every move–the locks of hair brushing her nape that she didn’t manage to include in her ponytail, the careless ribbon of her purple apron, the sweater sleeves hastily pushed up to her elbows, exposing a milky forearm that flexes when she pours the content of the pot to a bowl, and–

 

“You’re awake.”

 

–the brief look of surprise on her face the moment she turns around and finds Jimin there, staring at her like she’s allowed to.

 

Jimin drinks it all, stores it in the deepest recesses of her mind to feast upon for later.

 

She shouldn’t. She doesn’t have the right to. But she’s selfish. She has always been selfish.

 

“Yes, um-” her voice cracks. She clears her parched throat only to stupidly utter, “Hi.”

 

Minjeong doesn’t say anything for a while, only looking at her and probably thinking of how terrible she looked that moment, and then she walks closer, placing the steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup on the table.

 

“Eat.”

 

They eat in silence–Minjeong with her waffles and Jimin with her chicken noodle soup. The air is light, the quiet almost comfortable if not for the familiarity of it all that presses against the bones of Jimin’s ribs, stifling, forceful, suffocating–

 

“That’s the apron Ning got you for Christmas, isn’t it?” Jimin blurts out like a desperate gasp for air and silence breaks.

 

Minjeong pauses, glancing down as though she’s forgotten she’s still wearing it. “Yes.”

 

“It suits you.” Jimin comments, then as an afterthought, “I’m relieved. I helped her pick it out.”

 

“Is that so,” says Minjeong. Nothing else follows.

 

Jimin squirms. Minjeong glances over and takes pity. “Isn’t your family holding a party later?”

 

“They are.” Jimin sighs. She meets Minjeong’s comforting gaze. As if saying it’s okay. She sighs again. Too good. Minjeong’s too good. “I’m sorry.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For last night.”

 

Minjeong puts down her fork and reaches for a glass of water. Jimin continues. “I’m sorry for calling so late. I must’ve disturbed your sleep.”

 

Minjeong’s brows knit together. “Seriously, unnie. What were you thinking, drinking in public so late at night?” she scolds, voice still soft yet sharp edged. “What if somebody recognized you? What if you were taken advantage of? And if I didn’t answer your call? What then? You–” she grits her teeth and looks away, huffing. “Sorry. Never mind. You’re old enough. You already know this.”

 

“But you came.”

 

“What?”

 

“You came. You answered my call. You were there.”

 

Minjeong’s hand around the glass tightens, knuckles turning white. Jimin sees conflict flit across her features, lips parting to speak only to close. Jimin waits.

 

“Did you,” she wet her lips, “Did you mean what you said last night? At all?”

 

There’s a certain light in Minjeong’s eyes. Like the flickering flame of a burning matchstick. Tiny, but brilliant all the same. Jimin frantically runs through her memories but finds nothing that she said that stood out.

 

“I was too out of it to say anything that made sense last night,” she carefully says. Safe. Neutral. Heaven knows what she said last night. What if she said something stupid about hating her?

 

She shudders.

 

“I think it would be best if you forget all about it.”

 

The flame dies and all Jimin can see is the wisp of dull, grey smoke even as Minjeong’s lips stretch to a tight smile.

 

“Right.”

 

She stands and Jimin flinches in surprise. Her plate is still filled with food.

 

“You should take a shower before you go,” Minjeong suggests, putting away her half-eaten meal. “Feel free to use the bathroom. You…You already know the way.”

 

Jimin watches, wide-eyed, as Minjeong walks away. “Where are you going?”

 

“I’ll be in my room.”

 

The door closes–and she’s gone.

 

***

 

Jimin walks out of the bathroom wearing her old university hoodie that Minjeong had borrowed years ago (and never returned until now) and a pair of sweats she used to wear every time she slept over before completely moving in. Minjeong had thoughtfully left them outside the shower along with a fresh towel and she’s more than surprised to find her things still in Minjeong's place.

 

She thinks back to the plastic blue toothbrush still by the sink.

 

Perhaps Minjeong’s been too busy to throw them out. Or maybe she just doesn’t care at all.

 

She pads to the living room and finds Minjeong there, crisp and immaculate as ever in a black overcoat and a white turtleneck, bent over the coffee table in the process of getting her car keys. She spots her coming and straightens, keys jingling on her fingers.

 

“I’ll drive you home.” It stings, that under different circumstances this place–this girl would’ve been her home.

 

“No, I can–”

 

“No, you can’t.” Minjeong cuts off, face stern. Jimin selfishly drinks in how dashing she looks, the fringe caught in her bare, long lashes. “Come on.”

 

“But aren’t you supposed to be heading back to Busan today?” Jimin argues weakly, following Minjeong to the door anyway.

 

“I am. But not until this afternoon.”

 

The sting of frigid winter air pierces straight through the material of Jimin’s hoodie when they step out to the parking lot and she shivers. Minjeong wordlessly hands her her coat before briskly walking to her car. Jimin swings it over her shoulders and follows, enveloped in the warmth and scent of winter personified.

 

“How long are you staying there?” Jimin asks, unable to keep quiet as they drive outside the building and into the streets. Snow is falling and the spirit of Christmas is sprinkled everywhere–in the twinkling lights adorning the leafless trees lining the sidewalk, different Christmas tree exhibits, and decorations of red and green. She folds Minjeong’s coat and puts it in the backseat, heater cranked up.

 

“Staying where?”

 

“Busan.”

 

“I’ll be back in the morning on the twenty-sixth.”

 

“Oh. I see.

 

Jimin waited but it seems Minjeong is no longer in the mood to humor her and keep the small talk going. She takes out her phone and dreadfully checks her messages. About twice a dozen missed calls, nearly the same number of texts that ranged from pleas to threats all from her manager. Aeri and Yizhuo also had a number of missed calls. She types a quick apology and reassurance to her friends and leaves her manager on read before checking the news. Jimin sighs in relief. Word didn’t get out of her drunken escapade last night. Good.

 

She goes on her usual routine of chatting with fans on that one specific app and posts random photos of the sky on social media. She locks her phone and recognizes the road they’re on to be near her neighborhood. She glances at Minjeong.

 

The woman’s eyes are locked on the road, almost glaring. The slope of her nose is majestic under the occasional rays of wintry sunlight and Jimin is overcome with a strong sense of urgency.

 

This moment is coming to an end. And it might be the last.

 

She doesn’t want it to be the last.

 

Jimin has always been selfish.

 

“Minjeong-ah,” she calls, voice thick over the hum of the engine.

 

Minjeong shoots her a quick glance. Jimin notes how her gaze softens.

 

“Hm?”

 

Her mind races faster than her heart. “What do you say about hanging out? When you return from Busan.”

 

A slight frown mars her features. “But the girls won’t be back until after my birthday.”

 

“Well, we can…hangout. Together. Just the two of us.”

 

Minjeong’s scowl deepens. “What?” she utters, voice quiet yet sharp on all edges that it pierces straight through Jimin’s stomach.

 

She’s not thinking anymore. Not really. She just wants. God, how much she wants. “We can go Christmas shopping. Get your favorite hot chocolate from that one coffee shop you like so much. Go skiing–you’ve always wanted to go skiing–”

 

“Unnie, stop.” Minjeong interrupts, voice stone hard and ice cold. “Look, I…I’ve been living just fine without you for the past two years. I have adjusted. I have–I have moved on. So please. Don’t march back into my life and trample it all down.”

Jimin inhales sharply, the blade in her gut twisting. I have moved on. Of course. Of course she has. “But you agreed to stay friends…”

 

Minjeong’s knuckles turn white on the wheel. “Unnie. Please don’t cross the line.”

 

Thousands of needles stab painfully hot behind her eyes. She understands exactly what Minjeong means. She’s just a thorn on her side disguised as a friend that she doesn’t even bother to acknowledge the existence of.

 

She knows that. She expects it.

 

Jimin sinks deeper in her grave.

 

The car stops and Jimin looks up. They’ve arrived. She clutches her purse to her chest and unbuckles her seatbelt.

 

“Thanks for the ride.” she murmurs, stepping out into the cold.

 

Minjeong nods briskly, not sparing her a glance. “It’s what friends do.”

 

The term never hurt as much as it does now.

 

***

 

All Christmas promotional shoots for her numerous endorsements are long over and done with. Filming for her new drama won’t be until mid-January. Her company had wiped her schedule clear so she can “enjoy the holidays” and now she has an entire week of freedom but nothing to spend it with.

 

Now she’s bumming around her apartment, lying prone on her bed while pestering fans in that messaging app because nobody else seemed to be available to chat.

 

Christmas has come and gone in a flurry of presents and cards. Nothing special had occurred during her family’s party. If anything, Jimin had been so ready to risk it all if she ever hears another one of those when will you get married questions.

 

Her phone rings. It’s Yizhuo.

 

“Hey,” she greets, rolling onto her back and checking her nails. “You finally called. I can’t seem to reach Aeri.”

 

“She’s probably still asleep.” a pause. “Have you tried contacting Minjeong-unnie?”

 

Jimin drops her hand. “You know it’s basically sacrilege for me to do that.”

 

“Last I checked, you two are still friends.”

 

Jimin sighs, moves her hand again to cover her eyes. “I already ruined that for us two years ago.”

 

There’s a lamenting silence for a while, a quiet mourning of a dead relationship, until– “She told me about what happened, two days ago.”

 

So that’s why she’s calling. “And here I thought you called because I texted you to. I’m gonna get scolded, aren’t I?”

 

“You deserve it.”

 

Jimin laughs. It rings empty and hollow. “I do.”

 

“Unnie…” Yizhuo starts and Jimin clenches her hand. She can take anger, can take all the curses in the world. Nothing she already tells herself can hurt her. But sympathy… She can never figure out what to do with it. “You know we don’t choose sides between you and Minjeong-unnie, right?”

 

“But?”

 

“But please don’t do things impulsively. Especially when both of you can get hurt from it.”

 

“I wasn’t being impulsive.”

 

Jimin can almost hear the rise of her brow, “You weren’t?”

 

“Well–okay, maybe I was. But I just–” she sighs in defeat. “Sorry. You’re right. I was impulsive. But I meant it. I still do.”

 

“So you want to be chummy besties with her again?” Yizhuo asks drily.

 

“I–yes. Yes, of course.”

 

“But you want more, don’t you?”

 

Jimin falls silent.

 

“Unnie. Your relationship is your business, not mine. But please. Don’t pick her up only to break her again. Don’t do anything that you would regret again. Please.” Yizhuo softly pleads, “Please take care this time. For the both of you. Because I know Minjeong-unnie. That girl will follow you without taking herself in consideration.”

 

I have moved on, Jimin thinks of Minjeong’s words bitterly. Of the curt replies and the cold shoulders. Will she even be allowed to do anything unregrettable? How shameless of her, to ask for something so lofty as another chance.

 

“Think about it, unnie. When the same situation arises, what will you do?” Yizhuo asks and the question echoes in her skull. “We can’t watch the both of you crumble down again, okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Jimin chokes out, “I understand.” she sighs shakily, swallowing the lump on . “I miss her, Yizhuo.”

 

Her confession is soft, a prayer uttered to the wind.

 

“I know, unnie. I know.”

 

Jimin lies there for the rest of the morning, the unsent message to her fans about today’s TMI long forgotten.

 

***

 

When Jimin reads the text message, she wonders if she’s dreaming.

 

She’s sitting in her company’s conference room with managers, lawyers, and a few executive officials for an abrupt discussion. She was paying attention to the conversation until her phone vibrated and now she’s staring at her screen, unable to believe what she’s reading and no longer hearing anything other than her racing heartbeat.

 

Hi. I have thought about your proposition the other day and have changed my opinion on the matter. If you’re free, I wouldn’t mind meeting you at Seoul Forest tomorrow, 3PM. Otherwise, please let me know what would work for your schedule so I can check mine. Have a good day.

 

This can’t be real.

 

Jimin pinches herself. It hurts.

 

No way. This must be a prank. Maybe she dropped her phone and a creep had somehow gotten their hands on it. But then the text itself in its prompt business-like, no-nonsense tone screams Minjeong in every line and every space, in every punctuation mark and every letter of every word.

 

“Jimin-ssi? Is everything alright?”

 

She snaps into attention. “Yes. Sorry. Please, continue.”

 

Her lawyer clears . “So these are our conditions for the renewal of the contract. For the next four years we…”

 

Jimin zones out of the conversation. She peeps at her phone under the table.

 

The message is still there, in glaring clarity and very much real. Still, she’s got half the mind to interrupt her lawyer just to let her check the legibility of the text. It’s simply impossible to get this message after her last encounter with Minjeong.

 

Please don’t cross the line.

 

She winces. It’s a little difficult to believe the text message after hearing that line.

 

Still. Hope creeps in and makes her blood thrum with every flutter of her heart. She should know better. But it’s unfortunately something out of her control.

 

She peeks again.

 

It’s still there.

 

With cold, trembling fingers and a hopeful heart, she types her reply.

 

That’s already perfect. See you tomorrow.

 

Sent.

 

***

 

Black? White? No, what about red? It matches her lipstick. But purple is one of Minjeong’s favorite colors. But so are yellow and pink and ivory. Heaven knows why that girl likes so many colors. Then what about this sweater? It has a little bit of everything.

 

Jimin stops in her tracks, putting down the knitted sweater and purple wool turtleneck she’s been checking herself out with at the mirror and tosses it to the pile of clothes she’s been trying on for the past hour.

 

It’s not a date, for heaven’s sake. She has to stop acting like it’s a date.

 

They’re just two friends hanging out. Nothing more.

 

Still. Her stomach flutters with a whirlwind of excitement and anticipation. She’s going to spend a day with Minjeong–well, an afternoon to be exact, but oh my god.

 

She takes a deep breath, wills herself to calm down, and decides to wear a more casual outfit of a hoodie under a long coat, topping it off with a beanie. She looks at herself in the mirror. Light makeup and hair down, just the way she knows Minjeong likes it.

 

Please don’t cross the line.

 

Jimin takes a deep breath. Platonic and friendly. Right.

 

“You better not mess this up.” she warns her reflection, giving herself a strict glare before grabbing her purse and exiting the apartment.

 

She’s maneuvering through the traffic at 2PM, already having made calculations that the drive there would take thirty minutes tops, but with the busy congested streets, it might take her almost an hour. Knowing Minjeong, she would be there at 3PM on the dot. Jimin can’t afford to be late.

 

She had wondered why Minjeong had chosen such a random park for their meet up, then it starts to make sense. Seoul Forest is a neutral ground. A safe place void of memories unlike the Han River or that one coffee shop Minjeong liked or even COEX mall.

 

Seoul Forest represents a blank space, a clear slate, a fresh start, a possible beginning of a rekindling friendship.

 

Her phone beeps, breaking through her thoughts. She stops at a red light and checks the message.

 

Jimin, where are you?

 

Her heart stops and slowly sinks. It’s from her manager, with a timing so impeccable it’s like he knows exactly what she’s up to.

 

Panic rises up . Her eyes darted around the interior of her car, feeling strangely like a fugitive. Did he plant a tracking device here somewhere? Is her phone bugged? How can he possibly know her plans?

 

Her ringtone pierces the air.

 

The light turns green.

 

Jimin steps on the gas.

 

She lets her phone ring until it stops, only to go off again. She chews on her lower lip. He’s just asking where she is. She should stop being paranoid.

 

On the third ring, she answers the phone.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Jimin-ah.” she tries to detect something from his voice but it’s difficult to tell through the phone. “Where are you?”

 

Her stomach rolls. She tightens her grip on the steering wheel. God, she feels like throwing up. “Why?”

 

“That thing with Givenchy is today, remember? I told you yesterday, before the meeting started.”

 

Oh, right. Jimin winces. She completely forgot about that! Though to be fair, she forgot about nearly everything the moment she got Minjeong’s message.

 

The Givenchy event is quite important. An invitation from the creative director himself, who will also be present at the event. If she doesn’t attend…well, her reputation would take a blow and she might not be able to extend her contract with Givenchy further.

 

“Jimin? Are you still there?”

Her heart slammed wildly against her chest. She presses her lips together. It’s all too familiar, the choice she has to make between her career and her heart. Everything feels like closing in on her and she’s forced to stop the car by the curb as she grows lightheaded.

 

When the same situation arises, Yizhuo’s voice whispers, what will you do?

 

Her heart’s response is clear and sure.

 

What I should’ve done in the first place.

 

She throws her head back and heaves a sigh.

 

“I’m sorry, oppa.” she takes a step forward, the first among the many that would follow. “I can’t get up right now.” she fakes a cough and continues with her best congested voice, “I caught a cold from not wearing enough layers yesterday.” she coughs again, adds a sniff for good measure. “I just–I really don’t feel so good right now.”

 

“What? Are you serious? He sighs. “Why did you suddenly get sick? You should’ve taken better care of yourself. Do you have medicine? I’ll get you some medicine. And food–”

 

“No, no.” she abruptly interrupted. “I’ll be fine, oppa. I have what I need here.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes, I’m sure.” she answers, “I just want to be alone right now.”

 

“Okay then.” he reluctantly acquiesced, “Take care, alright? Drink fluids. Wear thicker clothes next time.”

 

“I will.”

 

He nags then, about the importance of the event and about how Jimin just dumped a lot more on his plate than what he bargains for. Jimin listens, mutters an apology or two and the call ends and she sags with relief, feeling light and not at all guilty for lying. If anything, she’s relieved.

 

The clock glares at her from her phone’s lock screen.

 

Holy , she’s going to be late.

 

***

 

Jimin spots Minjeong just as the girl is about to leave.

 

She sees her stand with a subtle sigh from being seated on a bench, a glance at her wristwatch and a hand is digging into pockets, pulling out car keys.

 

Jimin breaks into a jog, the girl’s name at the tip of her tongue yet constricts, her rationale cautious of the attention she might get if she starts screaming in the middle of the park.

 

Minjeong starts walking away. Jimin speeds up. The frigid air burns her eyes.

 

“Minjeong-ah.” she pants as soon as she reaches her, a hand shooting out to grasp around the girl’s wrist and she tries not to think too hard about how her fingers form a perfect circle around the bone.

 

Evident surprise paints Minjeong’s face. “Unnie,” she breathes out, eyes wide. “You came.” her words carry a certain astonishment, as if she isn’t expecting Jimin to show up at all. Jimin’s heart twists. She grates out a laugh.

 

“Of course I did, silly.” she straightens up, reluctantly lets go of Minjeong’s wrist, fingers lingering before they slip away completely. “Were you about to leave without me?” she feigns hurt.

 

“It’s already 3:45.” Minjeong points out.

 

Jimin winces. “Sorry about that. My manager called when I was on the road and I had to pull over for a bit. And traffic was terrible so–ah, I’m making excuses aren’t I?” she laughs sheepishly. “Sorry.”

 

Minjeong’s unwavering eyes are on her and she basks in her attention. “What did he say?”

 

“Who?”

 

“Your manager.”

 

“Oh. It was nothing. I forgot I had a schedule today so he called to ask where I am.” she explains.

 

“You have a schedule?” Minjeong blinks. “But you’re here.”

 

“I am.” Jimin grins. “I told him I got sick and he let the matter go.”

 

“He believed it?”

 

Jimin winks–or at least she attempted to. “I’ve been told that I’m quite the good actress, you know.”

 

Minjeong lets out a small laugh the way she usually does, turning to the side and eye rolling subtly heavenward. Jimin’s heart leaps in victory.

 

“Come,” Minjeong doesn’t offer her hand like she used to. Instead she stuffs them into her pockets and gestures for them to move with a tilt of her head. “Let’s take a walk.”

 

Jimin walks up next to her, matching Minjeong’s stride with her hands stuck to her sides.

 

The walk is quiet, for the most part and the silence between them is comfortable, for once. Minjeong takes her time in admiring her surroundings. Jimin takes her time admiring her.

 

It feels unreal for Minjeong to be so close and in reach and exclusively Jimin’s–in a way, and for a borrowed time–and in their small talks that soon evolves to carefully picked high school anecdotes along with witty quips about Aeri and Yizhuo, Jimin is reminded of how it’s always easy with Minjeong. Of how they fit like puzzle pieces, a compliment of the other, like black and white. She realizes then, in the middle of dimpled smiles behind dainty hands after a joke made at the expense of their friends, just how much she missed this–just spending time with Minjeong and experiencing her unbridled personality. Realizes that this is the reason why she fell in love. Realizes that she’s falling. All over again.

 

Holy .

 

“So how did your Christmas go?” Minjeong asks amicably. She’s been playing the role of a friend so well today and Jimin wonders how much of it is forced through gritted teeth.

 

I have–I have moved on.

 

Or maybe she just didn’t care about it as much as Jimin does.

 

“The usual. You know how family gatherings can get.” she answers drily, managing to keep the ache out of her tone. “What about you?”

 

“Nothing special either, I guess.” her eyes then lights up. “Oh! My parents got a cat! Look, I have photos.”

 

They stop to peer at Minjeong’s phone, huddled together as they squeal at photos of adorable fluff. Jimin loves cats. But Minjeong’s nearness and warmth and her shoulder brushing ever so slightly against hers and the fragrance of winter she exudes is driving her out of her mind, pink warming her neck and cheeks. Jimin tries to control her breathing, tries not to faint on the spot.

 

Their little moment is ruined when unmistakable droplets of water fall on the screen.

 

Minjeong straightens, glancing up, “It’s raining.” she states, rather dumbly.

 

Jimin squints at the clouds. “It is.” she agrees, just as stupid.

 

It doesn’t take long before the droplets turn into a light shower and for the shower to turn into a downpour.

 

“Crap,” Jimin mutters, grabbing Minjeong’s arm once more. “Quick, let’s head to that building!”

 

Minjeong eases her arm out of her grip only so she can take off her coat and hold it above their heads, sheltering them from rain. Jimin blinks at her.

 

“Let’s go,” Minjeong urges and they run across the ark, puddles splashing in every footfall. They sprint and something about the situation and her squelchy socks makes a bubble of laughter slip from Jimin’s lips, a happy virus Minjeong catches too because soon she starts giggling despite the piercing cold of winter rain. Jimin wants to hold this moment forever, keep it in the pockets of her mind, romanticized and divine in its rose-tinted glory.

 

They reach the awning and her fantasy shatters as Minjeong pulls away as quick as the dash of lightning that pierces the sky, dusting water off her coat. The building seems to be a clothing boutique momentarily closed for the holidays. Jimin gestures for them to sit at the front steps.

 

“Your coat is drenched.” she comments as Minjeong folds the material over her lap.

 

“Much better than us being drenched, don’t you think?” Minjeong answers wryly, a hint of a smile on her lips. She’s so close that Jimin notices the absence of makeup on her skin, spotting the constellation of faint beauty marks that she had once traced with her fingers and kissed with her lips.

 

Jimin looks away, hoping MInjeong wouldn’t hear her heart pounding. “Right. Thanks.”

 

The one elevated step they’re sitting on is narrow, half of Jimin’s falling off. They sit shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm, thigh to thigh. Jimin squirms. Her knee bumps Minjeong’s.

 

“It doesn’t look like it’s going to let up soon.” Jimin comments in a desperate attempt to say something. Anything.

 

Minjeong, however, doesn’t look much bothered. She probably isn’t. “Yeah.”

 

A cold gust of wind bites and Jimin feels Minjeong stiffen, suppressing a shudder. She looks over. She’s only wearing a jumper.

 

“You’re cold.” Jimin remarks.

 

“Ah–yes, but it’s fine. It doesn’t bother me much.”

 

“Nonsense. You’ll get sick.”

 

“No, I’m fine, really–unnie, put your coat back on. You’ll be cold.”

 

Jimin drapes the coat over both of them and grins. “We can just share again.”

 

Minjeong blinks. “Oh.” she looks away, a faint dusting of pink on her cheeks. “Okay.”

 

They sit in silence, savoring each other’s heat. Rain relentlessly pours down like billions of needles pricking the ground. Wind blows every now and then and each time, Jimin shuffles a little bit closer. Minjeong doesn’t complain.

 

When the rain has slowed enough that they don't need to scream to be heard over the sound of water hitting the ground, Jimin speaks.

 

“What are you thinking?”

 

Minjeong has been staring off to the distance for quite some time now, while Jimin has been sneaking glances at her, trying to grasp her expression but sees nothing but wistfulness in her faraway eyes.

 

“Just how you used to like playing in the snow so much back when we were–” together, “Back when we were young.”

 

Jimin swallows. “You loved it too.”

 

Minjeong shakes her head, smiling. “It was too cold.”

 

“Then why did you join me every single time?”

 

Minjeong takes a while to reply and Jimin realizes how stupid her question is.

 

“If I didn’t, then who would?” Because I loved you, goes without saying.

 

They lapse in silence. Jimin watches the tiny splashes on puddles, the way the water ripples. Rain had slowed considerably into a moderate shower.

 

“What made you change your mind?” she asks.

 

“About what?”

 

“About…this.” Jimin answers, “Did Yizhuo convince you to give me another chance?”

 

Minjeong considers this. “No, she didn’t.”

 

Jimin waits, the pouring rain akin to sand in an hourglass, trickling slowly but surely.

 

“I thought about it. A lot.” MInjeong admits, gazing up at the dreary gray sky. “I thought that you might be going through…difficulties and I realized that I won’t ever be able to forgive myself should anything happen to you, knowing that I could’ve done something to ease your sorrow.”

 

Jimin watches the way Minjeong’s eyes reflect the muted light, like sunshine peeking through the stormcloud, and marvels about how somebody can take the gloom and turn it into something beautiful.

 

“I am your friend before I am–before I am anything else.” Minjeong continues, “So I figured–I figured I should play the part.”

 

Warmth blooms from Jimin’s chest, to think that Minjeong would sacrifice her self-preservation in favor of her wellbeing. She’s always been so good. So thoughtful. So selfless. Always giving, giving, and giving.

 

Jimin lays her head on Minjeong’s shoulder, being the parasite that takes, takes, and takes. Minjeong lets her. She closes her eyes.

 

“Thank you.” she whispers.”

 

She wishes for the rain to never stop, for them to stay in that tiny space beneath that tiny awning on that tiny staircase, basking in each other’s warmth with the air raw with honesty and earnest, feeling more loved than she could ever be on any stage.

 

But the hourglass inevitably runs out of sand and Minjeong’s walking her back to her car, side by side in a safe distance, hands back deep in her pockets.

 

“Drive safe.” Minjeong bids goodbye when they reach her car and it terribly feels like a final farewell.

 

Jimin’s puls pounds in . “Can I–” she blurts, desperation seeping in her voice. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

 

She holds her breath. Minjeong stares at her, considering.

 

Please. Please. She refuses to let this be a momentary daydream.

 

“Sure thing.”

 

***

 

Jimin’s selfishness has no bounds, it seems.

 

There is shame in it, yet she can’t seem to stop herself from hoarding all of what MInjeong has to give. They meet up–she demands they meet up, and MInjeong simply agrees–over and over, day by day, until New Year’s eve comes and Jimin has to return to her family home, Minjeong to Busan.

 

She’s been sitting in an inconspicuous corner of their house for more than an hour now, hoping for once that no one would notice her as she stared at the first and last message she sent half an hour ago, barely stopping herself from sending more.

 

Have you arrived in Busan yet? Remains unseen and she bites her lip, forcing her thumb away from the call button.

 

She groans, throwing her head back against the wall. Minjeong has been spoiling her too much. Don’t cross the line, she said. But how can Jimin know her place when Minjeong herself keeps allowing her to close the distance?

 

Minjeong had agreed to their break up. Agreed to stay friends. Agreed to spend time with her if only to ease her loneliness.

 

Minjeong had always agreed. And all Jimin had to do is ask.

 

Maybe Yizhuo was right all along.

 

She thinks of the way Minjeong looks at her, always a little tender. Always a little pained.

 

Do not mistake pity for love, Jimin squashes her growing hope, tying it down and locking it up, hurling the keys to oblivion.

 

As far as her selfishness can go, she must not take more than she is given. This she must remember, lest she ends up losing the little that she does have.

 

Dinner arrives and she is forced to leave her little refuge, joining her family and relatives at the dining table. She eats quietly, wishing to finish her food and get out of there as soon as possible. But of course, no one can escape her aunts’ and uncles’ sharp eyes.

 

“How old are you again this year, Jimin?”

 

The cousins shift uncomfortably on the table, a collective thought of, it’s starting blaring alarms in their heads.

 

Jimin takes a deep inhale, and exhales out a tinkling laugh, pulling back and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “That’s not a question you should ask a woman, auntie.” she replies, words smooth. She raises her brows. “You of all people should know that.” she smiles to smoothen the blow, “However, if you insist, I believe I’m still quite young. What about you, auntie?”

 

The elders chuckle at the barb and the woman huffs out a laugh. The children don't share the humor, minds too lost in preparing for their turn to be grilled.

 

“You and your snark… Quite young indeed. But when we were your age, we all settled down to begin building a family.”

 

Jimin tries not to roll her eyes. She takes a cup of water and sips. She already knows what’s coming next: you’re not getting any younger, Jimin.

 

“You’re not getting any younger, Jimin.” there it is. “We aren’t either. We would appreciate it if we could live to witness you walking down the aisle. Isn’t that right, Jimin’s mom?”

 

Jimin casts a sharp glance at her mom. The woman just shrugs at her and nods at her sister-in-law. “Definitely.”

 

“What happened to that girl? Kim Minjeong?” another aunt of hers asks and Jimin stiffens. “Isn’t she dating that divorce lawyer? I haven’t seen her around.”

 

“Your memory’s rusting, unnie. They’ve already broken up years ago!”

 

“What?” her eyes swivel to Jimin who just wants the ground to open up and swallow her whole, “Is that true?”

 

She clenches her jaw. “Yes.”

 

“Goodness me. What a waste! I liked Minjeong a lot. Very pretty, has a stable job, and very charming too,” she nods approvingly, “A good catch, I’m telling you. I was so sure I’ll be seeing you exchange your wedding vows! Aigoo, Jimin, what did you do?”

 

Jimin just smiles bitterly and wishes they would just go back to picking on her age and state of unmarriedness. Beside her, her cousins give her sympathetic glances.

 

“I remember when you first introduced her to us,” her uncle chuckled, “We were against it, but you fought too hard and that girl was just impossible to resist. Soon we all fell in love with her too.” he shakes his head, “Are you still in touch with her?”

 

Jimin swallows thickly, pushing down the memories. “Yes, we–we are still friends.”

 

“Oh that’s great!” her aunt exclaims, “Invite her next time around then, yes? Just a friendly dinner. I’m sure there’s nothing bad about that.”

 

Jimin stretches her lips, hopes it resembles a smile. “I’ll try.”

 

They go on with their reminiscing and Jimin spitefully sips more water, wanting nothing more than to stuff her ears with wax and be deaf to her family reveling in her ruined love life, unhear the words that stir the longing in her gut, unearthing memories from years ago, memories she had already forgotten.

 

She closes her eyes. Open them. Closes again. And when she opens them once more she sees Minjeong, shining and golden with fire still dancing in her eyes, yet to be extinguished by Jimin’s cruelty overpowering her relatives’ dreary disposition. She’s sitting with them on the table, smiling and laughing and oh, how Jimin wants to see her like that again, glowing with life and reckless abandon.

 

She closes her eyes again. That’s what you ruined.

 

She trades her water for soju.

 

The night goes on.

 

The elders disperse to their board games and gossip, the children heading out to the yard to prepare the fireworks. Jimin remains seated at the dinner table, drinking her sorrows away and pretending she doesn’t see the image of Minjeong her mind had conjured, still sitting with her even after everybody had left.

 

She downs the alcohol, shot after shot, attempting to drown the emotions and numb the pain but all it did was wash away rationality and accentuate the ache, leaving only the burning yearning in her system.

 

Halfway through her third bottle, the clock strikes eleven. It’s almost Minjeong’s birthday, her inebriated mind remembers and she abruptly stands, swaying lightly on her feet, and stumbles outside the house.

 

The cold winter night sobers her up, albeit only slightly, and she makes her way to the street, unnoticed by her family all gathered in the backyard preparing for the countdown.

 

She sits by the sidewalk, waiting for a cab. There are barely any vehicles on the road tonight, everyone probably in their warm houses with their families to meet the new year. The longer she sits there, the more the fog of alcohol fades away. Still, her decision is the same.

 

She finally gets a cab. She hops on, and states the address to Minjeong’s apartment without hesitation. In a blur of city lights and empty streets, Jimin finds herself in Minjeong’s building, pacing before her unit’s door.

 

It’s stupid, she realizes belatedly now that she’s clear-headed enough. Whatever she’s trying to attempt, it’s futile. Minjeong Isn't home. She’s spending the new years–and her birthday–at Busan with her family. Jimin huffs petulantly, forcefully plopping down on the floor, and leaning back against Minjeong’s door in a way of throwing a tantrum.

 

She fishes out her phone. Minjeong still hasn’t replied to her message.

 

“Stupid…” she mumbles to herself, “So stupid–gah!”

 

The door behind her seems to have vanished and she falls on her back, heart jumping in surprise. What the–

 

“Jimin-unnie?”

 

Her heart stops, and then races off again. She tips her head a little further back. Minjeong’s looking down at her, utterly confused.

 

“H-Hi!”

 

Minjeong frowns. “Why are you on the floor?”

 

Jimin immediately gets up to her feet. Her head spins. She grabs the doorway to steady herself, hopes she looks suave and not clumsy. “I didn’t expect you to be home.”

 

Minjeong’s still frowning, but this time of a mild concern. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

 

“Ah–well,” Jimin rubs her nape. Her mind is blank, head empty. “I just–happy birthday?”

 

She hasn't had enough soju for this.

 

“It’s not yet 12.”

 

“Advanced happy birthday then.”

 

Minjeong tilts her head, apprehensive, before she steps aside. “Come in, unnie. It’s cold outside.”

 

“Thanks. Pardon the intrusion.” she mumbles, walking past Minjeong and stepping out of her shoes to step into the home of her past.

 

She pads lightly on the mahogany panels, heading to the living room. She passes the kitchen, sees the table set for two. Her heart wrenches.

 

“You, uh, you with someone right now?” she casually asks–well, as casual as she can, anyway.

 

“No,” Minjeong answers, following right behind her.

 

“Expecting someone then?”

 

“No,”

 

Jimin stops, turning to face Minjeong who also pauses.

 

“It’s just…” Minjeong shrugs, “Force of habit.”

 

Jimin blinks. She looks at the table again. Force of habit. Oh. Did she–

 

“Why don’t you go sit while I get you something to drink?” Minjeong breaks through her thoughts, words all too rushed to be natural. Jimin watches her go with a heavy heart, says nothing about it, and sits on the living room couch as she was asked.

 

Minjeong soon returns with a cup of hot cocoa, complete with a pile of marshmallows the way Jimin likes it. She accepts the drink with thanks, and they sip in silence, sitting side by side.

 

“Why are you here?” Jimin breaks the ice.

 

A quirk of amusement on Minjeong’s lips, “This is my house.”

 

Jimin’s cheeks flush, “I mean, I thought you’re heading back to Busan.”

 

Minjeong shrugs, “Change of plans. I had to take care of an urgent matter for a client.”

 

“On the eve of your birthday?”

 

Minjeong tilts her head contemplatively, “What’s a birthday if not just another day?” she retorts. “Why are you here?”

 

“To give you your birthday gift.”

 

“Oh?” Minjeong perks up, eyes darting around Jimin. She still loves receiving her presents. “Where?”

 

“You’re looking at her.”

 

Minjeong pauses, leans back, and just stares. Jimin swallows, blood roaring in her ears.

 

When Minjeong still doesn’t speak, Jimin takes the opportunity instead. “I’m sorry, Minjeong-ah.” she starts.

 

But the girl recoils. “You’re drunk again, aren’t you, unnie?”

 

“Wha–”

 

“I can smell liquor on you. Please tell me you didn’t drive all the way here. Or else I will be very, very mad.”

 

Jimin looks at Minjeong’s attempt at putting on a threatening face and feels her chest clog up with affection. “I didn’t. But I’m not drunk–”

 

“Good.” Minjeong grabs her phone, “I’m going to call Yeonseok-oppa to come pick you up–”

 

“I miss you.” Jimin blurts and Minjeong freezes. “I don’t want to go back to that house because all they ever talk about is you and I just really wanted to see you. That’s the real reason why I’m here. Because I miss you, Minjeong-ah.”

 

Minjeong stares at her before slowly putting down her phone. “Well, now you’ve seen me,” she says, cold and quiet, “You can go.”

 

Jimin shakes her head stubbornly, “Please hear me out. I just want to apologize–”

 

“Stop apologizing.” Minjeong snaps, crossing her arms. “What do you want from me, unnie? Seriously? I’ve already done everything, haven’t I? I’m your friend. , I’m trying so hard to be your friend. But you keep showing up and doing things–saying things that a friend isn’t supposed to and I’m just so ing confused–” she abruptly stops to take a breath and in a grim tone, “I’m tired, unnie. Stop pulling me in if you’re not intending to keep me.”

 

Jimin clenches her jaw. This is the Minjeong she knows now: no longer golden and bright but rather gloomy and gray, weary and pained. Like a diamond buried deep in the ashes left in the lava’s wake. Jimin wants to pick her up and wipe her clean, polish her into blinding brilliance once more.

 

Minjeong had always done her bidding. All she has to do is ask.

 

All she has to do is ask.

 

“It’s you.” she reveals, baring her heart out in the open. She unconsciously leans close, itching to reach out and barely stopping herself. “It’s you I want, Minjeong. You’re all I ever wanted. Not just your friendship, but the entirety of you. And I’m sorry. For hurting you and destroying what we had and still being shameless and greedy enough to want you back.”

 

Weightlessness settles in Jimin’s chest but it doesn’t last. Minjeong breathes out a laugh and her heart drops like cement. A few more humorless chuckles follow.

 

“You want me back?” The question is whispered, yet sharp in its delivery and Jimin feels it impale her soul. Minjeong glares at her and she’s close enough to spot tears forming on the corners of her eyes. “Unnie, you ruined my life. You ruined my future. You ruined the entirety of me that you claim to miss and want.” she squeezes her eyes shut. Jimin watches bob up and down and when she speaks, her voice is strained. “I’m sorry but I can’t do this, unnie. You say you want me, but all that’s left of me are the broken pieces you left behind.”

 

“Then let me take responsibility for the damage I’ve caused,” Jimin pleads in a rush, afraid that Minjeong will completely slip away from her reach. She desperately grabs her hands, their noses almost touching. “Let me fix you. Please.”

 

Minjeong shakes her head, smile not reaching her glistening eyes, tired and weary, “Be honest with yourself. You’re not doing this for me. You’re doing this for your own good.” she says, breath hitting Jimin’s skin.

 

The anguish in her voice hurts more than the truth in her words. Jimin holds on to her tighter, pulling close, “You say that as if you don’t want this. As if you don’t want me.”

 

Minjeong’s gaze drops, “I haven’t allowed myself to want for so long,” she says quietly, “And I won’t start now.” she pulls her hands away, “Please leave, unnie.” she says, voice cracking.

 

“Minjeong–”

 

“Leave.” Minjeong repeats, shifting to put distance between them. “Before I do something I regret.”

 

So Jimin stands and leaves her lukewarm cocoa behind. Because Minjeong had always agreed, and maybe it’s about time Jimin does too. Minjeong walks her to the front door, ever courteous and considerate through and through.

 

Jimin’s phone rings just as she finishes putting on her shoes. She pauses, recognizing the alarm she set for 12AM, and straightens up to face Minjeong.

 

“Happy birthday.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Silence envelopes them. This time suffocating. Jimin eyes the floor, finding the pattern interesting.

 

“Good bye, I guess?” she says, the words burning , “I’ll…I’ll stay out of your life. I promise.”

 

Minjeong only hums. Jimin looks up and meets her gaze. They’re unreadable and faraway, looking at Jimin but not seeing. It pains to part from her like this.

 

Jimin takes a step back, turning to leave but a hand grasps her wrist. She turns, surprised, and in a breath when a pair of lips are pressed near hers, exactly where she remembers her mole to be.

 

She stares in disbelief at Minjeong who has already pulled away. “What..?”

 

Minjeong’s mysterious gaze is on her lips. “Sorry,” she mutters, sounding completely unapologetic. “Force of habit.”

 

Something in Jimin cracks. A dam of lava breaking and burning. She grabs Minjeong by the collar and shoves her back inside, capturing her lips in an aggressive dance of teeth and tongue, meant to bruise and cut and hurt.

 

They stagger blindly past the foyer, a messy tangle of ravenous limbs. Minjeong’s hand is buried in Jimin’s hair, pulling, and the ache makes her whimper, liquid fire accumulating in the pits of her stomach. Her other hand is roaming all over the expanse of Jimin’s shoulders, down to the small of her back, sneaking under the layers of clothes to leave goosebumps on skin. Jimin wraps her arms around Minjeong’s waist, gripping the material of her shirt for a sense of gravity.

 

Minjeong’s kisses hurt as much as her words do, soft yet harsh, an all consuming hunger all at once. It’s a release of pent up frustration through every bite, every le of sweet, soft flesh, every purposeful of her tongue that reaches all the right places, knows them by heart, has them mapped in the deep crevices of her mind. Jimin lets herself be consumed, powerless in Minjeong’s ministrations.

 

Among everything else…this would probably be Jimin’s favorite way of atoning for her sins.

 

Minjeong bites down on her lower lip. Iron colors their kiss. She soothes it with a swipe of her tongue. Jimin’s knees buckle and they stumble to the couch of Minjeong’s living room.

 

Jimin plants her knees on the sides of Minjeong’s hips, “What is this all about?” she gasps out between heated exchanges of kisses.

 

“You took too long to leave,” Minjeong breathes, “Now I’ve done something I’m going to regret.”

 

“No,” Jimin whispers, brushing hair away from Minjeong’s eyes, “Don’t regret this. You don’t have to.”

 

“I already am.”

 

Jimin kisses her once, and one turns to two, turns to a hundred more to erase any traces of remorse, urging, begging for Minjeong to allow her to love her again until she tastes salt on Minjeong’s lips and she pulls away, panicking at the sight of tears streaming down Minjeong’s cheeks.

 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, cupping Minjeong’s cheeks and thumbing away at her tears. “Did I hurt you?”

 

Minjeong shakes her head. Her eyes are still closed, still crying. Jimin feels her own vision water as she continues to brush them away, leaning down to softly kiss each closed eyelid, quietly wishing to quell the tears.

 

“I love you–I really do,” Minjeong whispers, raw and broken and the pressure in Jimin’s chest becomes too much that she grits her teeth and swallows the thick lump in to stop herself from breaking down. “But I’m scared. I’m scared because you’re going to leave. We can’t deny that. You’re always going to leave.”

 

“No, I’m not.” Jimin’s voice cracks. “I’m not going to leave you. Not ever again.”

 

Minjeong shakes her head again, “You don’t know that.” she argues, “You told me that all those years ago too, remember? Look where we are now.” she sniffs, “I barely managed to survive the first time and if it happens again I–I don’t think I can handle it.”

 

She opens her eyes and Jimin quietly gasps at the broken shards of glass that have replaced the burning fire in them, all sharp edges cutting and bleeding and she swallows down a sob, pulling Minjeong close to her chest and lets her weep, tears soaking the material of her sweater.

 

This is the product of her destruction. Of her selfishness and avarice. And with the same greed she seeks to mend it, piece it all together again, bind it all with love.

 

“I spoke with the company recently,” she says quietly into her hair when the sobs cease, rubbing comforting circles on the small of her back, “I’m renewing my contract for another three years and I added a few conditions.” she pauses, letting her words sink in, “One of them is being allowed to date whoever I want. Being an asset to the company after all these years, they have agreed to protect me and my partner if my relationship blows over,”

 

Minjeong doesn’t speak, only hiccups and sniffles. She nuzzles further into Jimin’s chest, and then asks, muffled, “What…what does that mean?”

 

Jimin pulls back, gingerly wiping away the excess tears staining Minjeong’s cheeks and adoring the flush of pink across her nose. “It means that I plan to stay with you, for as long as you allow it. If you allow it.'' She gazes into Minjeong’s eyes, hoping to convey the sincerity in her heart before leaning in, opting to let Minjeong feel what her words can only hope to say.

 

She seals a promise in the form of lips pressed Minjeong’s forehead. I love you. On her nose. I love you. Softly, on her lips, gentle and earnest. I love you.

 

She will write it in the ripples of waves, in the sheer lines of the skies, in her heart. She’ll be all the poets, kill them all and take each one’s place in turn, and every time love’s written in all strands it will be Minjeong, Minjeong, Minjeong.

 

She’ll burn it all. Jimin will set the world on fire if it means to be with her.

 

“Let’s heal together, you and I,” she whispers into Minjeong’s lips. “Choose for yourself, Minjeong-ah. Just this once.”

 

Minjeong is quiet. So quiet that her heart stops in those blank spaces of time, anticipating until finally–

 

“You have the kindest intentions. But sometimes, while trying to be kind, you do the cruelest things,” Minjeong lets out a shuddering breath and she nods, nose bumping Jimin’s. “You already know that I would choose you. Over and over again. I would choose you.”

 

Jimin’s face splits into a smile so wide her cheeks feel as though on the verge of ripping apart. Her chest bursts, like Pandora’s box, spewing all grief and keeping all the love. She pulls Minjeong into her arms again, tucks her safely in the crook of her neck, planning to never let go.

 

“Thank you,” she breathes out. Tears well up in her eyes, overwhelmed at the sudden surge of sheer joy that had evaded her for years. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

 

“You better,” comes Minjeong’s reply with a hoarse giggle. The arms around Jimin’s waist tightens. “Can we stay like this for a while?”

 

Jimin nods, a little too eager. “Of course. For as long as you want.”

 

Minjeong melts in her arms in a satisfied sigh and on the skin of Jimin’s neck she feels her smile.

 

“It’s warm.” Minjeong whispers, and Jimin can’t agree more.