Joohyun was a very restrained person.
 

She learned from a very young age that feeling too much could be frightening to the people she presented her feelings to. Her body was a vessel to a wide range of emotions, none too soft or too aggressive, yet all very intense and assertive when they came out. At first, she spared no one of the truth of her feelings – anger would receive its justice and be acknowledged just as much as happiness, and her love would never be concealed.
 

However, loss after loss, heartbreak after heartbreak, Joohyun had had enough of losing. In her juvenile mind of only fifteen, it all traced back to the same place: her honesty of heart. The world was a place of mask and shadows, a place where mystery remained the norm when dealing with the other – the more you reveal, the weaker you make yourself. And the human society did not take their weak kindly. If the first spark of true humanity was to tend to their weak, humankind now strayed far from what made them different from most other animals. Either way, the world was too big, and she was too small.
 

And, just like that, her dreams and uniqueness were crushed mercilessly beneath the weight of rejection. Her truth gave way to omission, and she felt the flames in her chest dying down until she became an empty shell; clean, empty and waiting for the world to fill her with whatever it thought would fit better.
 

When Joohyun got to college at age twenty-three, she was nothing but a ghost of what she used to be. Every trace of her individuality had been erased by shame and a feeling of unfitness that tasted like defeat every time she thought about it too much. Still, after all the hard work to conceal what the world rejected, life still seemed to put her through trials and probations to prove that she could hide as much of her as she possibly could – and should, she thought.
 

Her flatmate at college made it all harder.
 

Seungwan was a bright young woman, always very lively and almost scarily amicable since the very day she met her. Her laugh was boisterous and free of guilt, and she acted in silly and gentle ways that made Joohyun wonder how the world hadn’t strangled her liveliness yet. She made lots of friends; smiled as if she had no worries to bother; loved baking and singing, both which she performed with perfection; she danced terribly and still she insisted on doing so because it made her feel light and nice. And if her talent with instrument chords wasn’t enough, she had tugged at Joohyun’s heartstrings without a clue, too.
 

At the first time Seungwan caught her hand in hers, Joohyun thought she would have a heart attack. It had been long since her heart had sung, and she knew what she had to do. When the heart sings too loudly, people run away. So, as soon as she could act without seeming unpolite, Joohyun brought her hand back close to her body, rubbing her palm as if to clean away the younger woman’s inviting warmth.
 

The spectre of Seungwan’s touch haunted her for weeks.
 

Still, as afraid as she was of the things Seungwan evoked within her, she felt drawn to her flatmate like a moth to light – mercilessly, knowing it would probably lead to her end, and yet, she felt as if there was no other way but that way. So, when Seungwan talked, Joohyun listened to it word by word, absorbed every sentence like the body did with poison. She was completely enthralled by Seungwan’s every word and thought, by her kindness of heart and her genuine happiness. The younger woman seemed to open herself entirely for Joohyun to see, and she was as terrified as she was amazed. It soon became her favorite thing: Listening to Seungwan talk was nicer than any time alone, and her voice sounded better than any music.
 

Once, when they sat side by side on Seungwan’s bed, the younger woman said, after a prolonged silence:
 

“You’re always so quiet. Even when I talk and talk nonstop. I hope I’m not bothering you,” she smiled coyly.
 

Joohyun’s eyes widened with sudden despair. She didn’t want Seungwan to think that she didn’t enjoy listening to her. She wanted nothing but to say how much she treasured the younger woman’s presence, her tales of life and her loud, beautiful laugh, yet the words seemed to curl inside like a ball of prickly vines. The truth was always hurtful to her; truth made people scared. So, she watered it down the most she could, wishing for Seungwan to stay, always.
 

“I don’t mind listening,” and as she met Seungwan’s eyes, the brown shade that felt more like home more than her house ever did, she avoided her glance. Nothing like the sight of her feet to remind her that she will always be bound to earth and its cruel rules.
 

“I would enjoy listening to you, too,” Seungwan smiled, and her glance was so comforting and inviting that it felt like the closest thing Joohyun had gotten to a hug in a long time. Too long.
 

She swallowed heavily. “There’s nothing to be said. I’m as simple as you see. Nothing to see here.”
 

Her flatmate hummed thoughtfully.
 

“I believe there’s a lot to see in there. It’s hidden in the way you move; in the way you listen. I’d like to find it all out. To get to know you. But there’s no rush, though. I don’t mind waiting,” she smiled warmly, and Joohyun’s heart felt like it was going to burst from hearing those words, those impossible strings of words. And, when Seungwan put her hand over her upper arm and squeezed it affectionately, Joohyun felt scared and desperate, absolutely terrified at the hunger that awakened inside her for her soft touch and attention, for her tenderness. “I guess it’s my time to go to bed now. Thank you so much for being the best listener I could have. I hope that I can be the same to you, someday. But for now, I can only wish you goodnight. So… sweet dreams!”
 

Although Joohyun felt breathless, she pushed out the words, almost heaving; thankful that her voice had grown so low that her frightened heart couldn’t peek through it.
 

“Thank you. Rest well.”
 

That night, she went to sleep filled with guilt; guilty of having let Seungwan have any expectations of her being someone worthy of Seungwan’s time. She felt like there was nothing good for Seungwan to see in her, and where the ghost of her flatmate’s touch burned, she desperately tried to erase the feeling, forcefully shutting the gates of her personality which she had locked so fervently. Her feelings were screaming once more, and they were too strong and loud. She needed to be stronger – she couldn’t bear to see Seungwan run away, too.
 

As much as she tried to shut herself away, Seungwan only seemed to walk further towards her, to reach closer with her hand, beckoning her to come near. She asked Joohyun how her day had been, always, when they both got home; she offered her help, offered a bite of anything tasty she munched on, and to hang out with her friends, all which Joohyun desperately declined. However, whenever Seungwan asked her to accompany her to do things alone, like watching movies or doing things as simple as grocery shopping, Joohyun couldn’t bear to say no, not when her addiction to Seungwan’s presence only seemed to get worse and harder to fight.
 

One night, when they were watching a Ghibli movie together, Seungwan ever the casual movie commenter and Joohyun as quiet as usual, Seungwan suddenly chirped:
 

“Ghibli food seems so tasty, doesn’t it?” As she moved to look at Joohyun’s face, her knee bumped into Joohyun’s, though she did nothing to move it back. “It always seems so good. I feel like my mouth begins to water just by looking at it.”
 

“It’s drawn very prettily, yes,” she answered carelessly, her attention caught entirely by the feeling of Seungwan’s skin against hers. felt like it was closing, leaving her breathless. Just the sight of her lips, so close as they were, were making Joohyun feel like she was having a panic attack.
 

“What’s your favorite food?” Seungwan asked.
 

“I- I don’t really think about it too much. Anything will do.”
 

“Well, but there must be something you like a lot! More than other things,” she chuckled lightly, scoffing good-humouredly at Joohyun.
 

“I… I like tteokbokki, I guess,” her words came