Work Text:
Glass shatters against the cold, tiled kitchen floor. It wasn’t the first time Jungeun disappointed her, but apparently it would be the last.
"I think we should break up.”
She’s heard that line before, felt these feelings before, but this was different. This had a sense of finality she’s never experienced with Jungeun. It was like the last page had finally turned; like the final whistle had officially blown.
Jinsol was never one to dwell, but for the sake of her sad, pathetic heart, she figures now is as good a time as any to break the habit.
__
The procedure is minimally invasive. 30 minutes to an hour, according to the doctor. It’s risky, sure, the brain specialist graduated from a medical school she had never heard of and it seems even Google is clueless, but it’s the last shot she has.
Memory Augmentation and General Imaginatory Correction
MAGIC, they called it. A year ago, Jinsol would call it bullshit and a disgrace to modern medicine. But only 365 days and some change later, Jinsol waits to be called into her consultation.
__
“Would you ever get it?”
“Get what?”
“The MAGIC procedure.” Jinsol finally peers over her newspaper, she forgets when she started reading these. The black and white on the page seem safe, true.
Jungeun looks just as content, scrolling on her phone where she probably saw the advertisement for that voodoo medicine.
“Of course not,” the light from Jungeun’s phone illuminates her face, and the hot coffee she refuses to drink, but requests every morning sits steaming silently in front of her. She’s beautiful.
“That would mean I would want to forget you and I could never do that.”
__
It’s hard to pinpoint where it all went wrong. Maybe they were paths that crossed or maybe they were parallel roads leading to a polarizing divergence. All Jinsol knows is that they aren’t and have never been heading in the same direction.
The consultation is hard. Talking about Jungeun is hard. Thinking about Jungeun is hard. Every day, stewing in her own thoughts has been hard.
But Jinsol supposes that’s the point of it all.
__
“Do you believe in soulmates?”
“I believe in you.”
“That was cheesy, Jungeun.” Jinsol lets out a laugh.
It’s like many of their other nights, laying on the roof, the scrapes from scaling the walls sting, but the bite of the cold numbs the pain.
“I don’t know if I believe in someone being like, I don’t know, fated to someone,” Jinsol watches Jungeun tear her gaze from the constellations. “But I know that I love you. I think that’s enough.”
__
Jungeun may have left, but that bitter taste on her tongue, the one that showed up as Jungeun walked out the door, hasn’t.
The doctor offers Jinsol a cup of tea. It smells like nothing, but it tastes bitter. Everything does.
Jinsol asks if she’ll come to her senses and if her senses will come back to her. It’s like she sees in black and white.
__
“Can you put that damn newspaper down and look at me?”
They’ve been fighting for what seems like ages now. About everything and about nothing. There’s no end.
“I thought the conversation was done.” Jinsol turns to the next page.
She’s fallen into false indifference. The mask on her face threatens to break with each passing day, but if she treats this fight, along with every other fight, as if it were nothing, maybe it will be nothing. Maybe they’ll get past this rough patch.
__
The tea stopped steaming a couple of minutes ago. The doctor said something about the risks and all the details she’s sure are on the forms she has to sign later tonight.
She can’t wait anymore. She can’t wait for things to get better or for her to forget to remember Jungeun.
__
“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.”
It’s not the first time this has happened. Jinsol hardly thinks it’ll be the last, but she loves her. That has to be reason enough to stay.
“This isn’t the first time, Jungeun.”
Another date night, candle wax stuck to the table, food that stopped steaming an hour and a half ago.
“I know, but it won’t happen again. I promise.”
__
The doctor promises that the procedure will be painless. That they’ve had a 98% success rate. Jinsol doesn’t ask about the 2%.
__
“I love you so much, Jinsol. I’m so lucky to have you. You’re like 1 in a million to me. No-” Jungeun hiccups. Looks like she’s had too much to drink. New Years Eve has always been the night preceding a hangover for her.
“You know what you are, Sol?”
Jinsol laughs, “what am I?”
“You’re 1 in 7.8 billion”
__
Jinsol barely takes a second glance at the paperwork. She knows what will happen to her and that’s all that matters.
A part of her thinks she’s signing away her life. Maybe she is.
She does it anyway.
__
“We just got a house…” Jinsol stares at Jungeun’s face, contract in hand. “Jungeun we just bought a house!”
Jinsol laughs, she’s never been so happy in her life, and judging by the beaming smile on Jungeun’s face, she’s just as happy.
“I love you”
__
Her bed feels cold. It’s been a while since she’s slept in it, but the rules specifically stated she would have to be in a bed, asleep, for the procedure to work.
Home procedures seem like they’re out of the 1800s, but Jinsol doesn’t question it.
She gets into bed and thinks about Jungeun, knowing when she wakes up, she never will again.
__
“Are you gonna love me when I’m all old and wrinkly?” Jungeun asks and Jinsol laughs a little. Jungeun on her period is always a rollercoaster.
“I’ll love you until forever. You could be all shriveled and I’ll love you just like I love you now.” Jungeun cuddles closer into Jinsol, taking comfort in the warmth of her bed and the warmth of Jinsol’s arms.
They both wish for forever to never come.
__
“You’re home early. Not going out tonight?” Jinsol knows there’s a bite to her voice, but for the better part of 5 months, Jungeun has strolled in, well past 3 am.
“I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” Jungeun barely looks at her. Jinsol can’t remember the last time she actually did.
“I’m surprised you can even be tired at this hour.”
“I told you, I’m not in the mood, Jinsol.”
Jinsol scoffs, “yeah you never are, are you?” She knows she’s picking a fight, but she just misses hearing Jungeun’s voice. It’s like this is the only way they can communicate now.
Jungeun turns on her heel, “I’m not in the mood to be yelled at by you, or chastised, or judged by you. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Then stop doing things that disappoint me!” Jinsol knows it’s a touchy subject. Years of being called a disappointment as a child scarred Jungeun, but Jinsol lost her filter the moment Jungeun decided to let her and this relationship go down the drain.
“You’re unbelievable.” Jungeun goes up to the bedroom, the one she has so graciously taken over. It’s only then that Jinsol feels bad. She misses the way things were.
She goes to bed on the couch again.
When morning comes, the house is quiet, it’s so eerily peaceful that Jinsol can’t help but feel uneasy. She figures a cold glass of water will break her out of this strange feeling.
She reaches up into the cupboard and retrieves her glass. She stays like that for a little while, standing against the counter, admiring the way the sun beams through the windows.
She hears Jungeun softly padding down the stairs, the third to bottom one creaking just a bit.
“I think we should break up.”
Glass shatters against the cold, tiled kitchen floor. Jinsol can’t hear anything else. Can’t bear to look at Jungeun, can’t piece together the sounds coming from her general vicinity.
__
When morning comes, Jinsol feels refreshed. She had a dream about some girl, but she assumes it’s just someone she thought was cute in passing. The brain can’t create random faces.
With a big stretch, Jinsol looks around and admires the way the sun beams through her curtains, but she feels like she may be forgetting something with this itching feeling in the back of her head.
Her phone pings, she must have forgotten to turn it on silent.
It’s from an unknown number, but Jinsol feels an urge to check it anyways.
“Jinsol, I’ve been thinking a lot lately. Remember when you asked if I believed in soulmates? Well these past few weeks, I think I have a concrete answer. I believe in them. I believe in them just as much as I believe in you and us. You are my soulmate. I know I’ve been horrible to you, but you are my 1 in 7.8 billion. If you’ll have me, I’d like for us to maybe get a cup of coffee sometime. I love you. I’m sorry.”
Jinsol takes a second to think, images, broken memories, flashing through her brain.
“Jungeun?”