She doesn’t want to admit it out loud, but Chorong has been thinking about this day for the whole week.

It’s not so much the actual day that she thinks about but who she sees because of this day – the face who’s the main character of her recent dreams, when the bed feels colder and bigger than usual, the scent that lingers around home, sometimes on her own clothes, the warmth that only visits when the rolling cameras haven’t stolen her away.

Chorong waits. 

Her heart feels like it’s stuck at , and it shouldn’t be, because they text almost everyday. She knows what Eunji eats, what she does, down to what she wears, even if she’s not physically in front of her. The blonde shakes it off, gulping down some water to calm her nerves.

Chorong waits, again; first patiently, then impatiently, her feet unconsciously tapping against the chair leg. 

“Somebody’s awfully excited,” Namjoo says, clearly amused by the way she can’t stay still. The older woman rolls her eyes at the comment, hugging herself and that’s when she hears the click of the door.

When Eunji finally arrives, it’s like the air escapes her lungs. She walks through the door with a wide smile, like she always does, brightening the room with her mere presence as she greets the staff. And Chorong’s eyes can’t stop following her, can’t help the way her body reacts when they’re in the same room, especially after a long while. She knows she’s been regularly hitting the gym, being the receiver of her many suggestive texts and playful pictures, and it’s so evident all over her body in actuality, her outfit accentuating her broad shoulders and fit legs in all the right places. Her eyes look a little tired but it’s lightly concealed under her makeup, and also because Chorong knows she does an extremely good job at hiding it in professional environments.

(Because Eunji is nothing but the embodiment of strength and determination—)

There’s a pretty smile she makes that reaches her eyes and the older woman can physically feel her own pulse run wild. She might be two years older, but she thinks there is just so much she could learn from her. So much to admire, so much more to love. 

(—and it continues to make her affection grow every passing day.)

Then, the black-haired woman is finally looking back at her and her breath catches. Her smile immediately becomes softer, a fond gaze so familiar, s