Reader discretion is advised: heavy themes ahead. Look out for the possibly heavy topics these things entail: closure, therapy, pretending to be okay and in one room/apartment with someone you are not okay with. Just saying, to those who can get therapy or are thinking of getting it, please don’t let this affect your decision. This is fiction and as much as I want to lecture people, I’ll just say: solving your problems and doing to get over your problems is something only YOU can do. But the best thing abt therapy is, it makes you realize that only you can solve them because only YOU have the power to. As much as there isn’t anything triggering here, it is straight up heavy. I’m keeping some stuff vague but do note these narrations and expressions of what they feel aren’t to be taken literally. I worded them that way to not belittle their problems but feel that relief of finally understanding them. Also, this is probably the most reliable moment for our narrator. Good for her.

A/N: I wonder if everyone suspected me to make a time skip so I can fix things. Or any cliches those dramas do to wrap up a story real quick. Sorry to disappoint, YOU ARE WRONG! I’m built different. This is literally like a few hours after chap 9’s capade with the usual pacing of the story. ALT TITLE: post nut clarity finally hits them HARD

It’s painfully awkward. It’s heavy. Everything feels like stabbing through the heart.

Wheein has been pretending to be asleep. But she’s still awake. She has not slept.

Byulyi knows. She can notice irregular breathing and Wheein snores when she sleeps.

The tension– the abhorrent clarity of post- made them feel so bound.

They both don’t want to address the elephant in the room. They both don’t want to address anything. They both–

“I didn’t mean it.” Wheein finally says. She also knows Byulyi’s awake. Byulyi either kicks her or hugs her when she is actually asleep. “I didn’t mean to say I wish you meant nothing to me.”

“I…thank you.” Byulyi really needed that. “I’m sorry for being overbearing. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. That’s why I want therapy, I at loving you.”

“What?” Wheein finally faces her.

“What?” Byulyi does the same.

“You love me?” Her eyes, hopeful and twinkling– lips threatening to smile.

“I… still do.” Byulyi smiles, equally hopeful.

“I’m… sorry but I–” Wheein chokes, coughs, but continues. “I can’t– I don’t deserve that.”

Byulyi laughs– bitter.

“It’s okay. It’s for the best. Two lefts don’t make a right.” Byulyi says, getting up. “I just wish it wasn’t this hard. This… messy.”

“It’s not okay. Two lefts don’t make a right but it puts you back where you started.” Wheein also gets up. “It’s… I don’t want… us to end.”

“But we can’t. We’re not… healthy. I can’t fix you, you can’t fix me.”

“I know… but I meant to say, two lefts return you but not completely reset you. Uhm– I mean, I guess it takes… some time to realize I still need help. I’m back to where I started– but this time, I know where I went wrong.”

“Hey, it takes two to up a relationship. I wasn’t the best either. I also need help.”

“I have to go.” Wheein finally gets up. Byulyi’s eyes follow her, so many unsaid things– so many promises she wants to– “I just… hope I don’t take too long.”

Byulyi hopes. Byulyi waits.

Byulyi could only wish she’s walking with someone– that reassure her it'll be alright– as she goes in, to address her problems face on. Byulyi wishes someone could hold her hand and tell her she can do it with a dimpled smile– a contagious laugh–

“Ms. Moon?”

She had to go to therapy someday, I mean, she did schedule one immediately after it was suggested to her. So today– this saturday, she went to her first session.

She’s shaking in her boots– did she overdress? Did she over prepare with a list? How the hell does this work anyway?

She could really use a hug– someone warm and familiar– someone who saw her worst through and through–

Byulyi doesn’t notice how it’s only been twelve minutes in this therapy session and she’s already crying and somehow laughing. She didn’t know it wasn’t just her and it wasn’t her fault for being forgetful– for having unaddressed and repetitive trauma– for having suppressed it all in paper– in words– in pictures and art but never really… letting it out to the person that’s still there.

To the person that can and has listened to her stories, every time. To the person that's just there, ready to hear anything. From sad to funny, that person always reciprocated with a dimpled smile.

It’s so silly, her problems are so… so silly. It doesn’t look as scary– dark and confusing as it was. Her problems weren’t because of one single thing; it isn’t her.

It’s a lot and now that she can see the connections of them– she’s getting excited to… address it. Make a list– a song– a playli– something to make it make sense to her.

Because– and this she realized a bit late, funnily enough, when you comprehend and understand something, it looks so clear. When you shed light to the unknown– make them known– it’s silly that you were scared in the first place.

When she left the session– she felt smarter somehow. Wiser– stronger– a bit fickle and sensitive right now but– she can finally understand the saying: what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

It didn’t hit her how strong she is– for having survived loss over and over, for having wounds over barely healed scars– blood over bandages– problem over problem– but she’s still here. In spite of them all, she’s breathing and that, in itself is amazing enough.

She feels great. She hopes though, she also feels this great. She also feels this amazed with herself– with her relentless strength. She wishes– in threes,

She’ll be alright.

She’ll see her.

Smile. Laugh. Together.

She hopes, again.

Wheein learns several truths as of late.

It does wonders to have a therapist. She finds herself having words to describe her struggles, names to her feelings, and