Reader Discretion is advised: Problematic themes ahead. Themes such as: characters liking the idea of not following professional advice; ditching medication without asking for the proper ways to do it; thinking it was a great idea afterwards; miscommunication with not so wise priorities but hey, at least they’re trying; and the unnamed and will probably never be named mental illness both of them might have. I take it as an integral part of the plot and characters- to make them real and human. Aka stupid and horrible at decision making. But keep an eye out, don’t follow their mindsets and their ways. They’re broken lol. They’ll figure it out. I think.

A/N: Let me get things straight, Idk how to write angst in a way that hurts, maybe cus don't read angst LMAO I am weak, okay? Feelings are my achilles heel and if I read a sad story yall best believe I'm gonna burn money I dont have for albums again. So if you want classic angst that will certainly hurt I am sorry she ain't in our menu. What we got here in this fine dining is good ‘ol trust issues and miscommunication. 

It's Wednesday again– they’ll meet again– Byulyi is frantic. She hasn’t slept. Technically she has, but that was 10 hours ago. She slept early, defeated at her futile attempts to remember anything that isn’t tainted with us.

Forlorn and lost she slept it off… at 6PM. She supposes she just needs to rest. Calm down into her dreams. Yet she had none. Just a dark– empty– lurking and murky unknown. What could it mean? She usually has dreams– someone, something, it can be something silly or something completely out of nowhere.

Like dreams of being married twice in high school for a project skit. Participating in solo dance competitions for her school. Playing Hamlet in her high school play– just memories of her past. Anything about her past was her dreams.

Her dreams were a foggy– hazy– reminiscent and calming time for her brain to remind her where she is now. Her past is who she is today. That’s how she made sense of the world. Patterns she relies on to know she’s normal, she’s okay.

But she dreamt of nothing. An empty dark abyss of nothingness. Instead of asking herself frankly what it could mean, she checks the time. First, she dreams of the worst possible thing to dream about– the incomprehensible unknown then waking up at 10PM?

Here she is now, sleepless– technically– at 8AM, getting ready for Wednesdays. ing insane. Within the hours of her waking up until now, she was– as they call it– compartmentalizing. Doing maintenance on herself– self care of doing chores.

Finally choosing herself for a second. Just to gulp and stare at the clock mocking her. The clock’s hands, moving in beats– ticking and tocking at Byulyi’s inaction. Ticking and tocking– almost laughing at her for not knowing anything anymore.

Almost as if each tick after each tock is a repeat of “I told you so.” or “here you go again.”

So, in complete spite of her mocking clock, she thinks about what she does know.

Byulyi recollects the past Wednesdays and Saturdays.

“Wheein?! It– it’s been too long I thought you might’ve–” Byulyi looked aghast– all over everything everywhere in a miniscule second at the sight- at the very presence of her– her– who is she really to Byulyi?

“H-how did you know my name? Do you know me?!” Wheein should really have sounded more concerned at a stranger she just randomly confessed to– albeit in a completely almost scary manner of: ‘I felt like I’ve loved you before.’ Yet she doesn’t seem fazed at a stranger she has no recollection of meeting– just fleeting feelings of… must haves– she’s so hopeful at the person calling her by her name.

“Yes! Don’t you remember me? Byulyi? Byulienie? Byul?” Desperate and a little stupid at not really having processed what’s going on, Byulyi threw all the variations of her name. “I-I– we used to be–” What did they used to be? What really was the end of that sentence, Byul-ah?

“We were roommates!”

“Roommates?!” Wheein almost screamed– ecstatic at having found someone who was the same. Messy and a little stupid at the unknowns of her past. All she remembers– “I had a roommate?”

“Y-yeah! I, I don’t know why you left– I just came home with– a note, you told me you had to go back somewhere. Are you okay? Wheeinie–” That name, that voice– it was too real– too familiar– too many incomprehensible emotions that Wheein moved back a bit, apprehensive.

“I- I’m sorry, my stop is the next one– I don’t know if you still have your old number, here’s my card– I have to go, we can hang out again– just like before, okay? You don’t have to be sad and alone, smile– with me.” Byulyi’s logic has finally caught up, filtering her words to keep Wheein in arms length, the safety of… not flying too close to the–

. I miss you so much.

You don’t even know. Because I never said it.

ing hell. I never learned why you left me.

I don’t even know. Is it because of who I am?

Wheein wakes up to another empty dream. It has been like this ever since Saturday– the first time Byulyi cancelled their bi-weekly meetings. It hurt. For it to be so… vague. Just a text of:

I can’t make it today. Sorry.

She’s annoyed at it. She had so many questions ready. She had been waiting for them to meet again– almost a little obsessed on finding out more. Her hype had died down a bit.

Died down due to her inability to dream. She doesn’t have dreams anymore. Just pitch black. Nothing. Empty.

All she holds onto is the questions she’s listed down on a sticky note. All she holds onto is the slightly faded memory of December 22. On Byulyi's birthday. Of Titanic– Jaws– Christmas– all the things she never spared a caring glance on– now oh so interesting to her.

She supposes it’s already 10AM, might as well get ready for today. What’s today? When– It’s Wednesday. It’s Wednesday, one of the two days they meet.

In a disorderly– almost teenager-like fashion of checking their last chat with their crush– she crawls out of bed– tumbles– where the hell is her phone?!

And in some godsent guidance, a vibration and ding under her pillow answers for her. A message from Byulyi: I’ll meet you in the cafe?

But there’s also another, one sent at 4AM: Check out the skyline of the sunrise! *a picture*

Did she even sleep? Should Wheein ask? Well, asking proved to be very rewarding, so she will.

She swipes on the notification, unlocking her phone and typing a reply.

Byulyi was dragged out of her several hazy reveries– the overstimulating conceptual abstract world of overthinking her past. Her phone vibrated after fixing her collar for the nth time in the mirror. She looks at her phone, a notification– from Wheein. The girl she used to–

Good Morning~ What were you doing at 4AM? Did you not sleep well?

The girl that has her wrapped– in a bind. The girl that plays her heart like a marionette– in strings– and it stings each time.

She froze at what to reply. She can’t say what she’s thinking. She can’t say I don’t know anything anymore. She can’t answer her honestly. Their trust literally relies on her remembering things Wheein doesn’t. If she gives Wheein any hints that she doesn’t know , this will all be over–

All over… again.

No– not again, this time– this time she’ll– what will she do? She doesn’t know anything anymore. She bites her lip– suddenly the ticking and tocking of the stupid clock mocks her again. Ringing noise of “told you so” and “you never learn.”

She recalls what she was doing at 4AM. Making black coffee, cleaning the apartment- even Wheein’s old room, the one she refuses to enter. She took a long bath- did a lot of things for herself and her dead plants that she finally threw away.

Ah, I slept too early and woke up early. I just did some house stuff. I cleaned your old room too!

Was that an overshare? Was that a mistake? Byulyi could only grit her teeth in anticipation.

It couldn’t be an overshare– she didn’t say anything about frantically investigating her old roommates room for some clues about her past that she apparently barely knew. Holding onto the only hopes– only reasons she has left to be with her again– looking for anything– something–

Then like a shutter– a shot of her camera– instantaneous reply.

You never invited me over to your place. We should go there today! I want to see what my old room was like… Did you move things?

This is a painful conversation of Byulyi overthinking every possible thing– it hurts her head in an overwhelming force– a migraine-like grip on her brain. She types whatever just to get it over with.

Sure. I’ll show you around. I’ll be in the cafe in a few.

There it is again, the vague monotone and… almost scary text of Byulyi. It chills Wheein’s spine in what she said that might’ve upset her. Or anything she must have done in the past that upset Byulyi.

Well, asking has been rewarding her with overwhelming joy- addictingly making her feel like she’s being herself. Truly herself again. Who that might have been and who must have her past- self was to Byulyi.

After moments of boring commuting, the two have finally ordered their unusual usuals in the cafe, they walk side-by-side, a bit awkward. Should they hold hands? What are they? Didn’t they kiss? What–

“Byulyi-unnie, I have a question– it’s a bit weird so don’t judge.”

“Shoot away.” Less words the better, Byulyi supposes.

“Have you ever– when we were roommates, did I do weird things?”

“You’re always weird.” Byulyi answers– a bit robotically– a bit forced.

“Wow, thanks.” Wheein doesn’t know how to feel about this weirdness but she continues to poke- a bit addicted to learning more and blind to Byulyi’s inner turmoil. “I meant weird stuff like sticky notes of reminders everywhere. Or sleeping with food near me. Or–”

“Wait–” Byulyi pauses, almost spilling her black coffee in her sudden halt. “You remember something?” Byulyi’s hopeful eyes meet Wheein’s. She looks so happy.

“Yeah! I- well, kind of. I just remembered I have sticky notes in the refrigerator with a lot of details…” Wheein leaves out the concerning details of what those details actually were. “I also realized maybe it’s a bit weird for people to be sleeping with chocolate next to them…”

Byulyi could only swoon– she’s so happy for Wheein. She’s so happy that she’s happy. She’s almost tearing up at the energy the other is exuding. It is absolutely contagious– addicting– she loves– revels at her unbridled enthusiasm.

“Oh, yeah you used to always walk to the kitchen late at night. I sleep lightly so I hea