Wendy was naturally surrounded and used to intricate things. With this, she became very good at adaptation when it was an object – like earrings, crafting fingertips that had never felt so stubby around a butterfly clip, digging nails into their miniscule sides in order to shove onto the end of your earrings unless fall onto the floor (whereby they might as well been swallowed by satanic pits of lava and cease to return). If a person had a side to them she couldn’t grasp, she would dote on them, tiptoe around them until she had settled into that side.

Seulgi indeed gave the air of an open book, which was confusing in itself since Wendy felt like she could see something beneath, like her constant smile was a very human mask. She was an easily relatable and knowable thing while also such an intricate thing. Wendy couldn’t crack her.

She dreams of her.

“We should go to shopping.” Wendy had announced to Seulgi out of nowhere one day when they had met in the store cupboard to find some aprons. The slightly older girl’s hands broke into a subtle yet instant sweat as her fingers fiddles across the ties of her apron, making the deed more difficult than it needed to be. Wendy took no notice of this and more just gazed widely ahead of her, analysing instead a nip of pastel blue paint over the top of Seulgi’s adorably pointed left ear. It would be cute to let her stay oblivious to it, she thought.
“Why?” said Seulgi, brows slightly furrowed as her tone came out more curious and foggy.
The lively girl smiled, “I don’t know, I work best in surroundings. Old ladies nagging at street sellers, fleeting children, random arrogant echoes of half-pieced conversations from around the corner – that kind of thing builds well, for some reason.” Each word came accompanied by its own strangely excited tone, and it triggered a little smile to creep at the corners of Seulgi’s lips. Wendy continued forth, not minding at all that she was rambling, also being reassured by Seulgi’s warmth that she didn’t mind either. “I like being around fabrics and art supplies too; we could go to some craft and textiles shops. I’ll see what your interests are in contrast to mine and we can mould some project ideas together, don’t you think that’d be good?”

Seulgi giggled in a way she so easily did. She would always agree to things like this even they were honestly aside her wants since that was a fundamental part of her nature, to always seem receptive and positive amongst real troubles and anguish – but especially now, she was wholly genuine. “That’d be great.” She nodded, breaking into an overtaking smile that could be followed in the dark.

In a few days, she had already learnt many things on the basis of what Son Seungwan liked and what she preferred to be around. She led herself in a way that always filled a silence, or outdid the other less willing to speak, and Seulgi really had no issues with that. Even though Seulgi was a person for people and one to be talkative too, something about Wendy’s endearing behaviour made her want to do nothing but listen. She was specific.

--

“You really like ink work, right?” the taller girl had asked, again analysing Wendy’s inky blue fingertips, once they had been standing within Artycrafts for a good ten minutes. It was the first thing that had been said – their tongues went dry and trail of thought blank once the homely smell of acrylic and easel wood immersed their every surrounding. Like a fleeting salmon each of them flailed to their own area of expertise, even automatically. It was such a warm and fulfilling silence.

“Me?” Wendy jolted her eyelids abruptly as if she’d only then awoken from a daze.

“Yes,” Seulgi laughed, and Wendy really liked this laugh – it was the kind of laugh that made you laugh. “Who else?”

Wendy scrunched her eyes up, her smile keenly adapted and fresh. She twiddled two fine, beige tinted pens between her toned fingers, speaking with eyes darting and glinting straight ahead. “Ink work is something I do well. That and pencil sketches were what made me realise how much I liked arty things; when I was younger, we only worked with poster paints and I was absolutely awful. Could never paint. I assumed that made me a terrible artist.”

Kang Seulgi very much enjoyed the way Wendy mapped out all of her stories. Singly by her mannerisms it felt like she could imagine the bow in child Wendy’s hair.

Seungwan huskily chuckled, turning towards her, “But look what I’m doing. Albeit, I am going through a bit of a patch.”

Seulgi sighed in a way which she could simply relate, chiming, “Artist’s block?”      

With the meeting of a sharp eye, Seungwan sensed a throbbing, uncomfortable warmth in her stomach. “Something like that.” She replied – her eyes glinting with the flickering of a muse.

It was desperately terrifying, and she knew herself that her face felt something before her mind did. So before Seulgi could notice her discomfort she blurted out, “You look just like that bear.” Pointing at the textiles shelf.

“Haha, really?” Whew, the knots in Wendy’s stomach untangled a few churning, coarse loops. Seulgi was very kindly responsive. “I think it’s because of the way I smile. I’ve actually been called bear-like before.”

“Really?” stuttered Wendy, following the girl expectedly gravitating towards the herd of fabric animals, all lined well and interestingly coloured.

“Mm.” Seulgi hummed, smirking, then rotating with a leaf green lion balancing on her palm. With the swift action tumbled a tousled hair from the bear-like girl’s bun; Wendy, panic rising like a venemous wave in her chest once more, thought she was a bit too perceptive of things like this. “This looks like my roommate.” Laughed Seulgi.

“Your roommate’s like a lion?”

“Hip hop baby lion, he calls himself.” The girl overlapped Wendy with her laughter, as if she had been accepted into the joke. “Idiot.”

This was a very quickly comfortable side, and it was instantly very interesting to Wendy. She pointed at the lion’s cotton, leafy mane, smiling, “My friend Sooyoung loves the colour green.”

Seulgi grasped another green lion from its lethargic state on the shelf, gesturing for the other to take it. “What’s your favourite colour?” She searched around the slightly younger girl’s garments subconsciously, as if an answer lay there.

“Amber. A tangerine kind of colour.” Wendy replied, and Seulgi noticed she was indeed wearing tawny earrings to suit her statement. The smaller chuckled again, “And I know your favourite colour is blue – I think anyone who ever met you would get that.”

Kang Seulgi blushed, nodding. “Or black – I like wearing black clothes.” Eyes shining, teeth shining.
“Everyone likes wearing black clothes.”
“That is true!” Seulgi raised her fingers in declaration. Her fingers still tinted light yellow from painting colour into those butterflies. “That is true.”

Green was the pleasant mixture of warming amber and fundamental blue, and the two decided to purchase these leaf green lions. As if tradition, they needed not forget to pause by a nearby bakery for scarlet chocolate cakes, while the sky melted into violet.

--

In her youthful playground days, Seulgi had always been herded into the games she didn’t want to play. The young girls always wanted to play High School, or Goldilocks, or anything romantic that could result in someone getting dramatically into a pretend vortex while uttering strained American English; yet what flashed absent in every one was someone to characterise a male. This was because of boys not being allowed to play drama games, and young, sheltered girls only wanting to fulfil their role as theatrical heroines. Little Kang Seulgi cared less.

Those high socked children had seen Seulgi’s preference of Pokémon over Barbies and tracksuit bottoms over dresses, swallowing her into this male role she never wished to be with an “Action!” and a giggle. If she had to she would want to play a girl too, she just felt uncomfortable sinking into melodrama and blossoming girlishness – little girls were allowed to be tomboys, but playground companions heard the last syllable and ran with it.

What she hated most about acting as a guy was every playground girl conjured up this image of romance. Playing along made her feel deadly uncomfortable, skin flushed pink while she suppressed questions she really did not wish to have at such a young age.

--

While Son Seungwan had a fondness for bustle and smells, Kang Seulgi had a fondness for evenings. Every thought flushes into you with much more vibrancy yet delicacy in the gloomy times of night, so Seulgi took advantage of this – she had ever since workloads piled mercilessly and the subject of art took a more definite fancy. Still, what defeated the object of working best in art studios late at night was Seulgi deep, everlasting fondness of sleep. She and sleep were the most true love story; they went together as evenly as breezed, rippling waves. However, Wendy looked as if she could pass a whole day through carrying the most alive smile with edging on less than an hour’s sleep. Seulgi really could not last – but of course, she’d never admit that.

“Wow, you can really do everything.” Wendy spoke eagerly over Seulgi’s shoulder, with her chestnut hair relentlessly brushing over the taller’s arm as she enthusiastically watched her draw. Seulgi was mimicking Wendy’s way of over the page in charcoal, and though it was not near her new companion’s level of expertise in that area of art, she definitely did it well. Instantly and well.

“Thanks,” smiled Seulgi. She attempted to control her arm shuddering each time Wendy would adjust her head and her hair would flow across her skin again. Seulgi had no idea whether she was more bitter about Wendy having no idea what she was doing, or that something was happening to Seulgi at all. “But the pitfall of being able to do everything is not having one thing I’m really, really good at.”

Her face must’ve fallen when she heard Wendy snort right aside her ear. “Please.”

And Seulgi still faced upwards and analysed her, truly having no idea what Wendy’s meaning was.

Wendy snapped into her dreary, a tad sleep deprived gaze, and softened. “Do you really want me to list everything you’re really, really good at? We’ve only been friends for a week or so but I know a great ton of your talents.”

Something stung inside of the bear-like girl, though it was a welcomed sting. “Oh, thank you.” Came the muttered reply through red-dusted cheeks.

--

A week longer of muse pinpointing, gross tea drinking and phone calls from home sped across Wendy as quickly as an arrow, and here she was in the same late night studio situation with (slightly more known though just as endearing) Seulgi again.

“Strangely, I’m bored.” Seulgi whined. Smiling.

“Go and ogle at the colour blue, or something.”

Soon enough, Wendy felt an anticipated sponge hurtle into the back of her head. It did little but make her grin.

The slight older girl drawled again, “But y’know Seungwan, we look pretty boring for art students.” She rattled with something in the opposite corner, the sounds emitted light and lacking caution.

“You think so?” said Wendy, turning, face so beautiful that the other had to blink. Seulgi laughed her Seulgi-laugh, nodding sleepily, probably unaware of how adorable she looked with sharp eyelids hanging so heavy. “Thinking about it, we are pretty absent of ridiculous clothing and daring haircuts.” Wendy spoke, rotating her petite body and ducking her head as she threaded through a few paper cabinets.

Seulgi stayed silent for a little while, and ignoring a small shuffle of feet here and there, Wendy jumped to the conclusion that she could have possibly fallen asleep. But as she turned back, the girl met her with a polished smile, two familiar plastic dye bottles in her grip. “Here’s a crazy idea.”

Seulgi held frothy fingers in the mass of Wendy’s hair, carefully massaging stains of baby blue into the end. Her hair still lay damp over her shoulders, and she now owned a new bleach stain on the knee of her jeans, cocoa coloured hair dipped in sunset yellow. Dying hair, experimenting. Staining hands with each other’s favourite colours – staining, Wendy wanted to consume this feeling.

“Put your head under the tap.” Seulgi said softly, just loud enough for attentive Wendy to hear. And Wendy did – kind of did, eventually did, moving a little bit too quickly for drowsy Seulgi and hitting her scalp on the side of the sink.

As the water began to run and Seulgi apologised for nothing, frolicking, Wendy laughed in an adorably maniacal way amongst the splashes of liquid over her hair. Her voice bellowed against the inner metal of the sink; you could hear the giant load she was grinning. “Is this friendship or what?”

Seulgi's new most favoruite form of blue drained diluted into the drain.

--

“This is different.”

Seunghoon waited for the sting of black coffee to merge into his taste buds before looking properly at Seulgi. She stared longingly at her easel of sudden ambers and tangerines, printed randomly with butterflies and flicking tufts of velvet red. She stared curiously at her ‘almost, kind-of’ brother.

“It’s strange-” he spoke with concern, but faced her with crescented and unstiffened eyes, “you used to have such depressing work and such a cheery demeanour.” Seulgi felt deflated. She felt deflated ever since her ears drifted onto Son Seungwan’s chirps and Oh God, perhaps it really was happening again. That drift of passion – connected deeply to her core with memories harshly regretted.
The stumbled trail of thought was followed by Seunghoon’s continued speech, as if he was thickly in tune with the way her mind worked. And he probably was. “But it seems both characteristics have swapped places.”

A/N: Chapter done!! It's been over a month lol, I am sheer human manifestation of a snail. I'm so sorry. I've been so busy and never felt the urge to write, but reading through I knew I really needed to again. This chapter was really dialogue based but I hope that's alright - don't hesitate to tell me what you think if you wish to :) <3
Also, I'm torn between fonts haha. Can't decide between Arial or Bookman.