Tiffany’s always wondered what it’s like to have a soul mate.

               She’s never actually dated anyone, and finds herself constantly deliberating what it would be like to hold someone’s hand. Sometimes, she sits on her backyard porch and intertwines her own hands together, trying to visualize another person’s hand in hers.

Tiffany’s perfectly content to be classified as a hopeless romantic. In fact, she dreams of having a corny, lovey-dovey date with someone one day.  She loves watching romance movies, and she’s still waiting for her Prince –or hell, maybe even Princess –Charming to come rescue her (since she doesn’t believe in uality).

Tiffany doesn’t think she’s ugly, and she’s had many suitors –it’s just her father that gets in the way of her dreams, and basically, everything.

               Her father is a pastor. Their whole family is a group of devout Christians, and Tiffany’s even sworn to abstinence until marriage, so she doesn’t really see the problem. Nevertheless, her father’s managed to scare off any suitor to date.

               Tiffany thinks it’s more of an attachment problem rather than a religious thing.

               Her mother passed away around the time she was in middle school, and as the youngest child closest to her mother, she was just as hurt by it as her father was. However, it was then that her father became all the more protective of her; he even migrated their family back to Korea in order to keep Tiffany’s mind free of all the possible corruption in America.

 Tiffany’s speculation is that he’s just afraid of losing her too, even though it’s not like she would ever desert her family.

               But sometimes, she feels like she should, especially with the way things are going with her father, and she’s growing more and more fed up with the way he treats her.

               As cheesy as it sounds (and Tiffany’s pretty cheesy), she just wants somebody to love, and she’s tired of her father trying to make up for her mother. She just wants him to accept it and move on, as she and the rest of her family have done –as her mother has probably even done.

               Last week, on her nineteenth birthday, Tiffany has the worst fight she’s ever had with her father. He tells her that she can’t live under his roof if she wants to date, so she decides to pack up and move out.

               She tells him she’s tired of his crap, and even though he tries to take it back, it’s a little too late, because Tiffany’s already contacting her older sister, Michelle, and asking her if she can work shifts at her coffee shop.

************

               It’s been four years since Tiffany’s moved out, and Michelle’s handed off the coffee shop to her entirely. Even though Tiffany’s content with her job and loves her new apartment, sometimes, during the slow hour before lunch, she wonders if it was worth it. Though there are so many more liberties, she hasn’t actually fallen in love with anyone, yet.

               Tiffany sighs, because it’s only a few weeks until Christmas, and that means she has to see her father again, as she has every year, with each visit steadily making things between them more severe. It’s also her mother’s death anniversary today, which doesn’t help her already poor mood in the slightest, but she manages to smile, nonetheless, because she knows that’s what her mother would want.

               It’s nearly eleven, which means the slow hour is approaching, not to mention the entire city is snowed out, so Tiffany’s tempted to make a break for it, but she knows she can’t just abandon her duties. She settles for assuring herself that she’ll go to church right after closing, and closes her eyes and murmurs a quick prayer.

               Tiffany’s almost instantly interrupted by a strident crash that reverberates around the petite shop, and she mentally prepares herself for any intruder. However, her preparation seems rather unnecessary, because when she whirls around, she’s met with a somewhat peculiar sight. All she can see are tiny limbs sticking out from under the menu board; she assumes it’s a little girl.

               “Oh my gosh! Are you okay!?” Tiffany cries, instinctively in English. She darts forward to the counter, leaning over it to get a better view.

The little girl is sitting in an awkward position with her limbs sprawled everywhere, her eyes screwed shut. Tiffany’s surprised, because the girl actually looks afraid, if anything.

               When she doesn’t get a response, Tiffany realizes that the girl probably didn’t understand her.

               “Are you okay?” Tiffany repeats, in Korean this time. She struggles a bit, her accent coming out somewhat bizarre as it’s been a while since she’s spoken Korean, but apparently it’s enough because the girl’s eyes fly open.

               Tiffany’s eyes widen involuntarily, partially because she’s relieved the little girl seems fine, but mostly because the little girl actually isn’t all that little. Though the girl is rather short and has a baby face, her eyes clearly say otherwise. They’re filled with an eerie bleakness and unfathomable grief, making the girl look tremendously aged; Tiffany can tell just by looking into her tinted hazel eyes that the girl is lonely, though to what extent, she doesn’t know.

               The girl blushes and scrambles to her feet before bowing a full ninety-degrees.

               “Sorry,” she mumbles in a hushed, melodious voice, and Tiffany laughs because she feels like she should be the one apologizing.

               “It’s okay! Don’t worry about it,” she adds, smiling wider when the girl still looks uncertain. “Can I help you?”

               Tiffany’s concerned, because the girl is abnormally underweight, and her clothes are dilapidated and sullied, but the girl nods with a jerk and stumbles forward. Tiffany wants to coo, because this girl has got to be the most adorable thing she’s ever seen, and she can’t even meet Tiffany’s eyes.

               With smooth, milky-white skin that’s several shades paler than Tiffany’s, a rounded nose, plump, pink lips, and feathery eyebrows peeking out from under dark chestnut hair contained in a tattered beanie, she’s the image of innocence.

The girl steals a glance at Tiffany, who smiles in what she hopes is a placating manner, before smiling back awkwardly. Her chin dimple is revealed as she does this, along with teeth that are extraordinarily straight and radiantly white; her smile is so aberrantly cute that Tiffany has to bite her lip to keep from squealing.

               “I… can’t understand the menu,” the girl finally admits sheepishly, and the coyness in her voice is endearing. Tiffany waves her hand dismissively, trying to contain her amusement in a grin; she expected as much.

               “No worries! Just tell me your favorite and I’ll make it for you,” she replies, and the girl blinks, almost as if she’s in shock; Tiffany’s inclined to believe that the girl hasn’t received her fair share of kindness.

               “Can I have a caramel macchiato?” the girl asks shyly, almost inaudibly, as she lowers her gaze again and traces the brim of the tip jar.

               Tiffany chuckles. “Sure. One caramel macchiato coming up. Is there anything else I can get you?” she inquires as she starts the espresso machine.

               Tiffany doesn’t get a response at first, so she glances over her shoulder as she continues to prepare the drink. The girl’s mouth is agape, and she’s staring at the display of pastries like she’s never seen food in her life. She her lips, eyes growing rounder and rounder as they move across the display, filled with such a childlike yearning that Tiffany has to hide her smile as she glances away. Everything about the girl is so heartwarming that Tiffany wonders what could possibly be the reason for the inestimable misery in her eyes.

               To Tiffany, just being in the same room as this oddly charming girl is enough to temporarily erase the melancholic memory of her mother’s death.

               Unconsciously, Tiffany steals another glance at the girl, and this time finds her staring longingly at a gingerbread-man. It’s a simple creation, nothing intricate or out of the ordinary, so Tiffany doesn’t see the initial attraction, but she’s surprised when the girl shakes her head.

               “No, that’s it,” she mutters in an unexpectedly low voice, and Tiffany raises an eyebrow.

               “Are you sure? You seemed to be staring longingly at the gingerbread-man.”

               The girl nods dejectedly and murmurs something under her breath. Tiffany’s not sure whether it’s directed towards her, but nevertheless, she calls, “What was that?”

               She’s graced with another inarticulate mutter, so she stares at the girl, blankly.

               “I don’t have enough money,” the girl finally mumbles in a tone that’s filled with so much humiliation and desolation that Tiffany regrets asking.

               Her heart breaks when she hears that, and she blinks, trying to recover from it, but just glancing at the girl’s dismal face breaks her heart all over again. Tiffany gulps, because is all thick, and she wants to apologize, but she can’t. All that escapes her numb lips is, “Oh.”

               Tiffany curses herself for not being able to solace the girl, because that’s what she’s best at, but she must have seen some reason in the immense sorrow in the girl’s eyes because the rest of her words die in . Tiffany wants to hug the girl –or at least tell her that it’s fine –she wants to console her in any way that she can, but she can’t.

               It’s too complicated for her –or at least, that’s what Tiffany’s excessively cautious mind convinces her, and she settles for being submissive, for once, because she doesn’t want to cause any further damage.

               “Why don’t you go sit down? I’ll bring your order right to you,” Tiffany changes the subject lamely, and to her relief, the girl complies.

               The shop falls silent, and even though silence usually makes Tiffany feel lonesome, it’s actually comfortable, and the presence of the girl seems to light up the shop. As Tiffany places a small cup of caramel macchiato on a plate, she unintentionally glances back at the display of pastries where her eyes fall on the gingerbread-man that the girl was eyeing earlier. She glances back at the girl and is hit with a wave of empathy; she feels like she can count the number of kind gestures the girl’s received on one hand.

               And maybe it’s because she feels sympathetic, maybe it’s because it’s her way of apologizing, or maybe it’s because it’s something more, but Tiffany soon finds herself walking away from the girl with a small smile on her face because she just gave the gingerbread-man to her free of charge.

               “THANK YOU, BARISTA!” the girl hollers after her in an uncharacteristically strident voice that causes Tiffany to whirl around. The girl looks embarrassed –cherry setting the undertone of her pale cheeks –and adds, “What’s your name?”

               Tiffany blinks at the peculiar transition, but decides to answer, seeing no harm in it. “Stephanie,” she replies, revealing her full name. She says it in an American accent, which causes the girl’s uneasy smile to drop right off her face.

               She looks perplexed, and her feathery eyebrows dip down in a slight frown as she struggles for the next thirty seconds, to Tiffany’s amusement, to pronounce the foreign name. Unable to hold in her laughter any longer, Tiffany hastily adds, “Just call me Tiffany.”

               “Ti…pa…ni?” The girl struggles with this as well, though she manages it with an inexplicably delightful pout. She grows frustrated and lashes out, “Why can’t you just tell me your Korean name!?”

               Tiffany’s smile fades as her eyes dart from side to side, avoiding the girl’s gaze. The one thing Tiffany detests more than bugs is revealing her Korean name, mainly because of how much everyone teases her for it. Tiffany’s not exactly a big fan of it either, since she thinks it sounds like a name that would belong to an old lady who lives on a farm, but that doesn’t mean she enjoys other people’s feedback.

               She particularly doesn’t want to be made fun of by such a timorous girl, who probably has a much cooler name, so she retorts, evasively, “Well, I don’t know your name.”

               “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” the girl shoots back, and Tiffany thinks it’s kind of cute seeing her so outspoken and determined about something, for once.

               She shakes her head slowly, concealing her unease with a smile. “Nope. I won’t tell you. Besides, I’m probably not going to see you again, so what’s the point?”

               For a moment, Tiffany sees something like forlornness flash through the girl’s eyes at that, but it’s gone within a second glance, because then she’s crossing her arms and declaring, “Fine! I’ll just keep coming back every day until you tell me your name, then!”

               Tiffany just rolls her eyes skeptically and walks away, but maybe, some part of her wishes that the girl will keep coming back.

************

Tiffany’s bored.

She’s flipping through the pages of some discarded newspaper she found outside, and she sighs, because she wishes she could have done something more for her mother. She bites her lip before releasing another sigh, something that seems to be abundant today, and tosses the newspaper in the trash.

               To calm her nerves, she decides to pray again, because there’s nothing she can really do, but it’s at that precise moment that the muffled sound of fabric smacking against wood resonates through the little shop. Tiffany jumps, and she’s a little aggravated that her prayers always seem to be interrupted, but that’s soon forgotten when she turns around to meet the eyes of a very familiar girl. She’s leaning over the counter, hands pressed firmly against the countertop to support her, and she reminds Tiffany of an earnest little puppy.

               Her tinted hazel eyes are sparkling eagerly, and Tiffany’s dumbfounded to see her here again, but even more so to hear her say, “Can you tell me your name now?”

               Tiffany blinks. She’s not really sure where this is going, or why the girl actually cares so much, but she’s inadvertently smiling as she replies, “Nope, not today, silly.”

               The girl leans back with a defeated pout, and Tiffany wonders if she realizes how odd this is, but all hope of that realization is gone when the girl dynamically smacks the countertop and announces, “Then I’ll be back tomorrow!” Tiffany’s conjecturing where the girl abruptly gained her confidence from, but that disappears when the girl’s demeanor brusquely changes and she asks softly, “Can I have a caramel macchiato?”

               Dazed, Tiffany complies, and she somehow finds herself handing off another free gingerbread-man to her. She shakes her head. She really pities the girl, or at least that’s what she tells herself.

               The next day, to Tiffany’s disbelief (and maybe a little joy), the girl returns, again. She asks the same question, and in turn, Tiffany gives her the same response, which just results in her declaring her inevitable return. Tiffany rolls her eyes, but she’s secretly smiling, curious as to how long this will go on. This continues for the next week, and as promised, the girl returns every day, without fail.

To Tiffany, it’s not so much the fear of being teased anymore; rather, she’s amused, and interested to see how far the girl’s willing to go to get her name. She no longer fears telling the girl her name because, somewhere in the midst of the week, she’s actually come to trust the eccentric girl. The thought fills her with a strange warmth, and she grins like a moron as she stirs her caramel macchiato, which has become her favorite drink.

She doesn’t know how or when it happened –maybe it’s because the girl is so pitiable that it’s heartrending –but she’s starting to forget how to function properly when the girl’s around. Something about her devilishly endearing grin makes Tiffany glance away shyly, and when she does manage to muster to courage to look into the girl’s alluring tinted hazel eyes, she can’t compose herself to anything but a silly smile. In fact, she often catches herself smiling at the thought of the girl, as well as the sweet things she does to get Tiffany’s attention.

               The gradual pace of her dull life has precipitously become accelerated, and Tiffany soon finds herself counting the hours between the girl’s daily visits.  She’s starting to spend more and more time in front of the mirror, and she’s never been one to put much emphasis on appearance, but maybe, in an infatuated sort of way, she likes it when the girl’s eyes light up every time she sees Tiffany.

               Though Tiffany makes it dreadfully obvious, unlike the girl, Tiffany isn’t oblivious to the other’s feelings. She knows the girl has feelings for her as well, and though the girl isn’t exactly the best at expressing them, the thought alone that there are feelings involved is enough to make Tiffany smile like the lovesick romantic that she is.

               One day when Tiffany’s cleaning around the shop, the girl offers to help, and Tiffany eventually finds herself stealing glances at the girl, her work all but neglected. When the girl attempts to dust the higher shelves and can’t reach them, Tiffany really should offer to help, but she’s content with watching the shorter girl hop on her toes and attempt to do it herself. There’s just something in the little things that she does for Tiffany that make Tiffany’s heart flutter.

               Telling the girl her name is just a trivial thing in the back of her mind now, but Tiffany fears that when she finally does decide to disclose her name, the girl will cease to visit anymore. It’s highly implausible, but the idea is enough to scare Tiffany into hesitating.

               Then, one day, Tiffany breaks her own heart.

               “Every day, huh?” Tiffany enquires, avoiding eye contact. She’s playing with the girl’s fingers, hesitantly tracing the lines of her palm, and she wants to hold her hand so badly that her heart aches. She just needs confirmation of the girl’s intentions, but the irrepressible fear immobilizes her from meeting the girl’s eyes.

“Every day,” the girl confirms, and Tiffany’s heart swells. “I’ll come every day until you tell me a name I can actually pronounce. I’ll even come on Christmas.” Then, her heart sinks.

“We’re not open on Christmas,” Tiffany informs her quietly.

She curses her father, but even more so, she’s ashamed of herself, because she would rather spend Christmas with an unnamed girl than her own father. Her heart breaks when she sees the despondent look on the girl’s face, and she realizes that she probably has nobody to spend Christmas with. This breaks her heart even more, and she squeezes the girl’s hand in an encouraging manner, because she has nothing more to offer.

“To tell you the truth…” Tiffany hesitates, because she doesn’t know what to say. Then, she involuntarily spills her heart out. “I haven’t told you my name yet because I wanted to keep seeing you.”

Tiffany curses herself, grimacing, before peeking at the girl’s expression. The girl blinks, and she looks sort of dazed. Then, she asks the dreaded question. “Why?”

“It’s more complicated than you think,” Tiffany answers, eluding the girl’s gaze. The unfortunate truth in her own words hurts Tiffany more than she’s aware.

The girl’s face is blank. “Why wouldn’t you be able to see me?”

My father, Christianity, unnecessary complications, fate, Tiffany acrimoniously lists to herself, but what she actually says is, “I don’t even know your name.”

“Well… Like I said, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” the girl reminds Tiffany, her voice filled with a hope that Tiffany desperately wishes she could harbor herself.

The coffee machine stops grinding, so Tiffany reluctantly lets go of the girl’s hand hand to go make her drink. It pains her to do so, enough that her chest starts to constrict, making her breathing unstable. She finds her eyes stinging with unshed tears, and she bites her lip to keep her jaw from quivering.

“I’ll still come on Christmas, anyways. Even if you’re closed,” the girl calls after her, and she doesn’t respond, for fear of bursting into tears. The thought of Christmas reminds Tiffany of her father –of the reality that not only does she have to abandon the girl for Christmas, but if her father found out that Tiffany was interested in someone, let alone a girl…

She feels like every dream she’s ever had has been crushed, and that stuns her, because she realizes that this girl may be every dream she’s ever had.

Is this what love feels like? Tiffany wonders as she steals a glance at the girl, and the thought sends a wave of anguish through her heart, because she recognizes how slim the chances are of actually being able to love the only person she’s ever loved.

In spite of the desolate mood, Tiffany still wants to maintain hope that something will happen.

Anything.

************

               “JESSI!” Tiffany squeals (in decibels that cannot be achieved by normal human means) as she throws herself at a terribly thin but otherworldly dazzling girl who cringes at her advance.

After the initial shock, the girl wraps her arms around Tiffany’s waist and pats her back as she kicks the door shut. Tiffany grins, nuzzling her face into the girl’s expensive leather jacket, inhaling the sweet fragrance of strawberries as she plays with familiar blonde locks. “What are you doing here?” she asks, eagerly gazing up into warm brunette eyes.

               Though the girl appears to be quite aloof, she smiles sweetly, Tiffany’s hair with one hand as she replies, “What, am I unwelcomed, now?”

               “Never! I’m just curious. San Francisco is a long ways from Seoul, Jessica,” Tiffany reminds her with an unwavering smile.

               Jessica, Tiffany’s best friend, is the mother that her father fails to be. She may be apathetic, cold, and spend most of her time glued to books or beds (or both), but she’s always had a soft spot for Tiffany. Likewise, Tiffany’s always found comfort in the older girl’s gentle words, warm embrace, and cat-like voice.

               “My, my, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Leo, Tiffany’s older brother, grins when he spots Jessica. “How has life at AAU been, Jung?”

               Soon, Tiffany’s whole family crowds around the American model, and Tiffany has a hard time maintaining possession of her. It’s only after the Christmas Eve dinner that Tiffany finally finds time with Jessica to herself, but the topic they end up on is anything but what she’d expected.

               “I came down to Seoul to visit my cousin, actually,” Jessica admits, taking a sip of hot chocolate as she gazes out the balcony. “But she told me she was busy.”

               “Ouch! Rejected by your cousin? You’re pathetic, Jessi,” Tiffany teases and Jessica giggles a soft, breathy laugh.

               Tiffany’s always admired Jessica’s laugh; it’s elegant and feminine and seems to caress her ears, unlike her own flamboyant one, which only hurts her ears. However, after hearing what Jessica says next, her laugh is the last thing on Tiffany’s mind.

               “I don’t know, Tiff. She told me it’s because she’s trying to find out some barista’s Korean name, so you tell me who’s pathetic,” Jessica chuckles, unaware of the impact her words have.

               Tiffany’s brain short-circuits.

She stiffens, her grin fading as she swallows uneasily. Her mind goes blank at Jessica’s words, and she blinks several times in an attempt to recover, but all that happens is she becomes more uncertain.

The likelihood that her best friend is the girl’s cousin makes her stomach churn. Her heart’s pounding in her ears now, and she’s filled with anomalous anticipation as she nonsensically asks, “Your c-cousin?”

               “Mhm, she’s so whipped.” Jessica rolls her eyes. “It’s pretty funny. She told me she goes to this barista’s shop like every day, and she kept going on about how the barista always gives her a free gingerbread-man.” She shakes her head, as if it’s the most amusing thing she’s ever heard. Then she pauses, frowning, before continuing in a more solemn tone, “Well, to Taeng it must be, though. After all, she doesn’t have the most joyful life. I pity her, but there’s not much time I have these days to actually do anything about it.”

It’s silent after that, to an alarming extent, and as oblivious as Jessica can be, for once, her keen intellect picks up on her best friend’s unrest. “Tiff, you okay?” she asks gently, glancing at the remarkably pale girl, who appears to be frozen in her seat. “Wait… are you still a barista at Michelle’s old shop…?” Jessica trails off, and she gasps, her eyes widening as she makes the connection. She bites her lip and glances anxiously at Tiffany.

               “Tell me about ‘Taeng’, Jessica,” Tiffany murmurs quietly.

************

               Maybe she just doesn’t remember it, but Tiffany’s never noticed how nice the paint on the ceiling of her room is.

It’s a smooth baby pink that falls gentle on the eye, and something she’s finds quite soothing. However, even after staring blankly at it for four hours, she doesn’t feel the slightest bit soothed. In fact, the more time passes, the more unnerved she feels, and the more disconcerted her frantic mind becomes. She’s filled with countless emotions, many unfamiliar ones, and it’s just too much for her to process.

               It’s mostly just melancholy, though.

               Tiffany’s still trying to process what Jessica told her about Kim Taeyeon.

               As perturbed as Tiffany is, still forms a reflexive smile at the name.

Taeyeon.

That’s her name.

And Tiffany was right, it’s much cooler than Miyoung. She also did technically break the deal she had with Taeyeon, since she found out her name without giving her own.

But, as always, Tiffany’s heartbroken –something Taeyeon has a talent for fortuitously doing. Tiffany’s constantly hit with waves of poignancy because of Taeyeon, but she’s never felt this besieged by it.

She doesn’t know whether it’s because of Taeyeon’s miserable past, piteous present, or the fact that Tiffany’s known Jessica long enough to have made a difference a long time ago, but never thought to ask, or all three.

Tiffany sighs and runs her hand through her hair in distress as she sits up on her bed.

There’s nothing more she wants to do than embrace Taeyeon and try to make up for all the anguish she’s been put through, but her father destroys all hope of that. Tiffany grits her teeth, unintended animosity ading every fiber of her body at the thought of him, before she releases a shaky breath.

She’s never felt this conflicted before. It’s as if an unbearable, irremovable weight has been placed on her heart, and it’s steadily growing denser and denser until she’s can’t breathe.

Truthfully, her relationship with her father has always been unstable, and it’s only worsened over time, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him. He is her father after all, and she knows it’s only because he loves her that he ends up making senseless, inadvertent mistakes.

And honestly, Taeyeon is nothing like the fantasies Tiffany’s had. She isn’t a tall, broad-shouldered man, or a romantic, suave woman. In fact, she’s awkward, can’t express herself, introversive, naive, oblivious, and stubborn, not to mention short, underweight, and clumsy. Yet, Tiffany finds Taeyeon beautiful in more ways than one, and her flaws only seem to make her more appealing to Tiffany. The more she sees Taeyeon’s enthralling smile and tinted hazel eyes, the more her resistance crumbles.

But Taeyeon isn’t perfect, not in the least; it’s because of Taeyeon that Tiffany’s in pain, and it’s because of Taeyeon that she can’t face her father. In fact, she may be the very reason that Tiffany stops talking to her father.

And even so, Tiffany loves her.

She’s in love with Taeyeon.

And Taeyeon is everything she could have ever dreamed for.

Tiffany inhales sharply.

Love isn’t supposed to be like this.

After a few minutes of fruitless deliberation, Tiffany gives up and heads downstairs to the kitchen. She finds herself mimicking the frustrated actors of Full House as she pours herself a glass of water and wolfs it down vigorously.

“Whoa, easy there! You might hurt the water if you drink any faster,” a husky voice calls teasingly.

A single flickers on, and it forces Tiffany to squint. However, in the absence of the darkness, she can make out a young man of average-height, robed in a black tank top and checkered pajama bottoms. Tiffany rolls her eyes as her older brother grins goofily at her, moving to stand beside her. He leans against the counter without saying a word, pursing his lips and rubbing his cropped raven hair as Tiffany drinks the rest of her water quietly.

Leo has always been Tiffany’s favorite member of the family, particularly because he always knew exactly what to say or do. Just his warm presence makes Tiffany feel more at ease, and when she sighs allusively after finishing her glass of water, he takes it from her and places it on his head. The unexpected action causes Tiffany to burst out laughing, and Leo grins victoriously as he removes it from his scalp.

“So, what’s the deal, baby sis?” he asks once Tiffany’s calmed down. “You went to bed super early and you wouldn’t make eye contact with Dad at all. Well, you never do, but I don’t get the sleeping early part –especially since Jessica’s here.”

Tiffany sighs, for what may be the umpteenth time that night, and shakes her head.

“I just –I don’t know. It’s really complicated.” Leo doesn’t say anything, signaling for her to continue. “So, there’s this girl–”

Leo wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Now we’re talking.”

Tiffany rolls her eyes and smacks him playfully before growing somber again. “Anyways, she’s all alone, tomorrow… Her father passed away when she was little, and the rest of her family doesn’t want her home for Christmas. She has no friends, and she told her cousin she was ‘too busy’ because of me.”

It’s dreadfully silent after that, and even Leo grows composed when he senses the graveness of the situation.  “It sounds like you’re really torn up about her.”

 “Oppa…” In a tone that exudes trepidation, Tiffany whispers, “I think I’m in love with her.”

If possible, it’s even quieter than before, to the point where the silence is deafening. It’s too much for Tiffany, so she screws her eyes shut, not knowing what to expect–

“So, what’s the problem?”

Tiffany’s eyes fly open, and she blinks rapidly before staring at her brother.

“W-what?” she stutters, in pure astonishment.

“What’s the problem?” Leo repeats, raising an eyebrow. “You love her. Does she not love you back?”

The way her brother says ‘love’, almost as if he’s cradling the word, makes Tiffany hesitate.

“W-well, I don’t know about love, but Jessica says she definitely likes me,” Tiffany mumbles, ducking her head to hide the foreseeable blush.

“Okay, so you love her and she loves you. I don’t see the problem.”

“It’s… it’s just too complicated,” Tiffany sighs before glancing up at her brother.

She’s surprised to see Leo smiling, but it’s only then that she notices that his radiant eyes are touched with a hint of sorrow, in spite of the absolute solace and understanding in his smile.

“Nothing’s too complicated, Steph. Everything is essentially simple –we humans just have a tendency of creating complications for ourselves.” Leo gives her a half-smile. “Sure, Dad can be a prick, but you’re twenty-thee, you know what you’re doing. Sure, maybe you’re both girls, but so what? That bible crap was probably made up by some homophobic priest. God gave us the purest thing he created, besides Jesus, and that was love. By no means, definitely not uality, can love be bound by anything.” He nudges Tiffany with his elbow. “So go get her before it’s too late, tiger.”

For a moment, the chaotic muddle in Tiffany’s mind is clear, and with the conviction that Leo speaks with, she almost believes him. A smile gradually starts spreading across her face–

“Her?”

Then it’s all shattered. Tiffany’s eyes close as she exhales slowly, trying to contain her rage at the familiar, unwelcomed voice.

“It’s a her?” the husky, baritone voice demands in an appalled tone.

Tiffany’s always been fond of her voice, but at that moment, she wishes it was anything but husky. She doesn’t answer, childishly turning her face away, which leads to ominous footsteps only getting closer.

Tiffany’s father isn’t all that tall, nor does he look very aged, but there’s a certain air of authority about him, and his demeanor is frankly intimidating, even in a baggy gray t-shirt and black sweatpants. Though it’s only been a year since Tiffany’s seen him, she can barely recognize the man as her father, even with the identical lips, cheekbones, and jawline.

“Stephanie, answer me,” he growls, and when she doesn’t, he bellows, “Hwang Miyoung!”

“Yes, it’s a girl!” Tiffany finally cries back, her voice cracking as her patience snaps. Her father falls silent, stunned by her outspoken defiance, but even more so to see the unshed tears in her eyes. “I’m in love with a girl! And there’s nothing you can do about it!”

The statement causes his nostrils to flare, and his momentary hesitation disappears. His jaw clenches as his eyebrows knit together to crease his tanned forehead.

“’Nothing I can do about it?’ You’re damn right there’s nothing I can do about it. Ever since you moved out, you’ve become more and more unlike yourself –you’re turning into a delinquent!” he snaps, slurring between Korean and English in his rage.

“I’m twenty-three, Dad! Stop being so -hurt that I moved out and stopped being your little princess. How long did you expect me to live in this house, anyways?” Tiffany shoots back, and a look of hurt crosses her father’s face.

“Dad–,” Leo begins, but he’s cut off by his father almost immediately.

“Until you had to! You moved out way too early, and now look what happened! Y-you’re… you turned into a lesbian!” Tiffany’s never seen her father this livid before, nor as she ever been as wounded by his words. “If you had just waited until you were old enough to find the right person, this wouldn’t have happened! How many sins have you committed besides being a homoual? Have you stolen? Are you a e?” Tiffany feels like he just slapped her across the face, and he may as well have. “You are absolutely not going to ‘go get’ this girl, and you are not allowed to spend Christmas with her! You are not stepping foot out of this house tomorrow, Miyoung.”

He’s breathing heavily, probably preparing himself for another comeback, but Tiffany says nothing. Silently, she glowers at him with tears running down her face, because there are simply no words to describe how aggrieved she is. She purses her lips together, as if she’s going to say something, and her father opens his mouth to retort, but before he can, she turns and sprints out of the kitchen.

Tiffany’s ears are ringing, and in the muffled background, she can hear Leo screaming at her father, but she isn’t really listening. She runs inside her room, slamming the door shut before falling back against it as her legs give out.

There, where nobody can see her pain, she succumbs to incorrigible tears.  

************

While all the other Hwangs, both young and old, are unwrapping their gifts, Tiffany sits quietly beside Jessica in the corner.

It’s Christmas morning, and she wants to get Taeyeon a Christmas present.

She wants to write a whole letter confessing her love to Taeyeon, but she realizes that might just freak her out. She wants to pour her heart out, or at least give Taeyeon some hint, but there’s nothing to say.

               Tiffany wants to get Taeyeon an authentic gift, but when she actually thinks about their relationship, they can’t really even be classified as friends. True, by some means Tiffany did manage to fall in love with Taeyeon, but they’ve only known each other for a few weeks. Their limited interactions mostly revolve around obtaining Tiffany’s Korean name (and refreshments), and Tiffany doesn’t even know Taeyeon’s–

               “Jessica,” she whispers, “Can you cover for me? I’ll be right back.”

               “Whatever,” the drowsy model replies with a yawn. Tiffany mumbles a quick thanks and departs before her father notices.            

It’s a simple note, really.

 But it’s sincere.

And apparently, it’s enough, because when Tiffany peeks through the blinds of the shop, Taeyeon has the widest, most heartfelt smile she’s ever seen. There’s earnest contentment sparkling in her tinted hazel eyes, and her dazzling smile is starting to make Tiffany feel light-headed.

Then, Taeyeon seems to notice the particular hint that Tiffany deliberately left for her, because she frowns, and Tiffany wants to facepalm when she sees the blank look on Taeyeon’s face.

Some things will never change.

Nevertheless, even though her heart is swelling in ecstasy at Taeyeon’s genuine happiness, Tiffany can’t shake the events of last night from her mind. There’s this incongruous forlornness ruining this moment for her, and when she gazes at Taeyeon again, it’s in pain, with a look of sorrow, a wistful smile.

A smile tinged with melancholy.

Tiffany knows this will be the last time she’ll ever smile on Christmas.

Somehow, she knows this will be the last Christmas that Taeyeon will smile, too.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: Jessica is forever blonde in my head, as Tiffany is brunette.

And so maybe I’m a little -hurt that Tiffany’s dad didn’t want her to become a singer, and some of that came out in the story, but he seems like a pretty cool guy, so don’t get me wrong.

I apologize for the absolute crap that this part was, and how dully lengthy it was, but I didn’t intend on continuing the story, so I struggled quite a bit with it.

Nevertheless, the final part is coming up next, and hopefully it’s more read-able.