The first time they ever talked, Jiyeon was stuck in the rain.

It was supposed to be a sunny day, the news said. Or at least that was what she heard. And Jiyeon, being the exhausted high school senior she was, in need of way more hours of sleep than she was getting to manage to truly focus on anything, didn’t actually have it in her to follow her mother’s demands about bringing that damn umbrella with her for once and not go back home under a terrible storm unprotected yet again.

Like this, she didn’t go after the precious object that was probably hidden in one of the messy spots in her room, too bothered by the effort needed to really care about what was best or not, and, of course, it rained.

It rained a lot. 

To a point she couldn’t help but feel kind of upset at her own stubbornness when her friends had already warned about what the sky intended to bring with it soon. 

And when she found herself stranded, coerced to remain frozen in place as the raindrops kept falling and the thunders kept roaring like they had enough, all she could do was watch, ignore the cold wind making her legs protest, and hope that a miracle would save her since staying there wasn’t something she looked forward to.

Clearly, there were no miracles for her — those were reserved for heaven’s favorites and, up until that point, Jiyeon didn’t dare trust herself to be part of that group. But right as she was starting to resign both to the idea of being stuck and the notion that her mom would be more than pissed at her carelessness, cursing silently under her breath while blaming everything on the excessive hours spent in front of her video game, the ground trembled underneath her feet.

A shiver ran through her.

There was a glow somewhere. 

“Unnie?”

Jiyeon saw the blue umbrella stopping right above her head before she could recognize the owner or the unfamiliar voice calling her in such a way, and once she turned to the side, completely unprepared to find the girl she had only shared nods and polite greetings with due to the mutual friends they had, there was only silence for the falling rain to fill in the gaps forming around the girl’s expectation and Jiyeon’s shock.

Then, Juyeon smiled.

A small, subtle smile Jiyeon had seen a hundred times from afar but never so close to make react like it did there.

And although it was obvious what her intention was, Juyeon’s kindness being just as big and popular as everyone’s love for her, Jiyeon couldn’t help but wonder what were the chances of being her, of being Juyeon, of being them.

“Did I startle you?”

The pause was long in those few seconds that hang between them with a frown. 

Jiyeon denied with her head.

The girl relaxed, taking a glance at the rain once more before looking back at her.

“Come on,” she said in that lively way of hers that denounced the years separating the numbers of their age. “We live close to each other, let's go home together.”

It wasn’t like Jiyeon was in any position to say no. Nor was it rejecting such a kind proposal something Jiyeon would be thrilled to do, anyway. But the mumbled “thank you” she gave as she awkwardly stepped closer to the taller girl also wasn’t one she gave often, and if her fingers closed in a fist when Juyeon chuckled softly at her, offering an arm for her to hold once they started walking and making sure she wouldn’t suffer too much during their way, that was a memory for just her to have.

That afternoon they didn’t talk much: Jiyeon was too busy avoiding getting more wet than she already was to attempt anything and Juyeon was way too good at respecting people’s boundaries to give in to her antsiness. 

The walk was as quiet as their goodbyes when they arrived at the front of Jiyeon’s house and although Jiyeon could already feel the piercing eyes of an angered parent regardless of the walls between them, the first thing that rushed across her mind — aside from her hopes of Juyeon getting home safely as well — was the wish that they wouldn’t end at that, that there would be more of that Juyeon for her to see and get to know; that Juyeon wouldn’t be just another fleeting passage in a long list of dull occasions. 

And that, in itself, was quite… Unusual, especially for someone who could barely care about what wasn’t her friends, her games, and finishing school to finally go live the life she planned for herself. But Jiyeon shrugged it off as a mere effect of her thankfulness, choosing to kill her hunger first and deal with the nagging as well as the shivering of her body later, and when the thunders grew anxious, she shut the door of her room to sink in her bed and forget about anything that wasn't blue umbrellas and kind smiles against the loudness of it all.

That time, the storm didn’t settle until the next morning — one Jiyeon woke up feeling kinda weird, with a foreign taste in .

And when she left her house to be welcomed by the aftermath of what could’ve been a nightmare, still dizzy with the usual impatience towards that ever so boring routine, Jiyeon was definitely not prepared to be faced by the sight of Son Juyeon approaching with a warm expression on her face and that golden spirit to brighten up more than just her morning, sending away whatever complaint she could have jumping at the tip of her tongue and making her freeze in her tracks once again despite the absence of the freezing breeze to pinch her skin.

That was the start of it all — a day Jiyeon would write about for years to come. 

Back then, at that naive point where she had yet to become used to how dazzling Juyeon was, there was no way she could have anticipated what accepting a walk home would give her, much like it was impossible to guess how big of a part Juyeon would play in her story or how weird it would be to think of herself without Juyeon’s name by hers in the near future, and by the time the awkward politeness was dropped and being close turned into a necessity rather than a random option, they were already them. Already two. Already written as one though their beauty remained while standing apart. 

Since then there was no letting go — not when Jiyeon had to move out first and Juyeon had to learn about patience, not when they both hit no-exit rooms in the middle of their personal paths and releasing their grasp was way less painful than holding on. 

And though they may have had their periods of distance during graduations and college entrances, though they may have faced some issues keeping in touch when student life was such a mess and part-time jobs definitely didn’t help in making their way any easier, they persisted in their choice for each other — always each other —, and whenever fate threw them its whys, searching for weak spots and hitting right where it hurt the most, they were never afraid to go through every reason possible and every explanation they had for remaining.

Eventually, as one hopes and prays, things started to crawl to their rightful place. 

They weren’t even close to getting figured out, sure, and age did its jobs at bringing to the surface what they’d rather let drown in oblivion, but now the nights awake were paying off, the countless cups of coffee tasted better and the early mornings weren’t so bad: they could see a future, and even if they were far away from the oasis they dreamed of reaching, they were at least one step closer, one decision nearer to getting just there — to winning their reprieve.

Still, throughout the scenes of the movie they happened to star in together, there were breaks, short intermissions that didn’t follow the victories and losses forming the blocks of success, and when they weren’t running up and down, answering calls upon calls and pretending to be more serious, or mature, than they could afford to be in that poor state of survival, they were just them.

Just lost.

Just Jiyeon and Juyeon; just two people who couldn’t learn or yield.

And somewhere between the transitions that didn’t include flashing cameras and responsibilities heavier than they could carry, Jiyeon saw the birth of what would be considered an astonishing event had any scientist been in her shoes while it happened but which she came down to understand as the ruin of everything she had ever known. 

Because lightning struck again each time she allowed distraction to get the best of her, and when they did…

She was the target they aimed to destroy.

“Don’t zone out,” came the fakely upset warning that hoped to bring Jiyeon back from her thoughts but, in reality, couldn’t do so much as make her flinch. Jiyeon made a face. “You’ll end up sleeping if you do and you promised me tonight was our night.”

“You zone out and I say nothing,” she complained with a scowl.

Juyeon shook her head, teasing.

“Well, it’s not like I stay out for so long you have to wonder if I’m still here with you.”

Juyeon didn’t turn to her right away, actually entertained by the movie Jiyeon had long forgotten about to focus on what was more important. And, honestly, Jiyeon deemed it a good thing given that if she had done it, if she had moved just a bit, she would have caught the unrestrained glint of awe in Jiyeon’s eyes with every piece she studied, would have noticed her restlessness with every inch of beauty Jiyeon had been hung up on like she would never get the opportunity to see it in someone else, and that wasn’t a secret Jiyeon intended to have it stolen from her as a result of her carelessness.

Because she knew it. 

Had a feeling that she shouldn’t look at her friend like the stars had blessed her personally and her entire purpose from there on was to worship Juyeon in her singularity. 

And when Juyeon’s eyes trailed its path to her like it did at that moment, placing a spotlight on the air they were sharing so closely and sending the older one's gaze to her lips in an unavoidable pattern Juyeon was more than used to by now, a voice yelled at her that none of this was right.

It wasn't right for her to be so guiltless about what ran in her veins whenever Juyeon showed her what was so good about loving someone.

It wasn't right for her to let their closeness get to her head and tempt her to want, make her force herself not to act on impulse and give permission to her mind to do turns fantasizing about large beds and messy sheets where Juyeon was on top of her, kissing her like that was their last chance, making a show of red ink on her neck and letting her hands wander to trespass the fabric of her shirt to caress, to squeeze her way into Jiyeon's reason and lure Jiyeon's back to arch like she was a conductor and Jiyeon was but the symphony she ought to get it perfectly even if only once.

None of this was fair to what they had built through so much effort and Jiyeon knew it, was fully aware that her greediness could only be a benefit if the outcome wasn't a tragedy, but her skin cried under the heat of the sun itself whenever she was under Juyeon’s touch and as they sat there like they had done a thousand times, dangling with the future and a past that couldn't wait for the present to stop playing God, all Jiyeon did was stare.

Stare like Juyeon was the love her favorite poet wrote her about, stare like she was on the verge of being reduced to ashes if Juyeon’s lips kept refusing to kill this itch making her quiver.

Because it was shameless and Jiyeon wouldn't lie: she knew Juyeon felt every hiss and bite that intensity could hold — there was no effort in hiding it, to begin with — and she wasn't too naive to believe that Juyeon, too, didn't wonder what she tasted like in her high. But as simple as it would be for her to grab the younger one by the neck and finish that test off for good, explore their curiosities and lower that fever keeping them on alert… That was Juyeon. 

That was the girl she had grown to love and the woman she would put her very soul on the line to protect. 

And if there were gears that weren't made to be moved without caution, if there lines that shouldn't be crossed for the sake of the preservation of a rare jewel, then there were words that shouldn't be spoken too loudly — affections that should kneel to tolerance sooner or later —, and if the recklessness that had guided Jiyeon throughout every hell and madness she stumbled into could be a savior, then she was sure it could also become the villain of her narrative in a blink.

Unfortunately, though, she was sick of villains — could no longer handle fixing the damage they left behind as often as she regretted underestimating them.

So instead of letting the poison spill, her fingers went towards Juyeon's hand on her thigh to bring it to her lips, the confused expression the younger one had at the kiss laid there making it clear how the act didn't match the casualness of their surroundings, but it served as the statement Jiyeon needed to make and, although Juyeon most certainly had her own knots to untie in her solitude, the last thing she ever had to offer Jiyeon was rejection.

So she caressed the back of Jiyeon’s hand as if to say “I get it”.

And when Jiyeon faltered, taken by the ghost of uncertainty, Juyeon held her together like letting her go down alone wasn’t something she would ever be capable of doing.

“You’re such a crybaby,” the older one sighed, retreating to that false sense of steadiness the chaos of the world outside gave in contrast to her own as Juyeon tilted her head and made her bite her tongue not to whine — Juyeon was way too adorable.

“I have to be, or else you won’t pay attention to me.”

“Son Juyeon.”

“Kim Jiyeon.”

The older one rolled her eyes with a groan, not at all used to being called by her full name by Juyeon but not as annoyed as she would be if it was anyone else, and it was obvious that it wouldn’t take long for that brief incident to be thrown in their box of unspeakable things and be pushed to the side like Juyeon’s eyes weren’t dark with a lot more than the desire Jiyeon was dying to be stained by and Jiyeon wasn’t a stage closer to losing control of whatever stoicism she had so diligently nurtured throughout the years.

It was a game of sorts — one they carried not as a challenge but as a mark of boundaries they couldn't surpass without sureness and courage to back them up.

That was how things were for them, in the end; slow and oh so patient in its impatience that it would sound funny to anyone who didn’t know the whole story, and Jiyeon had no one to blame. Had no one to ask for solutions when said solutions had been right under her nose since the very first moment the butterflies in her stomach stopped their natural trail to follow Juyeon’s. And though moving past how upsetting this push and pull was could be a trial, that wasn’t a one-sided agreement, and as such, breaking it wasn’t something she could do alone, led solely by her own conflicted feelings.

Perhaps, Jiyeon thought, that was where cracks and scratchers first began to form before eventually showing up: all the denying and concealing was quite the draining process when done with such constancy, and Jiyeon, while strict in her loyalty to it, didn’t notice when blindness rose to take her best intentions and things up.

Because suddenly the wind was in rage. 

The shiny points that had once guided her without hesitation had been diminished to that emptiness that muddled her senses to insanity.

And when she finally managed to jump off the haze of that confusion, once her obliviousness finally quit trapping her, it hit her— 

She was losing Juyeon.

“Don’t you ever wanna leave?”

The older one blinked, taken aback by the abrupt question.

“Leave?”

“This place, this boringness,” Juyeon said with a thoughtful tone Jiyeon couldn’t really decipher. “This dullness.”

Jiyeon pulled her eyes away from the orange setting sun to tie them to her friend, sipping at the remains of her iced americano and trying to catch what was it that Juyeon was truly asking her.

She tapped her finger on the table, uneasy in the face of Juyeon’s distress. “I do. More often than not,” she confessed, biting her lip slightly. “But then I remember why I haven’t done it when I had the chance.” Her gaze fell into Juyeon’s, their hands mere millimeters away from touching. “That’s enough to make me regret it less.”

It was Juyeon’s turn to blink out of surprise and Jiyeon watched as she took in her words, nodded to herself as if she had just solved an important puzzle and shrank in her seat like that answer wasn’t as effective in killing her restlessness as she hoped it would be.

“It’s hard, Juyeon-ah,” Jiyeon called, unsure of what was really going on behind that troubled aura but being too bothered by the absence of the usual Juyeon to keep it shut. “This isn’t what I dreamed for myself either and most days… I’m just a body,” she clicked her tongue, at last sensing some reaction from the younger one. “But I hold on until I can see you again, and when I can’t, the world makes sure to remind me why I do what I do.”

She felt a hand slipping under hers, the coldness of Juyeon’s fingers not a match she was familiar with but she didn’t pull away — never.

“Maybe one day I’ll quit and leave. You’re allowed to do that as well,” she pointed with her head to the view laid out in front of them, squeezing Juyeon’s hand. “For me, I guess, I’d rather it be out of genuine desire rather than just as a runaway. I don’t want to look back and feel like the what ifs were worth more than what I got in the end.”

They stayed quiet for a while for Juyeon to process what she heard, the sky getting darker and darker as their coffee evaporated and the breeze got colder.

Then Juyeon breathed in.

“What happens if that doesn’t work anymore?” 

Jiyeon looked at her with a deeper frown after that pained whisper.

“What happens if leaving seems like the only way out but staying is what you know is the right thing to do?” Her swallow was thick enough for Jiyeon to sense its anxiousness. “What do I do if nothing makes sense anymore? If my reasons alone no longer work like they should?”

Speechlessness took her before she could evade its claws.

Juyeon just denied with her head, surrendering in a way she had never done before.

Their relationship hadn’t changed. 

Neither did their need for keeping each other close ceased; no, not really. 

They were still them, still walking — and still wanting to walk — the same path, and Juyeon didn’t let her doubt for a single second about how strong their bond was or how far they were ready to go for each other despite the odds and the wounds