A/N: A sequel to Turn Off the Light, although now I'm thinking maybe I should switch the titles.

THIS IS REALLY DEPRESSING. Probably one of the angstiest fics I've ever written and definitely so for JeTi. (You & I is serious competition but I've only posted the ~happy~ part so far so.) You've been warned. Also, I wrote this when my brain had started falling asleep so there are probably typos. I just wanted to post this before I go to sleep because I know I'll regret it in the morning and if I leave it til tomorrow then I won't post it.

Tiffany picks up the stuffed bear Jessica had given her for an anniversary, staring at the heart on its chest, where it says “You’re the Only One for Me.” She stares at it for so long that her eyes start to burn and she tells herself that it’s only because she hasn’t blinked in too long. She can’t make the same excuse for the burn in her chest, where the same words are branded. However, she knows that she can’t say the same for Jessica.

Tiffany isn’t stupid, she hasn’t missed the furtive way Jessica checks her phone, the foreign scents that cling to her clothes, the marks on her body that can’t be explained away. Or scratch that, maybe she is stupid. She isn’t blind or deaf or ignorant, but she has never confronted Jessica about this, never asked her if there’s more than business that keeps her away so late and so often, never called her office to check in on her when she’s “working late.”

There’s a part of Tiffany that wishes if she pretends everything is okay, then it really will be. If she says nothing to Jessica about her affair – affairs? – then she’s not really having one. If Jessica still comes home to her at night, even if it’s closer to dawn than dusk, then Jessica is still hers. If she loves Jessica (she does) and Jessica loves her (does she), they’ll be okay.

Tiffany has always been a bad liar, but she’s always been good at lying to herself.

The microwave tells her that it’s 11:11. Tiffany’s eyes swim with digits and her mind swims with memories. Jessica buying boxes of Pepero, most of them strawberry because that’s Tiffany’s favourite, and insisting that they play the Pepero game with them. Jessica dipping a stick of Pepero in Nutella and playfully dabbing Tiffany’s nose with it only to it off seconds later. Jessica insisting on having “swordfights” with her until they went through a whole box of Pepero sticks and had aching sides from laughing.

Jessica, Jessica, Jessica. They say out of sight, out of mind, but that has never applied to Tiffany when it comes to Jessica. She’s the only thing on Tiffany’s mind and the only thing in her heart. She’s been Tiffany’s only for so long and Tiffany thought that she would be her always.

Even though now is a time for wishes, the only one that Tiffany has is something she finds too distant to even wish for.

She finds one last box of Pepero in the cupboard. Strawberry. Unopened. Expired. Her hand tightens around the package, crumpling it until it almost bursts. She hovers over the garbage can with her fingers around the pink box, but in the end she returns it to the cupboard and tucks it away at the very back.

Tiffany puts the bear into her suitcase, and then she takes it out, and then she puts it back in. It’s a ridiculous cycle that she’s been repeating for the past fifteen minutes. The bear isn’t the only thing that she’s been doing it with. There was also a framed photograph of Jessica and her with ear-splitting smiles and their arms around each other’s shoulders, back when they were uncomplicatedly happy, unreservedly in love. Back when Tiffany looked into Jessica’s eyes and saw the promise they had sung to each other reflected in them.

With a heavy sigh, Tiffany places the picture frame face down under a blue shirt. She suddenly realizes that the shirt doesn’t belong to her but Jessica. There are some articles of clothing that they share so often that it’s hard to remember who it actually belongs to. Tiffany isn’t a person who likes sharing, but she doesn’t mind sharing her things with Jessica. In fact, she likes seeing Jessica wearing her clothes, likes the idea of Jessica in something that’s hers, likes the idea of Jessica being hers.

But Jessica isn’t hers anymore. She hasn’t been Tiffany’s in a very long time. Not solely, not completely, not truly. Not only.

Robotically, Tiffany fishes the blue top out and lays it flat on the bed. It’s a very nice top; she’s worn it many times and she’s very fond of it. However, when she sees it, all she can see is Jessica in it, but she doesn’t see Jessica with her.

The picture frame stays in her suitcase, and the blue shirt does not. Tiffany continues packing, continues making a pile of what’s hers vs. what’s Jessica’s, even though she doesn’t know how to divide between the two, even though she herself belongs to Jessica.

She had started packing so many times before, but she could never bear to finish. She couldn’t bear to pack up the remnants of the life they had built together, even if it was only built on the ghosts of memories and the ashes of wishes.

Compared to the previous days, she’s making good progress. It should be something positive, but with every item she packs, she feels an urge to put them all back, to stitch the wool she’s been pulling over her eyes until she couldn’t see the seams anymore, to act like Jessica and pretend everything is okay even as it’s all falling apart around them.

It’s then that she sees the scarf. The red one that Yuri had made for Tiffany when she was learning how to knit. Yuri had made them all something; Yoona had gotten socks, Jessica mittens and Tiffany this scarf.

She remembers Jessica tying this scarf around her neck, doing it so clumsily that she had almost strangled Tiffany. She remembers Jessica shyly confessing the fantasy of being tugged by her scarf into a kiss and being eager to help her fulfil it, to give her anything she wanted. She remembers… She remembers.

The scarf slips through her fingers and lands on the bed in a splash of red, like a pool of blood, like a scarlet A. Tiffany picks it up, winds the yarn through her fingers. It’s still as soft and warm as she remembers, even though it’s been years since Yuri gave it to her. It’s funny how some things stay the same even as others change so much they become unrecognizable.

Packing simultaneously feels like it takes a lifetime and no time at all. In the end, she had barely packed anything, leaving most of her belongings in the apartment where she had smiled the brightest and cried the hardest, where she had lived and loved and laughed. She takes a suitcase and a duffel bag with her, leaving the rest of her things, the rest of herself, here.

She remembers to turn off all the lights before she goes, but she leaves one last one on, so Jessica will have something to come home to.

(Tiffany writes a note and leaves it on the bear, lying open and gaping over its chest, covering the words there with ones that bled out of her.

You’re still the only one for me, but I know that I’m not the only one for you, I’ll never be the only one for you. Is it too much to ask for that I want my only?)

A/N: You can find an incomplete sequel here.