Seulgi meets Wendy the same day she fails out of art school.

She’s drowning in self-pity, worthlessness and inadequacy filling her so that everything else feels empty. Her eyes burn from all the tears she shed and her body feels heavy from more than just exhaustion. She’s not sure how she’s going to tell her parents, can already imagine the knowing looks and pats of sympathy. Seulgi was chasing a hopeless dream from the start and everyone knew except for her.

She almost trips on a box, just barely catching herself with her other foot. She looks back at the offending object, but finds even more littered about the hallway in varying shapes and sizes. A moment of curiosity stops her and it’s enough time for the owner to come barreling up the stairs, all smiles and bumbling energy.

She fusses about momentarily, trying to manage holding a box in her arms as she bows first in greeting and then again in apology. Seulgi doesn’t catch most of what she says—she’s too fast and her sentences are just awkward enough for Seulgi to decide her Korean isn’t as fluent as it should be—but she does pick up a name and the fact that she’s moving in next door.

“Wendy.” She bows again. “I just moved back from Canada!”

Seulgi nods, attempts a smile, and does her best to match her enthusiasm when she says her own awkward greeting.

“Seulgi,” she introduces, trying to seem more pleasant than she’s feeling. It’s not Wendy’s fault her life is a mess at the moment. “I live next door.”

“Seulgi,” Wendy repeats, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s nice to meet you!”

Seulgi offers to help her with the rest of her things—out of polite kindness more than anything—but Wendy insists she’s fine on her own, already halfway down the stairs when she calls out a hearty goodbye. Seulgi’s thankful for it, mind still clouded by the knowledge that she’ll have no classes to attend tomorrow for her to be of any real assistance.

She walks into her apartment, grunting in response when Sooyoung asks about her day (she’s known Sooyoung too long for her to try and fake cheerfulness), and enters her room feeling more disheartened and insignificant than before.  

Somewhere between the noise of Wendy shuffling in and out of the apartment next door and Sooyoung cooking up something hazardous in the kitchen, Seulgi drifts into a restless sleep. She doesn’t dream of anything in particular, but when she wakes up, mind hazy and vision blurry, to the unmistakable sound of singing muffled through her bedroom wall, Seulgi thinks she might be. It takes her a while to put together that it’s Wendy’s voice she’s hearing and when she does, Seulgi doesn’t know what to think.

It’s a nice song—something in English she’s never heard before—but she finds she likes it anyways. Or maybe she just likes Wendy’s voice, she doesn’t know.

Seulgi debates stopping it with a bang against the wall, but it really is nice and she’s too tired to care anyways. She breathes in deeply, moves nearer to the wall, and closes her eyes to the sound of a soft voice coupled with an even softer guitar.

Seulgi dreams of an angel that night, but she also dreams of Wendy, singing to her as she sits on top of a throne of boxes.

She’s not sure what that’s supposed to mean.

--

Wendy sings again the next night.

And the night after.

And the night after that.

It happens every night and Seulgi’s come to expect it—anticipates it almost. Sometimes it’s happy, other times it’s not, and Seulgi listens every time because admittedly she hasn’t slept this well since she was in high school and her mother still wished her sweet dreams.

She’s not sure what that’s supposed to mean either.

--

Seulgi sees Wendy sporadically the next few weeks, mostly just in passing but once by the coffee shop down the street.

She’s holding a black case in her arms, far too small to be a guitar but too thin to be a violin.

“A flute,” Wendy tells her, gazing down at it fondly. “I’m part of an orchestra.”

Seulgi wonders what else she can play, but she doesn’t ask, doesn’t mention that she knows Wendy can sing, or that she listens to her every night and falls asleep pretending that it’s meant for her.

Instead she grins and says that she’d love to hear Wendy play (preferably not through the thin wall that separates their rooms, not that Wendy knows). Wendy agrees all too willingly but with just enough trepidation for it to pass as humble. She’s proud but she isn’t boastful. Seulgi likes that.

They part with an exchange of numbers and the promise to meet again soon. Seulgi watches her walk away, body awfully small in a crowd that seems to swallow her whole. She wonders what it would be like to hold her, but lets the thought go before it can settle.

Later that night when Seulgi’s lying motionless on her bed, mulling over all the applications she submitted today—two for other art schools and three for random jobs she doesn’t like but needs—she hears Wendy’s voice filter in through the wall.

An upbeat song, one Seulgi’s heard Wendy hum before when she was coming back from class and Seulgi had clumsily dropped her keys right in front of her. Wendy had been so happy then, handing Seulgi her keys back with a tease and a laugh. The song and the memory it brings washes away the anxiety Seulgi was feeling, replacing it instead with a peaceful calm.

She presses her back to the wall, imagines that it’s her Wendy’s singing for, and falls asleep with a smile and the burning desire to hear Wendy in person.

---

On a rainy day a week later, Seulgi looks at her paintings for the first time since she left school.

She’d brought them out with the intention of trying to start again, but as she flips through them one by one and sees all the art she once thought was good, all she can think of is her instructor’s words, telling her over and over again that they aren’t.

She isn’t good enough.

Seulgi wonders if she ever will be.

“Don’t listen to them,” Joohyun tells her, voice distant from more than just the phone she speaks through. “You’re an amazing artist.”

Seulgi would have believed her once, but Joohyun doesn’t know the first thing about art, couldn’t tell Seulgi the difference between oil and acrylic. Seulgi doesn’t fault her for it, but it’s not what she needs right now. She needs someone who understands what it’s like to have your passion ripped from you and stepped on, only to be picked up again bruised and broken. Seulgi can’t even look at something she’s created these days without noticing everything that’s wrong with it.

“I know,” she lies, the words salt against . “Thanks, unnie.”

At night, Wendy’s song is slow and somber, beautiful in its quiet sadness. Seulgi feels a pull to it, drawing her closer to the wall. Wendy’s voice cracks and something in Seulgi stirs. She tucks her knees close to her chest and allows herself to wallow in hopelessness as Wendy sings her closer and closer to breaking point.

Wendy’s voice is shaky, hollow with an emptiness that Seulgi can relate to. Seulgi wonders what it is that’s made her like this, or if maybe this is how she’s always been and Seulgi’s just never noticed. After another missed note, Wendy stops completely and a frustrated yell takes its place. Seulgi imagines Wendy crying, but the picture is too painful for Seulgi to color and she erases it before it can become real.

She falls asleep that night to a deafening silence with only her tears to lull her and selfishly hopes that Wendy is crying with her, just so she isn’t alone.

--

They sit together one afternoon at the coffee shop down the street, nestled at a table near the window. It wasn’t planned, but Seulgi didn’t mind when she’d come in for coffee and found Wendy instead.

“I wanted to be a singer,” Wendy tells her, after Seulgi’s finished dumping all her troubles onto her. She’d come home earlier to a letter of rejection and Wendy was kind enough to ask how she was doing. She probably wasn’t expecting the sob story that she got, but she listened and that’s all Seulgi can ask for. “I tried to audition once, back in Canada, but I didn’t make it.”

“What happened?”

Outside the air is cold, but inside, with Wendy sitting opposite from her, Seulgi feels like she’s burning.

“They didn’t think I was good enough.” Wendy shrugs. She nods down towards the flute at her side. “I ended up going back to classical music instead.”

She doesn’t look unhappy as she speaks and Seulgi doesn’t understand how.

“What about singing? Wasn’t that your passion?”

Wendy laughs, lighthearted and free.

“It was, but not anymore.”

Seulgi knits her brows together, not sure she understands what Wendy is telling her. The idea of it all seems too foreign to be real.

“Then what about now?”

Wendy rests her cheek in her palm, looking at Seulgi with eyes that seem like they can see more than just what Seulgi’s showing her. They probably can.

“I just want to be happy.”

“Are you?”

Wendy smiles and it feels like Seulgi is finally seeing her. The final product of a picture Seulgi had only just done the outline of, but more vibrant and beautiful than she could have ever imagined.

“I’m getting there.”

--

In the week that follows, Seulgi runs into Wendy on three separate occasions, meets with her on two more, and listens to her sing after all of them.

During that week, Seulgi comes to the conclusion that she wants Wendy the same way she wants her dreams: desperately and with all her heart.

By the end of it all, Seulgi picks up an empty canvas and paints.

--

They settle into a routine of weekly—sometimes biweekly—hangouts.

Seulgi always asks her to sing and Wendy always asks her to paint, but the answer is never yes and eventually they stop bothering. Wendy still vows to convince her one day and Seulgi laughs, promising the same thing.

Seulgi won’t admit it, but all she’s waiting for is Wendy to say yes so she can too.

She doesn’t have to wait long.

--

Seulgi comes home to Sooyoung yelling obscenities in the kitchen and, more importantly, to Wendy sitting on their couch.

“I locked myself out.” She grins sheepishly and Seulgi feels the corners of her lips tug upward almost automatically.

“Our landlord is gone for the night,” Sooyoung announces, skipping into the living room with what looks like an attempt at some kind of pasta. “So I told Wendy unnie she could stay here.” Seulgi nods as Sooyoung passes Wendy the bowl of mush.

It’s obviously not edible, but Wendy looks like she’s going to eat it anyways. She’s too nice for her own good, Seulgi muses, as she takes the bowl from her, saving the girl from an inevitable trip to the hospital.

“We don’t really cook,” Seulgi admits, pulling her phone out to call the nearest pizza place as Sooyoung cheers and Wendy smiles (Seulgi has to turn away to keep herself from staring).

They watch a movie that Wendy recommends, eating until their stomachs hurt and drinking until their cheeks are flushed. Sooyoung excuses herself eventually because she has a paper due in the morning that she’s only just started (Seulgi doesn’t question how she’s going to write it when she can barely even walk straight—Sooyoung’s done more impressive things), and then it’s just the two of them, sitting on a couch Seulgi never uses.

“You play?”

There’s a guitar in the corner of the room that Seulgi hasn’t touched in years. It’s decoration more than anything, but that seems offensive to say to someone who does music for a living.

“I used to.”

Wendy picks it up, plucking each string carefully. It’s terribly out of tune, but Wendy doesn’t seem to mind.

“Do you play?” Seulgi asks. She already knows the answer, but if she lets the silence drag for too long Wendy will notice her staring and Seulgi isn’t finished admiring just yet.

“I used to.” Wendy smirks and Seulgi feels strangely like she’s been caught even when she hasn’t.

Wendy returns it to its stand before moving back to sit on the couch. Their fingers brush and Seulgi wonders if it’s the alcohol that’s making her head spin or if it’s the fact that Wendy’s sitting next to her and Seulgi could kiss her if she wanted to.

She really wants to.

“Sing for me?” Seulgi requests, turning her head to look at Wendy.

Her features are pretty and Seulgi thinks she’d make a nice painting. But she also thinks there aren’t any combination of colors that could accurately capture everything that Wendy already is so Seulgi just stares, hoping that she’ll never need a picture to remember what Wendy looks like.

“Do you really want me to?”

Seulgi nods, body humming in anticipation. She’s wanted to hear Wendy sing for so long and she’s not sure what will happen when her wish is finally granted.

Wendy smiles, moving closer. Her hands are warm, but her breath is warmer.

She really is pretty.

“Can I kiss you instead?” Wendy whispers, tracing the lines in Seulgi’s palm. Her gaze is heavy with want, but even still, she waits for Seulgi to move first. And Seulgi doesn’t hesitate, pulling Wendy in roughly with impatient hands.

Wendy’s never been anything but sweet in the time that Seulgi’s known her, but there’s nothing kind about the way she tugs Seulgi’s bottom lip with her teeth, tongue smoothing it over immediately.

She’s probably done this before, Seulgi thinks, before Wendy moves to her neck and any thoughts she has disappears, replaced instead with the insistent urge to feel all of what Wendy will give her.

Seulgi paints lines onto Wendy’s skin, fingers drawing circles on her back as she outlines Wendy’s body with her own. She brushes against her, smooth and steady, and sees nothing but color as Wendy sings into her ear, raw and beautiful and far better than Seulgi imagined.

She follows the curve of Wendy’s jaw with her finger, kissing her just below her ear as Wendy gazes up at her, breathing heavy and lips swollen. It’s an unforgettable image, and Seulgi believes that, for the first time, she’s finally created something that’s undeniably perfect.

She falls asleep to Wendy humming softly, hand strumming against Seulgi’s back.

---

“Fun night?” Sooyoung asks, after Wendy leaves with a kiss and the promise of a date later in the evening.

Seulgi doesn’t answer, but the dopey smile she has on her face says it all.

Sooyoung rolls her eyes, shoving her nose back into her textbook as she mumbles loudly.

“I’m glad I used headphones last night.”

Seulgi can only blush to Sooyoung’s roaring laughter.

--

She paints for Wendy the same day Wendy finally sings for her.

She doesn’t have to, but Seulgi appreciates the sentiment when, perched atop a throne of boxes, Wendy begins to sing as Seulgi colors her in hues of blue on her canvas.

The final product doesn’t do Wendy any justice, but Wendy still smiles and praises it like it’s the best thing she’s ever seen.

She rewards Seulgi with a searing kiss and Seulgi decides then that she’ll paint Wendy millions of pictures if it means keeping her like this.

(Wendy reminds her later, nose nuzzled into the crook of Seulgi’s neck, that she’d stay regardless.)

--

“I used to listen to you,” Seulgi tells Wendy eventually, when they’re pressed together on Wendy’s bed, legs tangled and breathing in sync. Seulgi lifts her hand to Wendy’s heart and imagines it’s her own that she’s feeling. “At night, I could hear you sing. It helped me sleep.”

Wendy presses her fingers into Seulgi’s back, chords for a song Seulgi’s never heard of, and drags her lips across Seulgi’s temple.

“So you already heard me sing a long time ago.”

Seulgi raises her head to meet Wendy’s eyes. “But that wasn’t for me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You didn’t even know me then,” Seulgi points out, but Wendy just laughs, pulling her back in for a lazy kiss.

Wendy flips them easily, pushing her body deeper into Seulgi’s as her lips trail Seulgi’s cheek all the way to her flushed ear.

She whispers hotly, “I didn’t have to.”

---

When Seulgi gets back into art school, they have a celebration consisting of only the two of them plus Sooyoung.

Sooyoung only makes it two bottles before she’s down for the count, laying herself down on the floor of the living room and never getting back up. Seulgi draws on her face with a marker as Wendy strums mindlessly on Seulgi’s guitar, now properly tuned and functioning.

“Are you happy?” Wendy asks seriously as Seulgi returns to her side, Sooyoung’s cheeks covered with various cartoon characters.

Seulgi looks at Wendy, thinks of all the songs Wendy’s sung and all the paintings she’s made recently, and knows without a doubt that she is.

“Are you?” she asks instead.

Wendy smiles at her and Seulgi mirrors it, still enamored with how softly Wendy always looks at her. Her heart flutters with Wendy’s answer.

“I am.”

--

Sooyoung formally kicks Seulgi out when Joohyun comes back from her year abroad, tired and in need of a place to stay.

She’s not the least bit sorry about it either (nor is Joohyun, who’s all too happy to steal Seulgi’s bed), but Seulgi doesn’t really mind. She’s spent more time at Wendy’s place the last few months than she has at her own and now she at least has a valid reason for stealing more space in Wendy’s closet.

Seulgi trips on one of the boxes on the short walk over, failing miserably at catching herself. She braces herself for the fall, but it never happens, Wendy grabbing her with a laugh and a smile.

“Trying to reenact the day we met?” she teases before piling another box on top of the one Seulgi’s already holding, pushing her into the apartment lightly.

Moving doesn’t take long with Seulgi’s lack of personal belongings, but Seulgi stills finds exhaustion creeping up onto her later that night. She curls up on Wendy’s bed—now her own—and watches as Wendy brings her guitar out with practiced ease.

The song is nice—an English song that’s familiar—and Seulgi hums along until her eyes begin to shut against her will and her mind fogs with tiredness.

She falls asleep that night (and all the nights after) to Wendy singing softly next to her, voice startlingly clear without the wall to muffle it.

Seulgi rests peacefully, content with the knowledge that it’s only for her.

It always will be.