“You’ve got your program?” Her mom asks, fussing with Yong’s blazer. She pulls at the front, watching it settle, her lips pursed critically. “Where’s your program? I’m putting it in the scrapbook. It better not be crumpled!”

“Er,” Yong says, thinking of the shredded piece of paper that had been, first, a commencement program, and then a paper flower, and then ripped into neat little squares after the ceremony. “I’ll get a new one from the office?”

“Kim Yongsun,” Her mom cries, looking upset.

“Sorry, Mom,” she says, grinning awkwardly. Around them are parents snapping pictures and fresh graduates hugging each other, calls of Congratulations! and See you next week!s resounding in the air. The late afternoon light makes everything dreamy and picturesque, the perfect stage for a good bye to four years of academic suffering, and a breather before the four more years ahead.

Her mom’s face crumples a little before she takes a breath and schools her expression. “No matter,” she says primly, patting Yong’s shoulder. “You’ll look very pretty in your pictures--”

“Mom,” Yong says, embarrassed.

“-- like your sister,” her mom insists. “Soon you’ll be off to University, and then you can also take an exchange program in the West, improve that English of yours.” She has that faraway look in her eyes again, the one she always gets when she talks about the idea of Yong’s future she’s had formed ever since she gave birth to her second daughter. 

Yong just smiles. “Yeah,” she says quietly. Her mom claps her on the shoulder again, suddenly, which makes her yelp.

“Where are your friends?” she says, looking around. “We’ll need to get a picture--”

“It’s fine, Mom,” Yong says quickly, flushing, but she’s already got her hands up in the air.

“Byulyi-ah!” she calls out, waving the other girl over. “Come here and have your picture taken with Yongsun!”

Yong bites back a sigh and glances over her shoulder just in time to see three girls peel away from a larger group, with her best friend Moon Byulyi at the head of the pack. Well-- kind of best friend. They’ve been neighbors for almost their entire lives, and have a sort of longstanding, easy camaraderie. In the last couple of years Byul has veered off into a crowd that enables more of the kind of harmless, casual delinquency that the other girl enjoys so much, but otherwise nothing has really changed.

At least, outwardly.

“Auntie,” Byul drawls, smiling easily. She leans down to hug her mom, and she pats Byul proprietarily on the bank in return.

“Congratulations, Byulyi,” she says, and adds, “And to you two, too; you’ve all done very well.”

“Aww, thanks Auntie,” Hyejin says, her cap set at a jaunty angle over her long black curls. “Took some of us a while, but we made it.”

“Haha. Funny,” says Wheein, beside her. She turns to Yong, “Nice speech, by the way. I liked the start.”

“Thanks,” Yong says, meaning it.

“Where’s your other friend?” Her mom demands. “That treasurer boy--”

“Changsub’s got… plans,” Byul says smoothly, winking at Yong. Yong laughs, then disguises it as a cough when Byul throws an arm over her shoulder. The weight of it is solid and warm against her. Byul says, “How about that picture, Auntie?”

“Oh, right!” Her mom says, and then fumbles with her camera. Yong feels Byul crowd in closer, and Wheein and Hyejin come in on her other side.

“Smile for the camera, Yong,” Byul says, low and near Yong’s ear. “Valedictorian can’t look bad on her big day.”

“You’re so annoying,” Yong mutters back. She’s hyperaware of Byul’s chest pressed against her back, Byul’s arm around her shoulders. She wants to shiver, but keeps still. Everything is totally fine. Just regular, kind of best friend stuff. Nothing to stress over or worry about.

“Smile!” Her mom is saying, holding the camera up. Yong does.

Click!

000

Yong can’t sleep. She’s lying awake in her bed, a single that she’s had her entire life. Her feet end up right at the edge; her parents have been meaning to buy her a new one ever since her growth spurts started kicking in at the start of high school, but there was never any time. Now, in a month and a half, it won’t even really matter anymore.

She watches shadows from her window throw patterns over the pale blue walls of her room, the posters of her favorite idols, the countless pictures and polaroids of her and her friends. The clock on her desk ticks mutely in the night. She sighs through her nose and shifts onto her side to face her closet door. Her school bag is on the floor, against the side of it. The matching keychain she shares with Byul, Wheein, and Hyejin is almost just visible.

“Ugh,” Yong says, and throws her blanket off. She pushes her window open, her arms tensing at the spot where it gets stuck on the way up. This was easier when she was smaller and younger, but besides a little scrape from the windowsill, she manages to swing her leg out and shermy the rest of her onto the roof.

The shingles are cool against her bare feet. She can see across the rest of the neighborhood from here, the crests of roofs rising up from suburbia. The hour is late enough that only the streetlamps are on, and in the distance, rising from the horizon, the glow of light from the city. Yong breathes in deep, then exhales. She lies down, putting her arms behind her head, and watches the clouds drift slowly.

She doesn’t even notice that she’s fallen asleep until a clatter of gravel against the roof wakes her up with a start. There’s a moment where she’s caught in between rubbing the last bits of sleep from her eyes, shivering from the cool air, and gearing up to punch a burglar. She ends up in a half crouch, only to find that the rocks are from Byul, tossed from her own roof some feet away.

“Hey,” Yong says, bewildered; she’s a little fuzzy still, not really awake.

“Hey,” Byul says in reply, then backs a few steps away from the edge. Yong’s about to ask what the hell she thinks she’s doing when Byul takes a running leap to clear the distance between their two houses.

Yong scrambles to get to her, a yell half-caught in , her arms out-- to do what, she’s not entirely sure-- but Byul makes her landing, albeit ungracefully. There’s a collection of thumps as the other girl’s body connects with Yong’s roof (and that’s going to come up at breakfast with her parents for sure) but when Yong skids to a stop beside her, Byul’s laughing.

“tt,” Byul says, cradling her elbow. “I think I scraped all my skin off.”

“What the ,” Yong starts, then lowers her voice and hisses, “What the were you trying to do? You could have died, Byul!”

“Relax,” Byul says, turning her arm so she can look at her elbow. The skin there is red, but not bleeding. “It’s only, like, eight feet. The planning in this area .”

“I can’t believe this,” Yong says, and stalks off to the other side of the roof. Her heart is thumping against her ribs, and the adrenaline rush is turning her fear into an irrational rage. When she hears Byul get to her feet, she snaps, without looking at her, “Can you give me a minute?” She sits down, hard, and crosses her arms, breathing deep and fast. She adds, “I’m serious, I could-- ing-- punch you.”

Byul doesn’t say anything, or move. Yong lets the moments pass, trying to collect herself, trying to will the anger down into something more manageable. She plays the image of Byul, suspended in the air, over and over until the shock dissipates. Yong’s breathing slows eventually, and Byul notices, because that’s when she comes over to sit down beside her.

They’re quiet beside each other for a little while, and then Byul says, “So… that was kind of stupid, yeah.”

The last of her anger leaves her, and Yong deflates like a balloon. “You’re such an idiot,” Yong says, looking out at the horizon. Byul nudges her with a shoulder, almost shyly.

“Come on, don't be mad,” Byul says; when Yong turns to look at her, her lips quirk up, half contrite and half challenging. Yong rolls her eyes, which makes Byul laugh. “I wanted to surprise you. You looked like you were having fun up here.”

“That’s so ing creepy,” Yong tells her. Their voices, though low, sound clear in the quiet night. “Were you watching me? Stalker.”

“I can’t help it,” Byul grins. “You’re my dream girl. The sunrise to my moonlight. I’ve got your name written out in all my notebooks inside a heart.”

Yong rolls her eyes again, and punches her lightly in the shoulder. “You're gross. I should get a restraining order. Talk to the Chief at the precinct, make sure he knows I’ve got a complaint. Breaking and entering, property damage, the whole nine yards.”

“He’ll never catch me,” comes the reply, “I’m light on my feet, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Your DNA is all over my roof,” Yong reminds her. Byul’s grin only widens. After that, they’re companionably silent for a few more minutes; Yong looks out again at the lights in the distance, and Byul checks her arms and feet for more scrapes. A light breeze blows, and Yong shivers a little in the thin t-shirt she wears to sleep.

“So,” Byul says, into the quiet, “any reason you were taking a nap up here instead of in your nice, comfortable bed?”

“Eh,” Yong says, shrugging. Byul waits. Eventually, Yong continues, “I dunno. I’ve been having some trouble sleeping lately.”

“Ahh,” Byul nods, sagely, “The ol’ existential crisis after high school graduation. Classic.”

Yong snorts. “Shut up,” she says, although Byul is right. SHe sighs through her nose, brings her knees up and leans her chin on them. She fiddles with the hems of her pajama pants absently. “I just-- God, it all went by so fast. We’ll be gone in six weeks, and it’ll be like everything never happened, you know? Like, what was the whole point?”

Byul blinks. “Damn, Yong,” she says. “You should chill out a little, maybe. I’m pretty sure they’re gonna keep your nice speech on record, maybe frame your picture, save a couple of your trophies--”

“Byulie,” Yong says. “You know what I mean.”

“I know, I know,” she says. Yong notices suddenly that they’re close; their shoulders and arms are touching, and she isn’t sure how it started. “But seriously--” Byul makes a little heh, “-- lighten up. You’re nervous now, but I bet you’ll be one of those people who like, blooms in college--”

“What,” Yong says.

“-- Like a beautiful, genius flower,” Byul continues gleefully, “With beautiful, genius petals. Filling the air with your beautiful, genius fragrance.”

Yong is silent for a bit. Then, “I hope you don't take this grease with you to your University, they'll chase you out after a week.”

“Then they'll be robbed,” Byul declares. Her expression sobers, and she says, “Really, though. Don’t let it get you down. Change happens all the time. Just think of it as like," she pauses, thinking, "Like you’re on the train of life, just waiting to get off at the next stop.” Byul pauses. “Hmm. Unfortunate choice of words.”

“Truly inspirational,” Yong says, drily.

“I try,” Byul says, bowing to an imaginary audience.

Yong sighs. “Yeah, yeah. I know that. It’s just weird to have to go through it, you know? And all this stuff is… Wheeinie is going back to Jeonju for University, Hyejinnie is moving to France, you’re--” Yong stops, suddenly unsure. It seems, all at once, like the distance between them spans more than eight feet and two roofs.

But Byul says, gently, “Hey. I get you. I mean, I really get you.”

“Uggghhhh,” Yong groans, running her hands through his hair. “I know I’m being stupid. And I’ll probably get over this. It’s just-- for now, I kind of wish. I kind of wish,” She turns to Byul, gesturing out at everything and nothing at once, “like I could mark every moment, you know, like remember everything. It’s dumb, but that’s what I want.”

Byul is silent, meeting Yong’s eyes thoughtfully. Yong flushes and is about to glance away, change the subject, when Byul says, “Can I,” and then leans in to kiss her.

Yong freezes in shock. Her mind goes blank; all she can do is feel. The scrape of the shingles under her palms and bare feet, the cool night air, the flush of her skin, too hot, where it meets Byul’s. Byul’s lips are soft and warm, and when she brings up a hand to cup the back of Yong’s head, Yong shudders with desire. She gasps, and Byul pulls away for a second to press their foreheads together, before kissing her again. Her other hand fits against Yong’s neck, her fingers framing Yong’s jaw. It feels so good it makes Yong’s teeth hurt.

“Uh,” Yong says, when they finally part. Her breath is shaky. She feels dizzy.

“Sorry,” Byul breathes against her lips. Yong is gratified to realize that Byul is breathing as hard as she is, even as Byul moves her head back to look into Yong’s eyes. Byul says, almost shyly, “Was that okay?”

“Oh, god,” Yong says, “Yeah. I mean, yes, I liked it.” She breathes out, hard. “.”

“Yeah?” Byul grins. She looks younger without the sardonic tilt to her eyebrows. Yong feels a rush of affection come over her, almost overwhelming. Byul says, more quietly, “I’ve been meaning to do that for a while, but I wasn’t sure… I didn’t want to ruin things. Did I?”

“Same,” Yong says, then adds, quickly, “I mean, I really-- I’ve wanted to k… Tell you, too. You didn’t ruin anything.”

Byul barks out a laugh. “You were gonna say ‘kiss’, don’t lie,” she says, and then does just that, again. Yong feels like doing the opposite of complaining, whatever that is.

This time, when they end the kiss, Yong takes Byul’s hand in hers, trying out the feel. The weight of it is solid and comforting.

“Uh,” Yong says, ducking her head. The night seems dreamlike, but startlingly real at the same time. She feels like a completely different person from five minutes, an hour, two hours ago. The Yong who lay awake in bed with dread in the pit of her stomach seems like a distant memory. She can’t stop smiling. “So.” She glances up at Byul, “How long is ‘a while’?”

Byul says, “Listen, Jeju’s just a flight away. I could visit you? Or you could–”

“Don’t change the subject,” Yong says, happily. Byul hooks her arm over Yong’s knees, her fingers warm even through the fabric of Yong’s pajama pants.

“Tell me, first,” Byul insists. “Can I?”

Yong pretends to consider it. This time, it’s Byul who rolls her eyes, Byul who flicks at her knees. Yong nudges at her, and says, “Okay, okay.”

“Score,” Byul says, nosing at her shoulder. “Aren’t you glad I didn’t fall to my death, earlier?”

“Oh my god, will you shut up,” Yong says, but she’s laughing. Around and above them, the sky lightens.

000

Later, at a more reasonable time in the morning, both her parents and her sister are staring at her knowingly at breakfast. She pretends not to notice, instead downing her toast and fruit in silence. When her phone lights up with a message, her head moves up so fast it almost gives her whiplash. 

The familiar name pops up and Yong doesn't even have to ask. She just looks up at her parents.

Her mom's lips are pursed but she nods, her dad just grins and gives her a little wink. Beside her, her sister Yonghee just snickers into her oatmeal. 

The run upstairs to her room to get dressed passes by in a blur, which is why she only realises she's slipped on her high school varsity cheer skirt and socks after the fact. When she comes to term with the fact that it doesn't matter, she also slips on her old school polo and ties it up so it shows just a bit of her midriff. After all, she's only got a few more weeks to enjoy wearing these clothes.

When she makes it outside, Byul is waiting outside with her family's car parked and ready. Byul had been unbearable during the week before graduation when she had bragged to everyone that her parents let her get her driver's license early. Meanwhile, all Yong had was her learner's permit. 

To Yong's pleasant surprise, the other girl is wearing her own varsity jacket. Byul must come to the same realization because her grin widens. 

She bounds over and suddenly finds herself hesitating. In the light of day, the things they talked about the night before seem so far away. Byul eases her worries. She crosses the space between them, hands going to Yong's hips to pull her in for a slow kiss.

"Good morning, girlfriend." Byul whispers against her lips. 

Yong scoffs, pushing Byul away. She's smiling though, and the anxieties from yesterday are far from her mind. She moves to go to the passenger seat but Byul dangles the keys in front of her.

"Wanna do the honors?"

Yong hesitates, hand paused in mid-air.

"I only have a learner's permit." She says.

Byul shrugs, "That's only gonna matter if we get caught."

She lets herself think it over for half a minute before smiling and grabbing the keys and opening the driver's side door.

By the time she's settled in, Byul is already comfy in the passenger's seat.

"So where to?" Yong asks. 

Byul smirks. "It's two hours to Naksan Beach."

Yong smiles back, already putting the car in gear. "Let's go!"

They drive off together, and Yong feels her future settle in place with the sky bright overhead and Byul beside her. 

End.