Yongsun couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she watched Byulyie walk slightly ahead, looking around for the best spot. Frankly, she was amused with how wrapped up the younger woman was. It had been twenty years since they left the entertainment industry, twenty years since they went back to anonymity; yet, the former rapper still wore her shorter hair in a little ponytail with a thick beanie and a mask over her face, though the air was on the lowest pollution percentage that day. It tugged at Yongsun’s heart a bit, torn between how cute her best friend was, lost in her long padded jacket and its wide hood, and pained that this feeling of being watched and judged still seemed to stick to the other woman after all these years. No one would recognize them nowadays; they had become two seventy-year-old women among so many others, yet Byulyie always pulled Yongsun’s hat low and hood tight any time they stepped outside of her car.

Her thoughts faded into the back of her mind as Byulyie stopped and turned towards her. 

“Over there, unnie.” She said as she pointed to a part of the park where few people were, which still offered a beautiful view over the river. So Yong dutifully followed, and they started setting up their little spot with folding chairs and a table. “I still don’t get why you’re dragging us into the cold for a picnic when there’s snow everywhere,” Byulyie grumbled as she moved around the table to pull food out of their bags.

“Careful!” Yongsun shouted as Byulyie slipped on an icy patch of snow, shooting up from her chair to stop the other woman from falling on her . She received a glare as thanks as Byul crossed her arms and stared her down. 

“Seriously, unnie. Wouldn’t we be better inside in a warm café somewhere??” 

“Oh, come on, stop being a grouch,” Yongsun said, rolling her eyes at how petulant her best friend was. “This is fun! Look how beautiful it all looks with the snow!”

Byulyie looked around. “You mean all the dark, mushy snow on the paths? 

Yongsun glared at her and slapped her shoulder. “Shut up and sit down.” She said with no real bite as she unpacked their lunch. Byulyie gathered the ends of her coat before sitting down on the camping chair with a groan. She leaned back and sighed with relief, watching her former leader put their food on different plates. Finally, the older woman sat down with a groan of her own and handed Byulyie her plate before starting to eat as well, quite expressive in her enjoyment of their meal as opposed to Byul’s usual silent appreciation. 

They didn’t talk much as they ate, didn’t even look at each other as they took in the view in silence. Ever since their retirement, they had gone on so many little trips and soon simply on walks along the Han river banks as longer trips made them more tired. Yongsun always cooked, and Byulyie always drove. Funny enough, their roles had never changed since the rapper got her license a lifetime ago. It was familiar, and they found comfort in these moves they had done a million times. 

Feeling full and warm, Yongsun removed her hat, pushed a hand through her shoulder-length hair, and took a deep breath of the crisp air. She glanced at Byulyie, her soft smile disappearing as she rolled her eyes. “Stop being ridiculous, take off this beanie, and don’t you dare put your mask back on.”

“Yes, mom.” Byulyie teased as she obliged and pulled back her hood before taking her beanie off and sticking it in her pocket. Yongsun offered her a wide, giddy smile. 

“You always worry, Byul-ah, but there’s no reason to.” The younger woman simply shrugged in response. Yongsun glanced at her again and leaned over the armrest to try to take the hairband off, but the other woman was sitting slightly too far, and her chair tipped over, making her yelp. 

“Ah, unnie~!” Byulyie whined as she stabilized Yong’s chair with a frown. “This is why I have to worry! You’re always putting yourself in danger!”

“Oh, come on, don’t be ridiculous. I was not in danger,” Yongsun said with yet another eye roll before getting up and walking behind Byul. The former rapper followed her with her eyes. 

“It absolutely is danger, unnie! We’re not twenty anymore; if you fall badly, you could break something! Then what do we do??”

“You’re always thinking of the worst scenario ever. You stopped the chair, I’m fine, so relax.”

“I won’t always be there, unnie,” Byulyie mumbled. Yongsun didn’t reply, hit with the reality that they, indeed, weren’t getting younger at all. She stayed silent as she gently pulled the hairband off and tenderly fluffed Byul’s hair, massaging her scalp in the process. The younger woman relaxed completely on her chair with a little shiver, still as sensitive as when she was younger. A thousand secret nights with her hands buried in silky hair of so many colors flashed in Yongsun’s mind before fading as quickly as they came, taking some of the day’s levity with them. Her smile dimmed, and she gently ran a fingertip along the shell of Byul’s ear. Byulyie’s breath hitched before being released in a trembling sigh. Yongsun patted her shoulders before returning to her chair, eyes fixed on the slow-moving waters.

Sensing turmoil inside Yongsun, Byulyie moved her chair as close to the other woman’s as possible and sat back down, taking her hand without a word. They stayed like that for a long while, gazing out ahead while Byulyie softly played with Yong’s fingers like she had her whole life. Yong’s gaze eventually fell upon their interlocked fingers. There rarely ever was a day in her life since she met Byulyie when she hadn’t held hands with her, bar from a few days here and there when they weren’t in the same city… except for those seven years that the two women had deeply regretted. Yongsun’s gaze followed Byul’s arm to settle on the pensive face of its owner. Yongsun swallowed the lump in .

They had lived the most intense love they had ever experienced in their respective lives for years. Sometimes, Yongsun wondered if the secrecy of it had helped keep its flame as consuming as it had been. Their younger years had been filled with so much devotion, so much passion, and dreams. She remembered the sneaky kisses in changing rooms backstage, the conniving smiles, the mischievous gazes. Every single touch from the hand now held in hers was committed to her memory, which was otherwise so poor, to Byul’s dismay. Holding hands with the younger woman had always felt like the scent of home as you pass the threshold after a trip, like the warm duvet you slip into after a hard day of work, like the tight hug of family or the happy barks of the numerous dogs they had raised through the years. She still wondered how she survived those years without it. 

It’s not that their love for each other ever died. Yongsun thought that it probably would never fade, not even a little. No, the problem had been the pressure around them. Byul had been the most affected by what her family had demanded of her, whereas Yongsun’s plight had come from the very wrong idea that she was missing some vital part of her life if she didn’t have kids, especially after experiencing so much unconditional love for her sister’s kids. 

That’s why the day that Byul came to her saying she would go on the blind date set up by her mother, Yongsun didn’t fight for her. That’s how their relationship died in much of an anti-climatic way compared to the way it had thrived for all these years. Hyejinie and Wheeinie had never understood why they broke up, but out of respect and care for them, they had never pushed for an explication, never tried telling them that they were making a mistake. In less than a year, they were both married to men they never truly loved. They didn’t stay in contact much during those seven years; texted once a week at most, met up even less. Yongsun clenched her jaw at the thought, her eyes returning to the river. Byulyie tightened her grip on her hand as if reading her thoughts somehow. 

It had taken one of them to divorce for the other to follow suit a week later. It took another week for Byul to move in. Yongsun sometimes thinks it might have been the happiest moment of her life then, the certainty to have Byulyie fully back in her life the way it always should have been. That was twenty years ago, and they had quit the industry because they were tired of hiding and finding explanations for simply wanting to exist near each other. Yongsun never once regretted that decision, but she will never shake off the dull ache of losing the romantic side of their love. They still loved each other as deeply as they had in their youth, but since finding their way back to each other, they had never crossed the boundary of friendship again. They had never talked about it either, but her lips hadn’t felt Byul’s for twenty-seven years, and she wondered if she would have to die without ever feeling them again. Byulyie had always been the braver one when it came to physical affection, and she didn’t have the guts to ask for something the younger woman evidently had never felt comfortable providing again. 

It started snowing, and the floating flakes tore Yongsun away from her thoughts. A wide smile appeared on her face, her dimples showing between a couple wrinkles, and she looked at Byul, who was already gazing at her with a peaceful smile of her own. 

“We should put this away,” Yongsun said as she started clearing the table, wrapping everything up in their bags. Byulyie stopped her with a gentle hand on her wrist and turned her towards her. Yongsun looked up at her, her question clear enough in her eyes she didn’t need to voice it out for Byul to understand. Byul smiled reassuringly and pulled the beanie from her pocket to gently put it on Yong’s head, rearranging it with tenderness so her ears were covered. 

Yongsun had lost a couple of inches in height while Byul hadn’t, and Byul kept teasing her at seventy the way she had at twenty-five, much to Yong’s dismay. But this moment was one of the rare ones when Yongsun didn’t mind as she gazed up at the former rapper dotting on her. Her eyes got teary as snowflakes landed softly on Byul’s grey hair, and a couple tears ran down her cheeks at the little wrinkles that deepened at the corner of her eyes as she smiled down at her. Yongsun had seldom found Byulyie as beautiful as she did then. 

“I love you,” she whispered, awe b in her voice. The smile remained on Byul’s lips, though they trembled slightly at her words.

“I love you too, unnie.” She whispered back before kissing her forehead. Byulyie helped her put everything away. “We should go home before you get sick,” the taller woman said as she took Yongsun’s hand and interlocked their fingers. Yongsun simply nodded and followed as they made their way back to the car with their bags.

“I have NO idea why I decided to do this,” Yongsun said, aggravated, as she stared at her sheet of paper. 

“What do you mean?? It’s really good!” Byulyie said, gently massaging Yongsun’s shoulders. She was on the couch with Yongsun sitting between her legs on the floor, papers strewn about on the low table before her as she stared dejectedly at her piano keyboard.

“It’s not ‘really good,’ Byul-ah… It’s been years since I last tried to make a song, and it shows.” She grumbled, crumpling yet another piece of paper she sent flying against the wall before petulantly crossing her arms with a pout.

Byul bent down to kiss the crown of her head. “Unnie, don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s just a gift for Wheeinie. She’ll be happy no matter what; it won’t be released publicly.”

“I know, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want it to be perfect.” 

Byulyie sighed. “I know, but why don’t you trust me when I say it’s really good?”

“I don’t know…” Yongsun mumbled. She looked up at Byulyie, who smiled lovingly, and picked up another piece of paper. 

A couple hours later, Byulyie stared in awe as Yongsun played the piano while singing softly to herself. The lyrics were incredibly moving, applying to all four of them, really, and she had to bite her lip not to cry. Yet Yongsun’s tone was so soothing that she felt warmth filling her chest more than anything. They had never truly regretted their decision to retire back then, and their love for music never stopped. Their days were filled with the two of them singing around the house, may it be songs from their childhood or from their career. But sometimes, Byul wondered if Yongsun missed the noise of a crowd in the silence of the night. If she, too, missed the thrill of standing on stage, missed the heat from the projectors and the sweat dripping down their backs as they danced with their whole being. They were too old now, anyway, and she figured the older woman wouldn’t dwell on things she could not change. And yet, seeing her create again woke in Byul memories of countless nights spent creating songs together when they were younger.  First, it was a way for them to grow closer, to try and make the other understand the depth of their feelings. Then, it simply morphed into giving birth to something together, feeling like they became one through the notes. Her mind took her back to recording rooms where she had watched, amazed, countless recordings from her leader, to cramped practice rooms with vocal lessons, to listening to rap songs and analyzing them together before their debut.

Byulyie had always admired Yongsun greatly, and though it had never truly diminished, witnessing her creative process again after so many years reminded her just how much. She stayed quiet as Yongsun tweaked what she didn’t like, simply playing with her hair, knowing the older woman always felt more at ease creating in her presence than completely alone. 

It was when Yongsun leaned back with a satisfied sigh that Byulyie broke the silence. “Do you ever miss it, unnie?”

Yongsun glanced at her, wary at the question, before busing herself with cleaning up the table. “What?”

“This. Making music.” Yongsun’s shoulders relaxed somewhat. 

“I guess I do, sometimes, but it’s not like I can’t pick it up again like I did today.”

“Why don’t you?”

Yongsun shrugged. “I don’t know…” Byulyie could detect, in her voice, that there was something deeper there and frowned. Compared to before her marriage, Yongsun had relaxed a lot after her divorce: she could sit for hours simply watching TV and nothing else and did her chores more reluctantly than before. Where it felt like she rushed through life before, it now felt like she stalling instead.

Byulyie poked her shoulder as if to say she knew that wasn’t all there was to it. Yongsun sighed, “I just…” Yongsun’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I feel like I’ve wasted so many years away from you.” She sniffled slightly. “I don’t want to waste another moment that isn’t enjoying life with you.” Silence punctuated her words. Byulyie pulled her up on her lap, though her joints were groaning at her action. Yongsun wrapped her arms around her neck and buried her face there. They held each other in silence for hours until the sun set and their stomach growled.

Byulyie still felt, after so many decades, incredibly guilty for the end of their relationship. She had yielded to pressure first and had ruined their happiness. She didn’t blame Yongsun for not dissuading her because, back then, she wouldn’t have been able to. Now that her own parents were dead, all she was left with was regret. She never talked about it with Yongsun, somewhat afraid that Yongsun held against her just as much resentment as she did for herself. So she never spoke about it, that guilt, nor did they ever talk about the nature of their relationship before their breakup. 

Sometimes, she wondered how her Yong, who would never shy away from confrontation, who always needed the air clear between them, didn’t cave and talk about these moments of their lives. But, maybe, like she had just told her, she would rather enjoy the present than dwell on the past.

The next time Byul spoke was when they were cuddling in bed, waiting to fall asleep. “Enjoying life together means doing things that make us happy, unnie. If you want to create music sometimes, we could do it together.” She whispered, the only answer being a coy nod of Yong’s head before they both drifted to sleep. 

A couple of weeks later, Byulyie took advantage of Yongsun visiting her niece to turn their spare room, a simple office with their computers, into a small recording studio. Once done, she lay, spent, on the couch until Yongsun’s head poked through the door a couple of hours later. “Byul-ah??” Worry colored her voice as she hurriedly took off her shoes. “Are you okay?” She asked, quickly getting to the other woman. Byulyie sat up with a groan at the twinge of pain in her back but then looked up at Yongsun with a goofy grin. 

“Unnie, close your eyes, I have a surprise for you.” 

“Oh?” Yongsun’s bright smile couldn’t hide her enthusiasm as she did as she was told. 

Byulyie got up with yet another groan and gently led her to their office. “Open.” She whispered in Yongsun’s ear, her eyes too trained on Yongsun’s face for her reaction to notice the slight shiver running down the older woman’s spine. 

Yongsun opened her eyes and stared, in shock, at their new office. She got closer, her fingers brushing the new mics and the padded section for soundproofing. She closed , which had remained open in surprise, and looked over at Byul, who watched her expectantly. 

“Byul-ah… I don’t know what to say…” 

“Do you like it?” Byulyie said as she stepped closer to wrap her arms around the smaller woman.

“I love it!” Yongsun said, hugging her tightly, moved beyond words. Some things had changed, and others never would, Yongsun thought. Byulyie smiled proudly, her chin resting on Yong’s head as she hugged her back just as tightly. She would never feel like she could prove the depth of her gratitude for the other woman, and sometimes she lamented that she couldn’t make Yongsun feel exactly what she felt for the woman who had protected her, led her, loved her through virtually all the decades of her life. She would never cease to hope that the older woman could see the traces of it in these gifts she made. 

Byulyie took her phone out as Yongsun sat at the MIDI keyboard plugged into her computer and took as many pictures as she could of her best friend testing the new equipment. She never told Yong that she found her more beautiful than she ever was in their youth. She knew that the older woman wouldn’t believe her, wouldn’t conceive of a reality where Byul was more attracted to her now, in their old age, covered in wrinkles and with grey hair, slowed by aches in their joints than she was back then. Yet she was. Yongsun was, at that moment, the most beautiful she had ever been. Every word Yongsun said had an echo to so many days they had lived through, every gesture morphed into a thousand memories. There was a depth to her trust in the other woman she didn’t have with anyone else, and the certainty that she was trusted all the same was just as deep. Yongsun was the most beautiful she had ever been because she was their life made flesh, and any time she held her in her arms, she felt something indescribable. 

As she lowered her phone, choosing to take in Yongsun’s beauty with her eyes that didn’t see as well as they used to, she hoped (as she did whenever the thought entered her mind, which was more and more often as years went by) that she would die before Yong so that she would never have to live another day without her. 

“I don’t want to waste another moment either, Yong. I want to enjoy every moment until our very last,” she later whispered that night as they cuddled to sleep.