Wheein looks at the cafe they go to every Wednesday and Saturday. She failed to notice the ramen shop down the next block. Was it always there?

Okay, she might be nervous and looking at everything. Noticing everything, questioning everything.

Panicking.

As she was in deep thought about… a lot of things all at once, she fails to recognize the person -wearing a creamy knitted sweater and white polo with black hair cascading down contrasting the light theme of her top- brushing past her.

Skin on skin.

A zap. A shock.

It breaks both of them out of their trance. Thick black frames meet glassy eyes.

“Oh! Wheein-ah.” Her voice. Wow. “What are you doing, standing outside for?” Byulyi started rubbing the hand that was shocked. Shocked because it was charged. And friction- skin- just made it release. Release Wheein out of her trance and worries.

“Ah, I just noticed that ramen shop over there.” Wheein pointed, hoping Byulyi to finally look away from her. Because if their eyes meet Wheein might lose all her courage. Because both of their eyes were too honest. Too open. Too bare. Too real.

And their eyes always have this melancholic feeling that is in between permissions and farewells. The painful in-between of wanting to let go but needing to hold on. Their eyes always say those. Each time they enter this cafe. Every Wednesday. Every Saturday.

That’s why when they finally went in to order their usuals, Wheein felt safe. Far and safe. Far from the painful reality and safe. Detached.

Their usuals were unusual to Byulyi. She used to love it when her own coffee was barely coffee and mostly milky sweetness. The old Wheein also used to love black coffee because If the coffee is not strong enough to fight me, then it is not strong enough to keep me awake. Byulinie.

But now? Well…

Byulyi holds on to her cup as she sits down across Wheein. She stares at her reflection. Her reflection in black coffee.

While Wheein, despite the coldness of the outside morning, is sipping on an iced coffee. Specifically, White chocolate mocha without whip and less espresso but not decaf.

The same order she would obnoxiously recite each time the old Wheein asks her what coffee she wants. The same usual order this Wheein would recite in perfect -seemingly memorized- order.

Wheein nervously fiddled with the discarded straw wrapped and looked outside the window. Or anywhere else other than the woman staring at her coffee. Is she drinking it incorrectly? Does she look weird? Why is Byulyi staring at her coffee as if it was hers?

“Unnie…” Wheein sounded sad, she didn’t mean to, so she tried fixing it. “Do you remember…” Now she just sounds a little too honest. Because her voice was softer, smaller, unsure and uncertain. But when she finally looked at Byulyi’s eyes, they were honest as always.

Honest and excited. It looked somewhere along the lines of glint of anticipation and a shimmer of hope. It gave Wheein the courage to continue.

“-the time we went out for movies? Titanic I think?” Wheein was still hesitant, as if she was trying to learn how to ride a bike without training wheels. But looking at Byulyi, her eyes and everything beyond them, gave her the strength to continue.

“We were laughing at the scene where Jack died in the cold because you told me if it were you, you would’ve saved Rose with a hug.” Wheein smiled in unison as Byulyi and she continued, almost with laughter threatening to break loose. “And I said-”

“Just because you hug me when I’m cold doesn’t mean you can survive the Arctic cold.” Byulyi, all too excitedly, too giddily, finished for her.

“Yeah!”

And for the first time in too long. For the first time again.

Byulyi hears Wheein’s laughter. The boisterous slapping-induced laughter that made everyone else join even if there wasn’t a punchline. Because of her laughter, Jung Wheein’s laughter is funny in itself.

The value of it is within itself.

Intrinsic. Infectious.

Contagious. Conflict-free.

Unapologetic. Unserious.

It was very much how they met. And that memory Byulyi completed for her, was the first.

The first time Wheein recalled something. The first time her laughter became hers again. The first time… they went out as a couple.

“Wait, I think I can find it here somewhere.” Byulyi gets her phone, flinching at how cold it was and how warm her hands became. “I think I can tell you when it was.”

Wheein looks at her- Byulyi was so excited like a little hamster ready to run on the wheel or whatever hamsters do with so much excitement. Wheein, smitten and lost in her emotion-filled trance, failed to notice her iced coffee is getting staler. The ice was melting as she held onto her drink with her warm hands.

“You look so happy, Byulinie.”

Those words came so easily as she said it. Like it was the most correct thing in the world. And she didn’t even notice. Wheein looked shocked that Byulyi stopped. Stopped like she’s malfunctioning.

Like she’s processing the process of processing emotions.

Or… in shock.

“What did you just call me?” Byulyi’s voice sounded offended but happy. Her eyes also looked aghast but adoring.

“Did I say that out loud?” Wheein was just playing what she said in her head. She didn’t mean for it to slip out.

“Y-yeah.” Byulyi goes back to a functioning human and looks at her phone in a less enthusiastic and less bright light.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh?” Byulyi is still scrolling. “Uhm, yeah.”

She wasn’t looking at her. She wasn’t meeting her gaze. She was… hiding her eyes.

But why?

“Omo! Here it is!” Byulyi, as if her previous emotions never existed, showed Wheein what was on her phone.

It was them. And this image Byulyi took and posted for them, was her first.

Her first time in forever, to see a picture and get a scene in her head to play.

Her first time in what felt like never, to feel all emotions coming back as if it were yesterday.

Her first time in frustrating whatevers and hopeful whenevers, to replay such a vivid memory like it’s today.

To play a memory like it happened yesterday. To replay a scene like it’s happening today.

Today was the 22nd of December. The very numbers and dates in this post.

Happy Birthday, Byulinie, my walking and talking lamp post.

Wheein did not know why everything became blurry and the heat of her rosy cheeks were feeling streaks of cold-

Oh. She’s crying.

Oh. She’s crying.

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