A/N: So this is the first completed story I’ve ever posted on AFF. I feel accomplished. Happy Late New Year’s guys, and let’s enjoy the Goddesses’ comeback! :D Posting this super late, so I haven't proof-read it yet. Plese excuse any potential errors or inconsistencies :/

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Waking up to Taeyeon’s face in the morning is one of the most rewarding sensations Tiffany’s ever experienced, and feeling Taeyeon’s slender arms snake around her waist as she makes breakfast fills Tiffany with utmost delight. She gets flustered when Taeyeon rests her chin on her shoulder, partially because her face is so close, but also because whenever the opportunity permits, Taeyeon sneaks a kiss on her cheek. Tiffany’s not sure how much more red her face can get before it explodes.

The next two weeks are the most gratifying days of Tiffany’s life; they’re spent with more love than anybody could possibly imagine.

It’s almost like being married to Taeyeon, Tiffany realizes one day as she’s nuzzling her face into the dip between Taeyeon’s neck and shoulder. The revelation is an elegiac one, and the thought of it is so inviting that Tiffany’s heart aches. She moves Taeyeon’s hair out of the way to place a lingering kiss on the back of her neck before sighing in unfeasible longing.

I love you so much.

Tiffany props herself up on one elbow to gain a better view of Taeyeon, withdrawing her arm from the smaller girl’s waist as she does so.

Against the pallid sheets of Taeyeon’s bed, every hue on her body looks vibrant, and she’s smiling in an endearingly complacent manner. The smile brings out her chin dimple and fills Tiffany with inexplicit warmth as she smiles as well. She reaches out to tentatively brush her fingertips against Taeyeon’s smooth cheek before moving down to trace her defined jawline. As if trying to memorize it, Tiffany continues to map every feature of Taeyeon’s immaculate face.

I want to keep this forever, Tiffany thinks to herself.

Taeyeon’s closed eyelids are tinged with a light shade of auburn, which only intensifies the contrast conceived by her thick, dark eyelashes. Her lips are swollen, pungently pink, and Tiffany has to blush, though she’s sort of pleased knowing she’s the cause for that. Taeyeon’s skin is even paler than normal, but it’s entrancing, and it’s only then that Tiffany realizes how deeply she’s fallen in love with Taeyeon.

Taeyeon looks like a mess in the morning –mouth slightly agape, coated with drool, occasionally shifting as she talks in her sleep, chestnut hair disheveled across her pillow, limbs sprawled literally everywhere –and yet, to Tiffany, she’s so beautiful that it hurts. It’s almost as if every flaw only makes Taeyeon more appealing to Tiffany, and that her mind can only acknowledge the favorable aspects of her.

Tiffany sighs, soundlessly getting out of bed. She showers and changes briefly, but before she departs, she pauses by the bedroom; the slightly ajar door allows her a peek of Taeyeon. She’s still asleep, but the complacent smile is now gone, replaced with a troubled frown.

Tiffany’s stomach lurches with guilt, so she leaves a note on Taeyeon’s dresser letting her know of her whereabouts –or at least, the false alibi of her whereabouts. She hesitates by the doorway, again, involuntarily glancing back at Taeyeon. With a defeated sigh, Tiffany returns to the bed and cradles Taeyeon’s face gently, leaning over to press her lips against her forehead before pulling back and smiling in earnest sorrow.

With every fiber of her body resisting, with her heart screaming at her to go back, Tiffany hastily leaves the apartment. She sprints down to the parking garage and practically dives into her Corolla; she knows if she regains her senses, she’ll never be able to leave.

It’s ironic that the whole time Tiffany’s driving, Girls’ Generation’s Lost in Love is playing. The song is tearing her apart, but thankfully, after an agonizingly long trip, she arrives at the familiar house.

She has no idea what’s going to happen once she enters it, and she has full intention of letting them know of her relationship with Taeyeon, but she has an intuition that it’s not going to end well, one way or another.

Tiffany doesn’t ring the doorbell, because when she touches the door it swings open. Stunned at the lack of security, Tiffany’s tempted to make a break for it, and she almost does, but something about the depressing atmosphere inside the house prevents her from doing so.

She’s surprised, at the very least, when she isn’t bombarded by aunts and uncles or tripping over little Hwangs darting through the halls. In fact, the house appears forsaken, shrouded in total darkness, and Tiffany wonders if anybody even resides here anymore. The only indication of life is the obsolete furniture, and it’s so outlandishly tidy that Tiffany’s positive the house is owned by a different patron.

“Hello?” she calls as she begins to venture through the house.

She receives no response, and her stomach churns uneasily, but when she moves upstairs, she notices a light at the end of the corridor. Tiffany moves towards it, but as she does, she’s instilled with unshakable fear, unsure of what to say to them, unsure of their reaction, unsure of–

“Daddy?”

Tiffany’s husky, inquisitive voice is the only thing that fills the deafening silence of the house.

There’s a desolate man inside the room, arranging ornaments and lights on a Christmas tree –one that’s much too large for one person. Tiffany’s heart breaks at the sight, even more so when her father turns around with a startled expression. There are bags under his dark eyes, which are filled with the same loneliness that Taeyeon’s eyes once harbored. His face is worn, and he’s sporting a slight stubble; he actually looks his age for once.

His face is empty, but his eyes are filled with such an overcoming sense of gratitude at her unannounced presence that Tiffany’s heart drops.

“O-oh!” he cries in shock, blinking several times, as if trying to confirm that he isn’t hallucinating. His voice isn’t husky, but raspy, as if it’s been unused. “Hey, kid! How’s it going?”

Tiffany easily sees through his poor attempt at being nonchalant but decides to play along with it. 

“Good. I’m really happy, Dad,” Tiffany replies, mentally adding, or at least, I was. “Do you want a hand with that?”

Her father glances at the tangled decorations on the large tree, then back down at the mess in his hands, before grinning sheepishly at Tiffany.

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

Tiffany moves to stand beside him, and they begin to decorate the tree in silence. There’s a very specific reason that Tiffany’s here, but that’s forgotten as she gazes at her father. He looks so miserable that Tiffany wants to smash her head in, knowing it’s because of her.

“The house is really clean. I think this is the first time it’s ever been that way. Good job, Dad,” Tiffany pipes up, grinning teasingly as she helps him wrap a wreath around the center of the tree.

“Thanks,” he chortles. “I have more time on my hand now a-days so I figured, why not, right?”

“Of course. But I’d think work would be much busier around this time of the year,” Tiffany muses with a wistful pout. Tiffany’s father doesn’t respond, and Tiffany’s heart wrenches –she assumes the worst as she whispers, “Daddy, are you still working?”

He shakes his head sullenly.

“No, I got fired,” he admits quietly, turning away from Tiffany as he searches the box of decorations.

Tiffany gasps, dropping the lights in her hands. “Why?!”

Her father chuckles, but it’s morose, full of bitterness. “They told me that a pastor shouldn’t involve himself with sinful affairs.”

Tiffany frowns, unable to think of any ‘sins’ her father had committed, before her jaw drops. “Daddy, was it because–?”

“It’s not your fault,” he cuts her off as he turns to face her. “They didn’t want a bad reputation spreading for their church. They told me that ‘being the father of a homoual daughter is just as much of a sin as being one himself.’” He smiles fondly. “I told them that being the father of an angel comes with repercussions.”

Tiffany would be touched, but she’s submerged in so much guilt that she can’t even look at her father. “Daddy, I’m so sorry–”

He shakes his head, raising a hand to quiet her.

“Don’t worry about it, Tiff. Can you hand me that elf?”

Tiffany complies wordlessly, and they elapse into another painful silence. The stillness is even worse than talking, because neither of them can even attempt to act like they care about decorating the Christmas tree.

“So, where is everybody, Dad?” Tiffany breaks the silence, pretending to be immersed in selecting the most suitable ornaments. Something occurs to her, and her voice drops to a whisper as she asks guiltily, “Are they not here because of me, too?”

 “Well, some of them are mad at me,” he answers honestly, and he almost sounds amused, then he continues in a solemn tone, “But it’s mostly because they’re all in America with your grandmother.”

Tiffany’s eyebrows knit together in a frown.

“What’s wrong with Grandma?”

 “Tiffany…” She glances at him, and the unsuspecting ingenuousness in her eyes makes him sigh, as if it pains him to tell her (which it does, immensely). “She’s in a coma.”

The silence after that is insufferable. Tiffany feels like someone is choking her. She swallows, trying to breathe evenly despite the thickness in , as she enquires, “W-what happened?”

Her father bites his lip uncertainly. “Your uncle told me it was because of emotional shock.”  

Tiffany doesn’t need to ask, she already knows the answer. She doesn’t want to hear it. “Why didn’t you go, Daddy?” she asks, instead.

“I wanted to, but…” he hesitates, glancing at Tiffany, as if judging whether she can handle the answer or not. Finally, he says, “I couldn’t afford the tickets.”

Tiffany’s stomach churns at that. “How long have you been unemployed, Daddy?” she inquires, in a voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitates again, then–

“Almost a year.”

Tiffany’s aware that the wage for pastor is already quite low, so to think that her father’s been unemployed for almost a year because of her is too devastating. She’s drowning in guilt again, her lungs burning unbearably, and she can’t breathe, because she’ll burst into tears if she does, and her tears are only going to burn more.

Sensing his daughter’s distress, her father changes the subject. “So, how’s that girl of yours? You still see her, right?”

Stupefied, Tiffany glances at him, blinking in shock. She had completely neglected the whole reason she had even come in the first place, but to hear that her father was reminding her about that perplexes her.

 Finally, she nods. “Of course I do.”

“Wow, a year and counting. She’s really something, huh?”

Tiffany’s throat is thick, again. “You have no idea. She’s great, Daddy –she’s –she’s perfect. She’s beautiful, and sweet, and caring, and loyal –I mean, she’s really shy, and she can’t express herself very well, but she’s always there for me.”

Her dad smiles at that, to her further astonishment.

“She sounds like a keeper. What’s her name?”

“Taeyeon. And Dad–,” Tiffany hesitates, because she’s never told him –or anyone besides Leo and Jessica, for that matter –and she’s not sure how he’ll react. What if he’s just being nice? What if he hates her for it? But there’s such compassion in his eyes, and Tiffany realizes she’s never shared her heart with her father, so–, “I’m in love with her.”

Her father’s face goes blank. He doesn’t say anything, frowning slightly as he glances away, as if he can’t bear to meet his daughter’s eyes. They’re enveloped in an alarming silence, one that renders Tiffany so petrified that she’s actually about to close her eyes, mentally preparing herself for the inevitable explosion–

“So, you love her, huh?”

The tranquility of the air is undisturbed, almost as if her father hadn’t spoken. He’s still not looking at her, and his voice is distant, but there’s no malice in it.

 It’s an austere question, so cautiously, Tiffany nods, heart in . “With all of my heart.”

“Does she love you back?”

Tiffany hesitates, because although that’s how it seems, although Taeyeon says she does, she’s never really voiced those three words herself. Nevertheless, with unease, she nods, again.

“Yes.”

Her father exhales deeply. Tiffany bites her lip, staring at his backside in anticipation before closing her eyes, and she almost wants to pray–

“I’m happy for you.”

Tiffany’s eyes fly open. Her father’s standing there, facing her with a genuine smile, and although there’s visible grief in it, his eyes are filled with the same warmth that… that her mother had.

Tiffany breaks down and charges at her father, throwing her arms around his neck and finally letting go of the tears she’s been holding back.

“I love you, Daddy,” Tiffany weeps into his neck. The collar of his shirt is starting to get soaked from her tears, but he wraps his arms around her middle and pulls her closer, her hair consolingly. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, kid. It’s okay.” Then, he says the words Tiffany’s been waiting her whole life for. “Do what you please, Stephanie. If you want to be with her, then I’m okay with it.”

Tiffany cries harder.

They stay like that for a while, and even though Tiffany’s heart should be swelling with blissful reprieve, it’s not. It’s hurting, it’s hurting so bad that she chokes in the midst of her sobbing, clenching the fabric of her father’s shirt for support.

Somehow, even with his consent, Tiffany knows it’s not okay.

It’ll never be okay.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she whispers.

I’m so sorry, Taeyeon.

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

               It’s been a week since Taeyeon’s heard from Tiffany, but she just figures the latter is busy.

Besides, the last two weeks spent with her amend for the week of absence, by far.  Even though Taeyeon hasn’t talked to Tiffany in a week, she’s as exultant as ever. The warm memories created over the span of two weeks are enough to keep her content, and in spite of having to wake up without Tiffany by her side (or better yet, in her arms), she grins like a moron as she thumbs the sticky note in her pocket.

Taeyeon,

I’m sorry I left before you woke up, but I had to go to the shop. People still need their coffee. But I’ll see you soon, okay? Wait for my call. xoxo

Love,

Tiffany

Taeyeon’s waited a week for Tiffany’s call, but she hasn’t gotten one yet. She finds that odd, but she’s willing to wait, especially since she knows how demanding life at the shop can get during the holiday season. Not to mention, since the holiday break is coming up, Taeyeon’s all but buried with work, herself. The only time she’s able to even think about Tiffany is before she passes out from exhaustion in her bed at night.

But today is Christmas, so all of Taeyeon’s concerns vanish.

Tiffany promised to spend this Christmas with her, and Taeyeon’s heart leaps at the mere thought of it, so she hastily pockets the gift she made for Tiffany before dashing out the door in exhilaration.

She’s met with an anomalous sight when she gets to the shop; Tiffany’s locking up, as usual, but something’s amiss, because the undecipherable English sign is missing. The inside of the shop is barren, and the entrance is barricaded with a metal gate chained off with a colossal padlock that Tiffany’s rattling, to affirm that it’s locked.

Taeyeon shrugs it off, because maybe it’s just extra protection until the shop opens again after the New Year.

She sneaks up behind Tiffany and wraps her arms around her waist, which makes the latter jump vehemently. However, Tiffany quickly relaxes when she recognizes the familiar embrace.

“I missed you,” Taeyeon mumbles into Tiffany’s hair, before moving it out of the way and placing a warm kiss on the back of her neck. It sends shivers through Tiffany, but for once, it doesn’t fill her with bashful pleasure. It fills her with unattainable desire and immense remorse.

“Taeyeon–,” Tiffany begins in a desolate tone as she turns to face Taeyeon, but Taeyeon silences her with a chaste kiss.

Despite the forlorn circumstances, Tiffany is dazed, and Taeyeon pulls back with a cheeky smirk –one that brings out her chin dimple –and her uncharacteristically confident wink renders Tiffany breathless. Taeyeon’s tinted hazel eyes are filled with oblivious affection as she produces a scarf from inside of her parka and begins to wrap it around Tiffany, grinning in satisfaction as Tiffany’s eyes widen.

“You should always keep your neck protected when it’s winter,” Taeyeon advises dorkily. Then, her face softens as she asks, “Do you like it?”

Tiffany’s hands fly up to it in response. The scarf has the smooth consistency of water and the delicacy of paper, yet, it’s exceptionally warm, as warm as Taeyeon’s embrace, and softer than fleece. The material is unknown to Tiffany, but the simple yet elegant blend of pink and blue stands out to her; it’s vivid, and fills her with an inconceivable appreciation.

She nods, mutely, too thick to speak.

 “Did you make it yourself?” Tiffany finally inquires, it gently, as if afraid it’s going to disintegrate.

Taeyeon nods. “Mhm. I used pink and blue, since you like pink and I like blue,” she explains timidly with a slight blush.

               Tears start to well up in Tiffany’s eyes, and she looks at Taeyeon with such moroseness that Taeyeon’s taken aback. “Thank you,” Tiffany whispers, sincerely. “But you really shouldn’t have.”

               Taeyeon’s face goes blank. “Why not?”

She’s growing anxious with Tiffany’s unusual behavior, and her heart sinks when she sees the hesitance on Tiffany’s face. Then, to Taeyeon's absolute horror, Tiffany closes her eyes; she only does this when there’s something she can’t say directly to Taeyeon.

               “Taeyeon…” It’s so frightfully silent that Taeyeon can hear Tiffany’s brusque inhalation. “I’m leaving.”

               Two words.

               Just two words.

               And they’re enough to destroy Taeyeon completely.

               “W-what?” she whimpers in a dangerously trembling voice. She really doesn’t know why she asks, because she doesn’t think she can handle it a second time.

               Taeyeon’s fragile voice forces Tiffany to keep her eyes closed as she repeats herself.

“I-I’m leaving, Taeyeon. I’m moving back to America with my father,” Tiffany clarifies, in an equally unsteady voice. She finally opens her eyes, and Taeyeon is staring at her beseechingly, so Tiffany answers the obvious, unspoken question. “From the moment I met you, he didn’t approve of us being together. I didn’t –I didn’t listen to him. I… even though I knew he would disapprove… even though I knew it was against my religion…” Tiffany lists each adversity slowly, growing feebler with each confession. “Even though I realized what it may do to my family…I still didn’t stop you.”

Taeyeon feels as though her heart was just pierced by a trident, as though it’s tangled in her heartstrings and rusting. She feels as though half of her is absconding –like it’s already gone. She feels like she’s lost nearly everything, and she can’t put a name to whatever it is that’s still keeping her together.

“So, what are you trying to say?” Taeyeon demands, in an attempt to sound intimidating, but she can hear it herself –how incredibly weak she sounds.

“Taeyeon, we can’t–,” Tiffany thinks better of her statement, “I can’t…”

Her voice grows faint when she sees how watery Taeyeon’s eyes are, and Taeyeon grows rigid, recalling what happened the last time she heard those words. Tiffany has to close her eyes again, because she knows she can’t say it when she’s looking at Taeyeon.

“I can’t be with you.”

Those five words cut across the air with tangible grief, and tears sting Taeyeon’s eyes as she’s hit with the bitter reality of their situation. The heartbroken look on her face is enough to make the rest of Tiffany’s words die in . There’s so much she wants to say –she wants to seize Taeyeon and make a break for it –but it’s all stuck in , and she can’t get it out.

 It’s dreadfully still after that, and the silence is filled with an overwhelming sum of unresolved emotions. The air around the two is crisp and frigid, but it feels so dense it’s like it’s suffocating them. There are so many things left unexpressed, so much to be said, but nothing seems right, and Tiffany can’t say them while Taeyeon simply won’t.

Taeyeon doesn’t know what to say to that. She can’t say that she understands, because she doesn’t, she can’t say that it’s okay, because it isn’t, and she can’t say that she forgives Tiffany, because she won't.

The forgotten void is starting to reshape itself in her heart, and it’s constricting her chest so agonizingly that every breath is excruciating –but all she says is, “Oh.”  

Tiffany reaches for Taeyeon’s hand, but she thinks better of it and retracts it. She wants to wrap her arms around Taeyeon, but she can’t.

Especially not after all the pain she’s inflicted.

She tells herself it’s that what she had with Taeyeon was enough, that she’s only doing this to keep her family together, to establish a better life for herself, that falling in love with each other was enough to make her happy, but Tiffany and Taeyeon both know that it’s not.

               Tiffany’s been taught that giving up what’s best for you for what somebody else wants isn’t right, and that giving up for your loved one is admirable, but it isn’t what’s best for you. But in this situation, Tiffany isn’t wrong or admirable.

               She’s in pain.

               She’s doing what somebody else wants, but not at the cost of what’s best for her. She isn’t sacrificing anything for Taeyeon, she’s only being selfish.

“Taeyeon… I’m so sorry,” Tiffany whispers in genuine apology, but Taeyeon isn’t even looking at her. She’s turned away from Tiffany, trying to hide her own tears. “I wanted to tell you this earlier –I should have told you earlier –but I didn’t.” She bites her lip. “You know that I’m Christian. It’s written in the bible that those who ‘practice homouality’ will burn in hell. I mean, I never really believed in uality, I always thought that love was its own thing, but now… I can’t even pray without feeling like I’ve sinned…”

Taeyeon inhales sharply.

“So you’re ashamed of me.” Her voice is unsympathetic, hostile, and frank.

“Taeyeon, no –oh god, no. Never!” Tiffany’s voice is imploring.

Upon hearing the tone of her voice, Taeyeon turns to glance at Tiffany, who shakes her head frantically. Tiffany can’t even express how mistaken Taeyeon is, but thankfully, Taeyeon seems to have discerned this, because she shows that she’s listening.

Tiffany carries on in a sigh, “It’s not just my religion, but it’s the effect that religion has on my family. My dad and I never saw eye-to-eye, especially because of our beliefs surrounding love, but my mom usually kept that at bay. When my mom passed away, our relationship only got worse. I eventually moved out because of him, and that’s when our family started to become divided.

“Still, everything was fine, at least, to an extent where we could share holidays with each other. But now, because of…” Tiffany doesn’t want to say ‘you’, because she’s the one at fault, so she says, instead, “my decision, my family’s suffering. Those who think that my dad is right won’t talk to the ones who want to support me. My sister moved back to America to avoid all the conflict entirely. My brother won’t talk to my dad, and last week was the first time I talked to him in a year, myself.

“My dad lost his job because the church didn’t want ‘sinful behavior’ from a pastor. They said that having a homoual daughter was just as bad as sinning yourself, and a sinful pastor wouldn’t spread good reputation.” Tiffany pauses, to choke back tears; it takes everything in Taeyeon to keep from comforting her. “And my grandmother… she lives in America, still. She’s all by herself, and she… she’s in a coma because of emotional shock. I gave her emotional shock, Taeyeon.” Tiffany’s voice cracks, and it’s so pleading that Taeyeon wants to embrace her, but she knows she can’t. “I can’t do this anymore, Taeyeon. I… I just… I can’t be with you.” Tiffany swallows, grimacing at the thickness of , and manages to smile, somehow, in spite of how much it hurts. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

She in a deep breath before continuing, “And I want to thank you. You… I spent the happiest year of my life with you. And even though there’s so much more to come in both of our lives, I don’t think there’ll ever be another time as significant to me as the time that I had with you. You made my dreams come true, and I… I love you, Taeyeon.”

Taeyeon wants to say it back, she wants to so desperately –but something’s holding her back, and she knows it’s not her pride. She can’t tell Tiffany that she loves her back, because if she does, then she’ll lose everything.

As uncharacteristic as it is, Taeyeon’s love for Tiffany is what’s keeping her together, and it’s the only thing that’s keeping her together.

“And I know that today’s our last Christmas together, and I also realize that I have a habit of giving you really bad gifts, but I guess this year isn’t much different,” Tiffany chuckles cynically as she drops her gaze sheepishly.  

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Taeyeon says quickly, speaking for the first time. “Really.”

“You gave me something to remember you by,” Tiffany points out, touching the handmade scarf lovingly. “It’s only fair, right? I mean, unless…” Tiffany’s voice loses its resolve, “unless you don’t want to remember me.”

Taeyeon mildly brushes Tiffany’s forearm to get her attention as she growls firmly, “Miyoung, you’re the only thing in my life worth remembering.” She wants to do so much more, but she manages to restrain herself as Tiffany timidly glances away, again.

Tiffany blushes as she produces a small, pink package from her purse, immediately grabbing Taeyeon’s interest.  “I didn’t know if I was going to see you before I left, so I was going to drop this off, but I’d rather give it to you in person…”

Taeyeon glances at it curiously as she receives it, before gazing shyly at Tiffany.

“Can I open it?” she asks, eyes shining with a childlike yearning.

Tiffany laughs –genuinely, as much as it hurts –because some things will never change.

And that’s exactly how she wants to remember them.

“Of course.”

Taeyeon opens the package with extreme care, making sure to leave the tape and bindings in place, working diligently with a focused frown. Finally, she pulls the cover open to meet a rather unexpected sight.  

Tiffany bites her lip uneasily, heart sinking rapidly at Taeyeon’s inscrutable reaction.

“I’m sorry if you don’t like it! I just… I didn’t know what else to give you, since the first time we met I–,” Tiffany begins to explain in a shrill voice, but–

“It’s amazing. I love it.” Taeyeon’s throat is thick as she speaks, and Tiffany closes in pure disbelief. Some portion, perhaps the lightest, almost imperceptible fragment, of the weight on her heart is lifted when she hears that. “Did you make it yourself?” Taeyeon asks softly, mimicking Tiffany as she traces the shape of it fondly.

Tiffany nods, numbly. “I made it this morning.”

It’s just a gingerbread cookie, rather sloppily made (though Taeyeon wouldn’t admit that out loud), but Tiffany shaped it in a rather unique and heartwarming fashion. The cookie consists of two gingerbread-women, one embroided with pink buttons and the other with blue; the one with blue buttons is slightly shorter than the one with pink buttons, which makes Taeyeon smile. They’re connected by a red heart –the pink-buttoned gingerbread-woman’s heart –the one she’s giving the blue-buttoned one.

It’s simple, really, but the meaning behind it is so intricate and heartrending that Taeyeon whimpers, to Tiffany’s surprise. Taeyeon’s tears are threatening to overflow, and she wants to hug Tiffany, but she can’t, so she looks into Tiffany’s eyes with enough tenderness to leave her breathless.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and her voice is thick with all the emotions she can’t convey.

Tiffany smiles, as beautifully as she always does, with her eyes disappearing into glistening crescents, but this time, they’re glistening with tears. Taeyeon smiles frailly in return, and even though it’s a lot less radiant than Tiffany’s, it’s just as melancholic, and just as appealing in its own way; Tiffany wants to remember it forever.

 “Merry Christmas, Taeyeon.”

Taeyeon’s mouth goes dry.

It’s anything but merry, but she knows this is the last time she’ll ever be hearing it from Tiffany, and maybe that’s why she can’t stop herself from saying it back.

“Merry Christmas, Miyoung.”

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

               Taeyeon is staring at the gingerbread cookie.

               She doesn’t really know what to do with it.

               There’s no way in hell she’d eat it, but at the same time, she knows that she can’t treasure it forever, since a moldy cookie wouldn’t be a very accurate reminder of her time with Tiffany. Not that she would ever forget, she just doesn’t want her memory to be tarnished. She sighs acrimoniously.

               Taeyeon’s numb right now.

               She isn’t feeling the slightest bit better, but the anguish has condensed into a dull ache. It’s still there, but it’s sort of distant, like Taeyeon knows it’s hurting her but she just can’t feel it.

Yet.

 It’s like being in a dream, and Taeyeon is dazed, because it feels like she’s going to see Tiffany’s animated smile waiting for her with a warm cup of caramel macchiato the next day, but she knows that’s not going to happen.

               It hasn’t happened for the last three days.

               Taeyeon doesn’t remember when, or how, she became so disorientated, but she doesn’t remember anything, at all, really. She’s been moving around lifelessly in a haze, going through all the activities of her daily routine like a zombie –minus one.

The one that meant the most to her.

               And every day, it’s the same thing. Taeyeon walks into the apartment and expects to see Tiffany watching TV before glancing up like an excited puppy at her arrival, bounding to her, whining about how hungry she is. But that doesn’t happen.

               She’s met with the gingerbread cookie every time, and every time, a little bit more of whatever’s left of her dies.

               This time, it’s a Saturday, so she’s been staring drearily at the cookie since she woke up. It’s positioned on an ornate porcelain plate in the middle of the coffee table in the living room, making the perfect centerpiece, but to Taeyeon, it’s just the perfect reminder of how raw the incision in her heart is.

               All of her old wounds have reopened, and the edges of the void in her heart flare excruciatingly when the additional anguish of her new wound assail. Her eyes start to water, but she blinks back the tears, refusing to let them fall.

It’s the first time she’s been able to cry since Tiffany left, probably because it’s the first time she’s actually used her brain since Tiffany left.

               “Stupid cookie,” Taeyeon snarls hoarsely, glowering at it as though doing that will make Tiffany reappear.

               Her eyes eventually land on the heart –the one that the Tiffany cookie, as she dubbed the pink-buttoned gingerbread-woman, was giving the Taeyeon cookie (the blue-buttoned gingerbread-woman) –and they narrow. Taeyeon trudges to the kitchen to grab a knife, and she does the one thing that seems appropriate.

               The one thing that describes their current situation precisely.

               She slices the heart in half in one clean, supple motion.

And it should feel good, in a masochistic way, relieving, at least. But it does nothing, and only fills Taeyeon with more remorse. She stares at the fragmented heart before her eyes avert to the now individual cookies.

               At least I can accurately call them Taeyeon and Tiffany, now.

               With trembling hands, she reaches out to pull the cookies apart, separating them farther, but to her astonishment, something falls out of the broken heart.

               Taeyeon blinks several times, making sure she wasn’t hallucinating, before dropping to her knees and hunting for it. Just when she’s about to give up, the fluorescent light in the living room catches on something a few inches from her searching hand.

               Taeyeon’s nails dig into the carpet as she snatches it aggressively, and when she stands up and brings the object into view, her heart is ready to collapse.

               It’s a necklace –an unpretentious one, made of a sterling silver chain. Taeyeon’s fingers follow the chain down to the pendant, which happens to be a white-gold key. Unlike the rest of the necklace, it’s elaborate and elegant, devised with impeccable detail; the handle is in the shape of what resembles a butterfly, which melds into a smooth shaft, sealed by a ring of miniscule amethysts. The tip of the key is what’s eccentric, though. Unlike most keys, it parts into two, forming ninety-degree angles at the fork, as if it’s supposed to be inserted into the gaps of a ‘T’ –it doesn’t look like it’s actually capable of opening anything.

               But Taeyeon’s seen the opening of the corresponding padlock enough times to know what the key opens.

               “Thank you,” Taeyeon whispers.

All of the numbness is gone in an instant –the fresh pain is abrupt and flagrant, engulfing her until she’s entirely consumed by it. Her heart is bleeding profusely, and it won’t stop, so she falls to her knees, unable to bear the weight of it any longer.

Taeyeon brings her quivering hand up and presses the pendant to her lips. She closes her eyes, letting the tears she’s been fighting since Tiffany left finally fall. “Thank you.”

In all the time that they had been together, Taeyeon had never said it back to Tiffany.