Archive of Our Own ^beta

may

“Do you like working here?” 

Yuna asks the question and Chaeryeong can’t stop herself from snorting. She looks up from the blender manual she was reading to find Yuna staring at her with all the wide-eyed sincerity of someone who has never worked a day in their life. And she’s leaning a little bit too far into the kitchen side of the snack bar counter now, instead of with her butt planted on the stool like Chaeryeong had told her to. 

“Not really,” is what she settles on eventually, putting the manual away. It pretty much told her what she already knew, but it was better to be safe than sorry. She only brought one shirt today. “Sit down, you’re gonna get me in trouble.” 

Yuna sits but not without whining a little. Chaeryeong pointedly ignores her, pulling the strawberries, almond milk, and yogurt from the fridge. 

Smoothies are deceptively difficult to make, which is one of the many reasons Chaeryeong hardly ever picks up snack bar duties. The picky members are among the other reasons. But Ryujin texted her begging for Chaeryeong to cover her shift, using a liberal amount of emojis, stating that she had an urgent situation to attend to. Chaeryeong knows for a fact there is nothing urgent about making out in a closet with her girlfriend. 

Yuna found her about ten minutes ago, her face flushed pink from the sun and with a big smile on her lips, because she’s Yuna and she always finds Chaeryeong. 

“If you don’t like working here then why not find a new job or something?” Yuna sulks like this is something that actually bothers her. Her chin rests in the palm of her hand. “I mean you’d probably be miserable if you left me, but still. You should do what you like.” 

“Yuna,” she starts, suppressing a smile as she rinses off the fruit. She cuts up the strawberries and breaks a banana in half before putting them into the blender, adding the milk and yogurt as per the recipe. “What did I tell you about asking personal questions? It’s like you’re trying to get me fired.”  

She whines louder this time, making Chaeryeong laugh this time. “Unnie, humor me. Please. It’s so boring here.” 

Yuna says it like someone is forcing her to come here every day, but Chaeryeong won’t point that out. “All I do is humor you.” 

She’s leaning back over the counter again, blonde hair falling over the straps of her top. It’s white with a collage of cats on postage stamps all over it. Chaeryeong thinks Ryujin would like it and then scowls because fuck Ryujin. 

“Yeah, you do because you likeeee me,” she says the last part in English, her accent surprisingly Canadian, it nearly makes Chaeryeong flinch. There’s this stupid grin on her lips as she says it, sing-song, like she knows it’s just a waiting game with Chaeryeong, that eventually with time and enough whining, she’ll bend to her will as she has time and time again. 

Chaeryeong resents that. 

Yuna’s face falls comically when she starts the blender in lieu of answering. 

-

Obviously, the local country club wasn’t Chaeryeong’s first choice summer job. Or second or third. 

Not only is it far—an hour train ride on a good day—but it’s also overrun with some of the worst people she has ever had the displeasure of meeting. Not rich, no. Wealthy, which is infinitely worse in Chaeryeong’s opinion, because there’s this underlining pretentiousness and air of condescension that comes with having generations of status. The only reason she ended up applying was because Yeji heard the pay was well above minimum wage with tips and, well, tuition and rent sadly don’t pay for themselves. 

Her first summer had been, to put it lightly, hell—a frenzy of spilled drinks, hiding from rude members in the kitchen, and too loud and too sticky children. But reapplying had felt like the natural progression of things. It wasn’t so terrible that she felt the need to look for something new when she already had a sure thing. 

That was four summers ago. Things are different now. 

Now, she has a routine. She’s up by six-thirty every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and at seven on weekends. With breakfast in her stomach and caffeine in her system, she’s sitting in the second to last cart on the train no more than an hour later. She cleans the equipment if she’s working the courts, stocks the towels if she’s on poolhouse duty, and tries (but fails) to avoid Ryujin as much as possible. 

The people aren’t as bad as she thought they were, though there is a sizable rotten bunch, and her co-workers, funny and most around the same age as her, make the days better. When Ryujin somehow got hired too, working became kind of fun. 

But aside from that and the pay and the satisfying sense of routine it provides Chaeryeong, there are no real benefits to working at the club. There are only thirteen weeks in summer and she works eleven of them, holidays included, it’s still farther from home than she would like, and that sizable bunch of rotten members makes her cry from frustration more than she’d like to admit. If she’s being really honest, some days she really fucking hates her job.  

So, there are no real benefits, no. Except, well.

“Chaeryeong unnie, you’re here.” It doesn’t take long for Yuna to notice her hovering near the edge of the court, eyes snapping up from her phone, a smile slowly growing on her lips. Chaeryeong can’t help but return it. “I thought you were sick or something.” 

Chaeryeong raises an eyebrow at her as she approaches. She’s hardly ever sick, less so in the summer. “Of course, I’m here. I’m honestly surprised you’re here.” 

“Hey. You know I have a standing nine o’clock slot.” She’s pouting as she says it, scuffing her shoes on the ground.  

“A nine o’clock slot you’re always thirty minutes late for. You’re one lateness away from being blacklisted,” Chaeryeong snorts, checking the time on her phone. It’s 9:20 AM. A little early in comparison. “Why would you think that anyway?” 

“I asked your friend where you were and she said you were sick.” 

Chaeryeong wipes the sweat from her forehead and tries to recall ever saying that to anyone at the club. She’s almost certain she hasn’t. The confusion must be obvious because Yuna starts to list off what this friend looks like: short, seemingly not working, probably hungover. 

Right, well. “I said I was sick of her face. Don’t listen to Ryujin, she has selective hearing,” she murmurs, distracted by the tennis balls at her feet. 

It’s hotter than usual for late May. Had Jaemin been working today, he’d say something really morbid about the state of the planet, but thank God he isn’t because Chaeryeong can’t pile that onto her list of things to worry about right now. There weren’t very many people on the tennis courts when Chaeryeong relieved Yuri of her station a few moments ago, but the area is still a mess. 

“Ryujin,” Yuna says contemplatively, turning the name over in her mouth as if to see how it fits. “She’s pretty.” 

Chaeryeong chuckles fondly, “the prettiest,” then grabs the half-empty bucket of tennis balls before setting off to collect what remains on the courts. As an afterthought she adds, “she has a very pretty girlfriend though. They might be looking for a third though, if that’s your kind of thing.” 

Yuna’s trailing behind her as she walks around cleaning up, her platform shoes thumping against the pavement.

“Oh,” she says, sounding a little disappointed, a little horrified. “It’s not, I think.” It would be funny, cute even, if Chaeryeong didn’t feel her heart get a tad heavier at the reaction. 

Really, it makes sense for her to be into someone like Ryujin because, like Ryujin, Yuna is magnetic in a way that not very many people manage to be naturally. 

In the middle of all the mess—the electric lime tennis balls scattered around the blue court, tennis rackets placed haphazardly on the ground, children fumbling through lessons in the background—stands Shin Yuna: long-limbed, wide-eyed, and pretty as a doll in her hot pink tennis outfit. Christ. She always sticks out like a sore thumb with her vibrantly-colored outfits and beach blonde hair and ridiculously imposing height. It’s impossible not to notice her. 

Chaeryeong is hardwired to be adverse to people like that—people that command attention without effort. People that are just trouble waiting to happen. Spontaneous with a bad habit of bending the rules and jumping head first and showing up late to their check-in slots, messing up the whole schedule that Chaeryeong meticulously crafted to optimize guest satisfaction. Among other grievous offenses. 

Yuna has efficiently fucked with Chaeryeong’s hardwiring with her probing questions and cat-that-caught-the-canary smiles and rich kid restlessness that should be annoying, but somehow never is. 

“You’re not…like you two aren’t…” Yuna says suddenly, her sentence trailing off. 

Chaeryeong turns to her and is surprised to find her looking embarrassed. She usually carries herself with all the confidence of the pre-law student she is, Chaeryeong started to think shame wasn’t an emotion she was capable of. 

“Because some of my friends think you might be because you’re always together and stuff. But you’re not, right?” 

Chaeryeong studies the faint blush on her face and thinks oh, before letting her eyes drift down to the lime green tennis balls gathered in her arms. The warm feeling in her chest is cast out by something more familiar to her: slight panic. “What are you doing?”

“Helping?” is Yuna’s response but she doesn’t sound sure anymore. Chaeryeong motions for her to drop the balls into the bucket. 

“Don’t do that,” she chides as she picks up the last of the bunch before putting the basket back to the side. 

Not very many members frequent this area of the club anyway. Tennis seems to be a dying sport for this generation so Chaeryeong checks the same regulars in every other day. Whoever swept through today didn’t even bother hanging up their rackets, leaving them by the nets or near the benches. Chaeryeong thinks one might even be broken. That’s definitely coming out of her check. But that’s her problem, not Yuna’s so she tells her to stay put while she fixes it. 

That kid is trouble and 100% going to be the cause of her unemployment. She almost says as much before her brain finally processes everything else Yuna’s said. With the rackets hung up, Chaeryeong pivots back to the younger, who’s standing there looking confused in her pretty pink outfit and impractical shoes, with a smile on her face. 

“You talk to your friends about me?” 

“What? No,” Yuna deflects quickly, looking away. Oh, she’s adorable. Professionalism is the only thing keeping Chaeryeong from squeezing her right now. “I don’t know. Sometimes. We just hang out a lot so they get curious.”

Chaeryeong doesn’t think she would count what they do as hanging out, but that’s neither here nor there. “Oh, do they? And what do you say about me?” 

“You know…just stuff.”

“Like?” Chaeryeong prompts, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. 

From across the court, she sees Yeji pass by with her class of primary school-aged swimmers. They’re almost single-file. She mouths kill me and Chaeryeong sends back a finger heart. Yuna is staring at her with this weird smile when she turns back to their conversation. 

She sticks her hand up, listing things off on her fingers. “Mostly how it’s really nice of you to play singles with me sometimes. Sometimes, about the fact that you’re brilliant in a weird way, like you know a lot of random facts. Super particular about certain things. A little evasive. Cute. Can make an okay smoothie. Stuff like that.”

Chaeryeong wrinkles her nose, lightly swatting at Yuna’s shoulder. “Just ‘okay?’ Never ask me for a smoothie again.”

“Sensitive too.” 

“Alright, I get it. And what do they say?” Not that she cares. Only a little bit, maybe. 

“They say you’re dating Ryujin which is a little discouraging, to be honest.” 

Discouraging is an interesting way to put it, but leave it to Yuna to do so. Chaeryeong has always thought that one of the worst things about people is that they’re purposely hard to read. They do one thing but mean another, and say yes when they really want to say no. Stuff like that trips Chaeryeong up and always makes communicating feel harder than it needs to be. 

Yuna isn’t hard to read at all—everything she says, she means and all the things she does are because she wants to. If she asks a question, it’s because she genuinely doesn’t know, not because she’s checking if you know the answer. It’s as refreshing as it is daunting, to be faced with unfiltered honesty all of the time, but Yuna makes it feel…simple. She’s really quite simple when Chaeryeong thinks about it.

Usually, she just wants someone to play singles with, or someone to talk to. Chaeryeong can do both of those things. 

“Well. Don’t be.” Yuna blinks, owlish, but she’s smiling like she already knows. Of all things that is what makes Chaeryeong blush, she doesn’t even know why but she finds herself having to turn away from her. 

The equipment. It must be sanitized. Yes, that’s why. 

“Ryujin is dating a club member.” 

“Oh,” Yuna says. Chaeryeong can hear the smile even with her back turned. “Okay.” 

june

When Chaeryeong really thinks about it, most of her problems stem from her friendship with Ryujin.  

Chaeryeong is never late. She couldn’t control that when she was younger and being dropped off at primary school by a mom with a broken internal clock, but Chaeryeong is twenty-one now. She’s made it a point to always be a little early or at least on time, looking perfectly put together and presentable for the day with a stomach full of food and already caffeinated out of her mind. People tend to like people like that. Or envy them. Chaeryeong is truly fine with either. 

So, really, she doesn’t know how she slept through her first five alarms, or how she missed her train or forgot to lay out her clothes the night before. It’s not something she’s in the habit of doing. If she had to take a guess though, it probably has something to do with Ryujin dragging her out for a surprise weekend of fun.  

And even though she really isn’t late, reaching the club at nine on the dot, taking the five extra minutes to iron her uniform once she gets to the locker room does put her behind schedule. 

Ryujin staring at her as she figures out where to plug the fucking iron in doesn’t help either. 

“Has anyone ever told you that your eyes are extremely oppressive?” 

“Good morning to you too, sunshine.” Ryujin brings her lime green sunglasses from the bridge of her nose to the top of her head, looking terribly pretty for someone who woke up at six-thirty this morning. God, that should be Chaeryeong. “I just came to tell you that Yuna’s looking for you, but thank you for the compliment.” 

Chaeryeong starts to point out that she wasn’t complimenting her at all but stops in her track. Shit. She must be really late if Shin Yuna is here before her. But when she takes a look at the clock on the wall she finds it’s three minutes past nine. “It’s nine in the morning. She’s never here at this time. Don’t be a dick.” 

“She gets here earlier every day,” Ryujin laughs, shooing away Chaeryeong’s frantic hands, plugging the iron into the nearest outlet that Chaeryeong swears wasn’t there before, laying out her uniform on the bench. She starts with the skirt first, pressing each individual pleat the way Chaeryeong prefers. “She requested you but I told her you weren’t working the courts today. Never make me do that again. It was like I slapped her across the face.” 

“I’m gonna assume you’re being hyperbolic.” 

“I wish I was,” Ryujin grumbles, flipping the skirt over to do the other side. Her own white uniform top is a little wrinkled but that’s not unusual for Ryujin. “I’m telling you, she’s obsessed.” 

Chaeryeong scowls, eyes flicking from the clock to Ryujin who looks all too happy with her reaction. “You don’t get paid to make stuff up about club members, Ryujin.” 

Now that she thinks about it, she’s pretty sure Ryujin opened today and should be tending the snack bar as they speak, which is what she actually gets paid to do. As to how she continues getting away with less than satisfactory work is beyond Chaeryeong, but there’s no use in questioning it now when she’s doing her a favor. Still, she wonders who’s manning Ryujin’s station as she takes the time to bother her. 

“And you don’t get paid to flirt with them, yet here we are.” Ryujin whips the skirt at her behind and Chaeryeong grabs it from her, resisting the urge to hit her back as she slides it over her shorts. 

To be clear, Chaeryeong does not flirt with club members because that’s extremely inappropriate and generally unappealing when the leading demographic consists of middle-aged people and their kids. What she does with Yuna isn’t flirting, it’s exceptional hospitality. Before she can say just that, Ryujin quips out. “Don’t even try to deny it. Trust me, I would know–”

“Can we not–” 

“–you haven’t dated since. Well, you know. And I still know what you flirting looks like–”

“Okaaay! Are you done?” Chaeryeong cuts her off, not liking the direction of this conversation. The clock reads 9:08. She feels like she’s going to crawl right out of her skin. “I should really get out there, and so should you. Seriously, how have you not been fired?” 

The shirt, not unlike the skirt, has been ironed to perfection, left without any wrinkles or those weird creases that Chaeryeong hates. Ryujin hands it to her with a small smile on her face, shrugging her shoulders. She’s so carefree, it’s worrying. 

“Not too sure. I guess dating an insider pays off. You should try it.” 

“You must know by now that you are my antithesis.” 

Ryujin smiles like that pleases her. 

The top is warm and fits snug against her skin when Chaeryeong finally gets it on her body. It makes her feel a little better, though her stomach is still in knots and she might be one more minorly inconvenient thing away from throwing up. Okay, she needs to take a deep breath, slow and easy like her dad taught her. 

It’s a ridiculous and awful feeling, getting this worked up over something as trivial as being eight minutes late. Nobody even cares, really; Nayeon holds the record for most tardy and she’s the manager, but Chaeryeong is never late and that means something to her. It’s as if she’s a child again with no control.

A warm palm cups the back of her neck and Chaeryeong doesn’t think twice before leaning into it, her own hand catching Ryujin’s wrist. It helps a bit. 

“All good?” Ryujin’s voice is soft and kind and full of misplaced concern, her thumb rubbing circles over Chaeryeong’s sweaty nape. 

“Great. Thank you.” If it comes a little short, that’s because her heart is actively rebooting. She squeezes Ryujin’s hand in her own as an apology before letting them both drop to their sides. Any more of this and Chaeryeong will really get overwhelmed. 

Ryujin pouts. “Are you sure? I can totally go into the office, spin the hand back, and clock you in as early as you want if you need it. I do it all the time.” 

“What?” Chaeryeong wheezes. 

She’s so ridiculous and sweet. How does she still have a job? Like, how far can nepotism really get you?  

“Kidding, sort of.” She is probably not kidding at all. “And I know I already said it last night, but happy birthday.” 

Ryujin gives her one of those dopey smiles that makes her look like Meowth, cheeks round and mischievous, and Chaeryeong melts into her side like sugar in water, accepting a little bit of the comfort she provides just from being familiar. 

“Ryujin! You dick, you said five minutes.” Minjeong bursts through the door suddenly, a hand gripped firmly on the handle as she glares at her girlfriend. There’s what seems to be a still-wet blue stain on her swimsuit coverup and she looks none too happy about it. 

Minjeong steps further into the locker room, maybe to hit Ryujin who just says oops? but stops when she notices Chaeryeong. She takes the scene in for a second and then says, “woah, are you guys kissing in here? Without me?” 

“Never without you, baby,” Ryujin promises, at the same time Chaeryeong says, “I am not your third.” 

Minjeong pokes her bottom lip out and pats one of Chaeryeong’s cheeks, solemn. She smells like a blue raspberry slushie . “It hurts every time you remind me.”  

Chaeryeong once made the mistake of thinking Minjeong was shy and, like, normal. She should’ve known that only someone equally deranged as Ryujin could lock her down. The two of them together are enough to run her social meter into the ground before the work day has even begun. 

She grabs her bag and shuts her locker lest she work herself up again. “You guys are ruining my birthday. I hope you know that.”

The last thing she hears before the door swings shut behind her is Minjeong demanding a new coverup and Ryujin complaining about their wage disparity.

The day passes uneventfully. Nayeon schedules her on front desk duty as a birthday present, which is practically heaven in this place since it’s mainly taking calls that come few and far between in an air-conditioned space. A few people come in needing to be manually checked in because one of the kiosks is either broken or they don’t know how to work it, but that’s light work compared to some of the other shit she’s had to deal with. 

The worst part of her shift ends up being Jaemin and Yeji stopping by on their lunch break, armed with a cupcake from the kitchen and a very poor, very loud Happy Birthday performance .  

“You guys don’t get tired of doing this every year?” Chaeryeong groused when they were through. “It’s like I’m the only person that actually works in this place.” 

“I probably would’ve already stopped if your reactions weren’t so funny every time,” was Jaemin’s slimy retort just before he took a big bite of her cupcake. Yeji just laughed and tugged at one of Chaeryeong’s red ears. 

Other than that and a hbd i hope you’re doing well text from Jisu, the day is more of nothing. She tries to tell herself she deserves an easy, boring day, as a treat, but the numbers on the clock start to float by the time the end of her shift rolls around. Chaeryeong loves being alone, she thrives off of it most of the time. So it’s weird, really, that she finds herself wanting someone to talk to. 

It’s not until she’s packing her bag to leave that knobby knees enter her line of vision. Yuna is wearing slightly more sensible shoes today: platform Converse. The rest of the outfit is as tame as a Yuna outfit can get, an oversized cream cardigan and jorts. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses sit on the bridge of her nose too, making her look cozy in a way Chaeryeong has never seen her before.   

“Just curious—do you consider us friends?” 

“Hello to you too,” Chaeryeong jokes awkwardly, already feeling like she’s done something wrong. Yuna isn’t smiling like she usually is when she greets Chaeryeong, but she doesn’t look quite mad. It’s this weird middle that rings unfamiliar. 

“I’m serious, unnie. How could you not tell me it’s your birthday? You know my birthday,” she laments and the familiarity of it makes Chaeryeong sag in relief. 

“That’s because every other sentence you say ends with ‘it’s because I’m a Sag,’” Chaeryeong laughs lightly, then softens. “I’m sorry though. I didn’t really think about it.” 

Yuna shifts her weight to lean on the desk, still sulking but it feels more for show now. “It’s okay, I guess. I put it in my calendar already so it won’t happen again, but I still wish you told me. I would’ve gotten you a present or a card or something.” 

“Well, if that’s what you’re worried about then stop. I’m not really a gift kind of person anyway.” 

“Not really a gift kind of person. That’s not a real thing.”

“I assure you, it is.” 

“Who even says stuff like that?” 

All Chaeryeong can do at that is shrug even if it stings a little to hear. Jisu hated that the most when they were dating, all of Chaeryeong’s middling reactions at the many trinkets she got her. Yeji told her that they just had incompatible love languages, whatever that means. She wonders briefly if her heart and Yuna’s have mismatched tongues as well, and then she shoos the thought away. It really doesn’t matter. 

Okay, it matters a little.

As if noticing her misstep, Yuna reaches over the counter (not allowed, by the way) to tug on Chaeryeong’s sleeve like a little kid. “Can I come with you?”

She pauses, looking at where Yuna’s manicured hand lingers on her sweater sleeve. She tugs again. “Come with me where?”

“You’re going out to celebrate tonight right? I wanna come if it’s okay.” 

Chaeryeong blinks. “My friends actually took me out for three days straight so I’m all partied out,” she explains with a short laugh. “I was probably just gonna go home and play with my roommate’s cat.” 

“Ah, I see.” Yuna nods, processing this. “Well, how about dinner? Are you all dinner-ed out?” 

Chaeryeong narrows her eyes at her. “I feel like that still counts as a gift.”

“Well, you can pay if that makes you feel better. I was just trying to be polite, but if you insist.” 

Chaeryeong scoffs, wrapping her hand around her wrist to stop her when she goes to tug again. She turns the hand over, revealing a palm that doesn’t know labor, all soft and uncalloused. 

“How can you say that to me with a hand like this on my birthday,” Chaeryeong tuts, half-scandalized, half-buying herself time to think. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll pay,” she says easily, smiling with all her teeth on display. Pretty and daunting. Wow, Chaeryeong thinks to herself, embarrassed. She kind of missed Yuna. Her hand turns into Chaeryeong’s palm, pausing for a split second before sliding her fingers into the empty space with caution. Right, well. Okay. “But just for the sake of being clear, this would be us hanging out– that’s technically not a gift, right?”

“Just hanging out?” Chaeryeong questions, side-eyeing Yuna before focusing on the point where they connect. She could slip her hand from Yuna’s, she should do that. She doesn’t. 

“Yeah,” she says like it’s no big deal, even though Chaeryeong can feel the tremble in her hand. “That way you can say yes without feeling like you’re breaking all those rules you made up to stop me from asking you out on a real date.” 

“Oh.” Her words are blunt but said without malice. A simple observation, if you will. “That obvious, huh?” 

“I would back off if I felt like you…” Yuna has the good sense to look sheepish, refusing to make eye contact as she trails off with a shrug. “You like lines, right? I can respect that. But you’ve never turned me away, even when I annoy you with a lot of questions, and you always find time for me. I know that’s kind of your job but it’s different, right? Am I crazy?” 

And well. If Chaeryeong stops playing dumb for a moment, then yes, she can admit it is different. On principle, she knows what she should say and how she ought to act with Yuna. She’s a member of the club. Chaeryeong is an employee. 

But Yuna—she makes it so easy to forget that there’s a line to be drawn, drawing earnest conversation and fondness out of Chaeryeong like sap from a tree before she can even think to stop her. And somehow now, despite Chaeryeong’s greatest efforts, she knows her. She knows what makes her comfortable. She’s learned her self-preservation tactics and is taking them as something to work with instead of as something to work around. Providing her an easy out, a safety net to fall back on, instead of pushing for something more that Chaeryeong isn’t really mentally prepared for. 

No one has ever done something like this for her before. Chaeryeong kind of wants to drop to her knees and heave out the other half of the cupcake thinking about it. 

“You can also say no,” Yuna adds because of course she does, voice low and sweet. “I know I’m no match for playing with your roommate’s cat.” 

Dinner isn’t anything special. Yuna takes her to a hole in the wall near her university, which they figure out isn’t very far from Chaeryeong’s. Everything is under ten bucks, and Yuna explains it away with it’s how the rich stay rich, unnie when Chaeryeong makes a comment about her being cheap. The food is delicious though, warms her up from the inside and Yuna splurges on drinks for them so she can’t complain. 

Somewhere along the way, one glass becomes three. Yuna matches her but she’s holding her liquor like a champ, which feels cruel and unfair since Chaeryeong can feel herself getting sillier with each passing moment. Her eyes feel heavier, her body hotter, her words looser. She drops her phone once and the people at the table next to them return it to her. Something like awe blooms on Yuna’s face as Chaeryeong unravels before her eyes, and Chaeryeong can’t hold her tongue anymore when she catches her staring for the third time. 

“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m starting to feel objectified.” 

Yuna startles but continues to stare. “I just–I’ve never seen you without your uniform on.” 

It’s not a lie but she is lying. The light jumper and cargos Chaeryeong threw on in the locker room aren’t exactly a fashion statement, but it’s a lot more her than the uniform she’s usually in when Yuna is around.   

“Do I still look cute or is it the uniform that does it for you?” she asks, posing with her hands on her hips for further inspection. Yuna laughs and the sound goes straight through Chaeryeong’s chest.  

“You always look cute. Especially now,” she murmurs, shaking her head like she can’t believe it. 

“If you like this, then just wait ‘til Fall, that’s when I really start dressing.”

“I’m being serious. I like it.” Yuna grins, doubling down. “I’m actually really into fashion, you know? I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” 

“I’ve noticed.” She just barely stops herself from admitting how much she’s noticed. Both parts, the fashion and the unstoppered honesty. Instead, she pivots. “You’re pre-law, right? Are you going into fashion law or double majoring?” 

Yuna shakes her head again, pursing her lips. “No, just regular, boring medical law. That’s what my family does, so yeah…that’s what I’m doing, I guess.” She ends with a small sad laugh, her eyes focused on the sesame noodles in her bowl. Then she looks up suddenly, as if remembering herself. “Not to complain or anything because I know it could be worse. And honestly, law isn’t that bad. I really do like it some days.” 

“But you would choose something else if you could?” Chaeryeong asks gently, sinking her chin into her palm. 

Hesitantly, Yuna nods. “I mean…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, instead tipping her head back to drink the last bit of her beer. She clears her throat before turning her big brown eyes on Chaeryeong, a little helpless. “Wouldn’t you?”

Chaeryeong pretends to think about it for her sake, weak to those eyes, even though she knows her answer. It doesn’t matter what she would do because they are nothing alike, diametrically opposed at their cores. She would take the safer option in a heartbeat, but Yuna—she’s different, bolder and greener in every sense, and Chaeryeong has this niggling feeling in her chest that wants Yuna to have everything she desires.

It might be because she’s a little drunk or because Yuna looks too sad for comfort on her birthday, but Chaeryeong slaps her palm on the table. Everything atop it rattles. “Well, I say go for it.” 

Yuna laughs again, loud, bewildered. She pushes an untouched glass of water toward Chaeryeong, urging her to drink some with an amused glint in her eye. Reluctantly, Chaeryeong does.   

“Can I tell you a secret, unnie?” 

Chaeryeong nods mid-sip. She hadn’t realized she was this parched. 

“It’s a secret that you can’t tell anyone else in the world, okay?” Yuna says, her voice somewhere between serious and teasing. Chaeryeong groans, “Yuna.” 

“Okay, okay. I kind of already do…that.” 

At Chaeryeong’s confused noise, Yuna pulls out her phone and brings up a YouTube channel that Chaeryeong’s eyes take a second to focus on. She recognizes it vaguely, having walked in on Sumin watching some of the styling videos from the faceless vlogger in the living room. What Yuna is trying to tell her clicks belatedly. 

“That’s you?” she asks, maybe a tad bit too loud. “My roommate loves your videos.” 

“Really? That’s…so cool. I don’t know why but I feel like nobody’s really watching even when I can see the numbers saying otherwise,” she says, genuinely shocked. This is the silliest girl Chaeryeong has ever met. “The whole styling thing feels a little dumb sometimes. But it’s also the one thing I can say is all mine.”   

“I don’t think that’s dumb. It’s really cool and it seems like something you love, so it can't be dumb. It’s important to me that you know that,” Chaeryeong says with fierce conviction that makes Yuna pinken. “Also, you have nearly half a million subscribers. You’re practically famous because of styling.”  

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Yuna says, her smile complacent and familiar. Chaeryeong hates that she likes it. “Is it finally okay for me to ask you questions about yourself now or do I have to wait for the second not-date?” 

This kid. As if she hasn’t clung onto the mere crumbs Chaeryeong let slip and arranged them until it was whole again, like pieces of a puzzle. 

Chaeryeong hums as if considering it, making an attempt to finish her own bowl of noodles. “I’ll allow it.”

Talking about herself doesn’t feel tricky when there’s this much alcohol in her and Yuna’s genuine curiosity propels her forward. Chaeryeong tells her about how hard the life of a middle child is, and that clinical nutrition really isn’t as boring of a major as it sounds but it is demanding in both time and effort. Yuna marvels at the fact that Chaeryeong moved out so young and Chaeryeong is equally shocked to find out Yuna still lives at home, considering.

“It’s comfortable,” Yuna says matter-of-factly. “Dorms are kinda gross and I’ve never been great at being alone anyway.” 

That’s fair, even though Chaeryeong can’t relate at all. As soon as she had enough money saved up, she was online answering every and any open room ads. They get to talking about their friends eventually and Chaeryeong thinks she speaks for twenty minutes straight, all of her love for them spilling into the space between them until she starts getting maudlin. A small part of her wishes they were here, but Yuna’s company right now is nice too. Really nice, if she’s honest. 

Every joke she tells brings Chaeryeong to near tears and her sincere way of speaking, even about herself, makes her feel more real—more mess and frivolous and girl—than perfect to Chaeryeong, who’s been having a hard time finding her flaws. She doesn’t even bother playing coy when she flirts, doling out affection like she’s made of it. It’s hard not to feel giddy off it. Chaeryeong has this awkward urge to giggle into her pillow like a little kid when she gets home tonight. 

They chat between bites until there’s no more food left and their waiter comes over with the check and a polite reminder that they’re closing in ten minutes. 

The air is crisp outside, but it’s not cool enough to justify the way Chaeryeong slumps into Yuna’s side as they wait for a cab. Their sides are connected from thigh to shoulder and Chaeryeong still tries to lean into her more, taking comfort in the way she tucks neatly under the arm Yuna’s wrapped around her. It’s the first time they’ve ever been this close to each other. If Chaeryeong were sober, she would never allow it. But since she’s not, her current worry remains the fact that Yuna has more height on her than she thought and she likes it, like a lot. 

“You’re really affectionate when you’ve had a few.” Yuna’s voice next to her ear makes her jump. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing great,” Chaeryeong lies, her head feeling a little woozy. The fresh air helps if only a smidge, but admitting this feels like losing. “This is a normal amount of affection, by the way. It’s just reserved for not-dates. Congrats.” 

“Right. So if I stepped away from you right now you’d be able to stand up straight?” At her silence, Yuna bursts out into laughter.

“Don’t be mean, Yuna-yah, it’s my birthday,” she sing-songs, reaching up to pinch one of Yuna’s cheeks. Her face is soft under her fingers, and under the hue of the streetlight, Chaeryeong can see the effects of the beer on Yuna’s skin, kissed blushy and romantic. 

“Yeah, it is. Did I ever say it? I don’t think I did.” She’s looking at her, endeared, and Chaeryeong dares to look back, studying how the other’s wide eyes wander over her face. “Happy birthday, unnie. I’m really happy I met you.” 

God, this girl. 

“Me too. I’m really happy I met you too,” she murmurs, peering up at Yuna from behind her lashes. She watches as indecision passes over the younger’s face, swaying unsteadily on her feet as if the liquor had no influence over her but Chaeryeong does. Chaeryeong needs to kiss her. Tomorrow, she will probably feel embarrassed about this, but right now, she’s going to bask in how devastating Yuna makes her feel. 

Chaeryeong tilts her head up slightly, expecting, wanting, and delights in Yuna’s resolve crumbling in front of her eyes as she chances a glance down at her lips. Her expression is almost pained. She shifts from one foot to the next before a strangled noise bubbles out of her. The next thing Chaeryeong knows, she’s dropping her cheek on top of Chaeryeong’s head and squeezing her in a tight embrace that takes the wind out of Chaeryeong. 

Her blonde head shakes in disbelief, but it feels more like she’s nuzzling herself into Chaeryeong’s hair. “Chaeryeong unnie. You’re really fucking cute, but if our first kiss is while you’re piss drunk I’m going to cry.” 

A brief silence passes where Chaeryeong just stares at her, then she full belly laughs to Yuna’s displeasure. She brings a hand to Yuna’s crown, smoothing down her hair. “Unnie is sorry.”

Yuna groans. Chaeryeong feels it all the way to her toes. “Don’t say it like that…”

-

Bizy runs to greet Chaeryeong at the door like he always does when she gets home from work. He rubs along her shins as she toes off her shoes until she reaches down to pet between his ears. Sumin is sitting on the couch when Chaeryeong enters the living room, her laptop perched precariously on the armrest because she has a real job that doesn't allow her downtime even during the summer. The TV is playing on a low volume as she works. 

Unsurprisingly, she’s watching Yuna’s channel. 

“Did you have a good birthday?” Sumin asks when she finally pops her work bubble and notices Chaeryeong looming over her. She slides over to make room for her on the couch. 

“The best.” Chaeryeong hums sleepily, curling up on her seat with her head in her roommate’s lap, thinking about how Yuna’s face looks when she’s about to land a joke, self-satisfied and excited, and how her lips felt on the flushed skin of her cheek when she wished her goodnight, pillowy and warm. “Thanks again for breakfast.”

“Anytime.” Sumin runs her hand over Chaeryeong’s hair once with a smile before turning back to her laptop. 

The video that’s playing must be old because Yuna has dark brown hair in it, all tucked into a huge pink scarf. Her face is blurred out and pixelated, but it isn’t hard to imagine what she must’ve looked like. Cute, probably. Undeniably. 

Her chest aches a little thinking about it. She wants to know Yuna in the winter too. 

“She’s pretty,” Chaeryeong mumbles after a while of silently watching and listening to Sumin typing. She shouldn’t fall asleep like this, her hair smells like grease and beer and Yuna.

“You can’t even see her face.” 

Chaeryeong just shrugs, hiding her smile in Sumin’s thigh.

july

June goes by almost too quickly, ushering in an even hotter and busier July. The shifts start to get longer only a few days into the heavy season and Chaeryeong feels it under her skin on her long commute home. 

Her schedule, at least, begins to offer a little more variability because of short staffing. Some days she’s working the grill room’s bar, which she quickly learns not even Jaemin’s cheery company makes any less excruciating. The members are sleazy in that part of the club, and she’s not nice enough not to snap, but it’s also one of the only stations with air-con so Chaeryeong bears it on particularly hot days. 

Rainy afternoons seem to be the only reprieve in July. Everybody hates going out in the rain, especially to a mostly outdoor country club.

It’s not significant, but it rains on the day Jisu invites Chaeryeong to her birthday celebration. 

최지수 🐶
hey chaeryeongie
i know you’re probably working rn but i wanted to
invite you to my birthday thing
it’s painting pottery! yeji and ryujinnie will be there too
just let me know when you get off? ☺️

Chaeryeong stares down at her phone blankly, unmoving. Painting pottery sounds fun. It’s exactly the type of thing Chaeryeong loves to do, but never has, which is exactly why she can’t go. She’s already given so many of her firsts to Jisu, another one would feel like prodding at an already tender wound. 

“Ooh, is that the ex?” Chaeryeong flinches, she can’t help it. She nearly asks Yuna how she even knows about that before she recalls getting fucked up in front of her on several occasions and spilling practically everything about herself in less than an hour. 

“Nosy,” she says, tepid, but allows Yuna to look anyway. “But, yes.” 

Chaeryeong is on an extended lunch right now since there’s a grand total of twenty-five people on site that even a torrential downpour couldn’t stop. Yuna is one of these people, but at the very least she brought Chaeryeong lunch and entertainment in the form of Uno cards. 

She tilts her head over the phone to get a better view, pressing her side into Chaeryeong’s. She smells heavily of the grease from their pizza, but the powdery perfume and SPF that breaks out from underneath that make Chaeryeong want to lean in.

“Choi Jisu. Puppy emoji.” Yuna reads the texts and whistles low, her expression grim. “I don’t know how you can be friends with your ex. Every ex I’ve ever had has evoked a deep hatred in me that I didn’t know I had inside me.”

Chaeryeong chuckles despite herself, just a breath but it breaks up the feeling in her chest. She looks through her cards: mostly blue, no number stacks. The last card Yuna put down was yellow. Tough. “She was one of my best friends before we started dating, so even though it hurts sometimes, I still love her as a friend. Both of these things can exist, I think.” She shrugs, but she means it genuinely. “You’d probably really like her if you met.” 

Yuna nods, locking Chaeryeong’s phone for her. Her face is uncharacteristically sober, her mouth pressed into a line. Dressed in a baby pink Juicy Couture sweatsuit with her hair damp from the rain, though, she sort of just looks like a mildly annoyed wet kitten. She stares at the phone like she’s trying to explode it with her mind.

“She hurt you?”

Chaeryeong looks up from her half-eaten slice of pizza, eyebrows raised. “Yea, but I think I hurt her too. So…” 

At this Yuna pauses for a moment, as if considering it for the first time. It makes Chaeryeong wonder if she holds onto the naive idea that her crushes can do no wrong, and maybe that’s why she ends up hating them so much. Sure, the breakup hadn’t been pretty and the aftermath was worse. Chaeryeong said a lot of things she didn’t mean but couldn’t take back, and they still sit between her and Jisu at times, but she always knew Jisu could hurt her, maybe more than anyone else ever could. Now, they both shoulder the blame for thinking they could ever mold each other enough to make it work. 

After what seems like careful deliberation, Yuna nods again and moves on, putting a yellow skip down after Chaeryeong picks up from the deck which is more than fine with Chaeryeong, who still doesn’t have anything good to put down. 

Just when she thinks the conversation is put behind them, Yuna leans her weight toward Chaeryeong, her hand landing on top of Chaeryeong’s, and says, “Unnie.” 

Chaeryeong doesn’t get to respond before Yuna is kissing her. Her hand gets crushed under Yuna’s the closer they get and it hurts but that feels secondary to everything else happening. They’ve only kissed a handful of times before, each time hesitant and filled with nerves and is this okay? before they warmed up to each other. And each time, Chaeryeong saw it coming, so this feels different for a few reasons. 

Despite its abruptness, Yuna’s mouth on hers is as gentle as the fingers cradling her jaw but the urgency in it feels obvious to Chaeryeong. She should pull back, ask to talk maybe, but then Yuna makes a sweet noise in the back of her throat and Chaeryeong decides she is willing to overlook it for now. She surges forward, guiding Yuna into something a little less PG, parting her lips on a pretty sigh that makes Chaeryeong want to swallow her whole. 

It takes her phone buzzing in her pocket for Chaeryeong to pull back, hand on Yuna’s shoulder to keep her from reeling back in.  

“I’m at work, Yuna,” she says, bringing her other hand up to her lips. She can’t believe she just did that. She looks at Yuna, who’s all glassy-eyed and flushed in the face. Chaeryeong wants to kiss her again. Yuna has made her a monster. 

“I know. Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” Yuna says with a sheepish smile before returning to her side of the bench. She picks up her cards again. “So, uh, what’s your educated take on today’s lunch?”   

The pizza sits between them as they take cover on a bench under an awning, watching the rain fall. It has a bunch of toppings that Chaeryeong would never get if she were alone but Yuna seems to love. Bulgogi, sweet potato, pineapple. “Um. Bad for you?”

“Wow, are those technical terms? You must be top of your class.” 

“Shut up.” She knocks her shoulder into the younger’s with a huff and decides to stay there, melting into her side, the exhaustion catching up with her. Yuna holds her up well. 

“Unnie, you’re bleeding.”

“Huh?”

“Your cards,” Yuna says, gesturing toward the thirteen shitty cards in Chaeryeong’s hand. “I can see your whole hand. It sucks, by the way.” 

“I know!” she groans, throwing her hand down. “You’re a bad shuffler.”

Yuna cackles childishly, tossing her cards down too. They spend the rest of Chaeryeong’s break playing (and arguing about) cards, and even though the conversation feels light, Chaeryeong can tell something is troubling Yuna. Her face betrays her, as if her every muscle is revolting against the omission of sincerity. Chaeryeong watches words flicker up before dying right at the tip of her tongue several times. 

It’s not until Nayeon texts her that they need her back at the bar that Yuna asks what’s been weighing on her mind. “Chaeryeong unnie,” she starts, hand reaching out to stop Chaeryeong from where she’s cleaning up their mess, eyes round and imploring. “Does it still hurt?” 

Chaeryeong opens her mouth, shocked, a firm no on the tip of her tongue instinctively, but she swallows it. Yuna is always candid with her, it’s only fair she tries to do the same. 

But where to start? The last time she kissed Jisu was a year ago, which should be long enough to forget how shy kissing her made Chaeryeong feel but she still remembers, even if she’s forgotten how Jisu’s hands felt on her hips. All the trinkets and gifts she’s given her sit in a box under her bed, but Chaeryeong has long since been able to recall what each one is off the top of her head. There are still pieces of Jisu stuck inside where her fingers can’t reach to pry them out, but more and more of their relationship leaves her steadily. The parts that linger are just spots on Chaeryeong’s skin, nothing more than tiny little bruises. No longer sore but still there. 

“Only a little,” is what she lands on with a small smile, squeezing Yuna’s hand in her own. Yuna squeezes back. Chaeryeong feels something sprout deep in her chest. “Less every day.”

-

Contrary to the front she likes to put up, Ryujin is capable of doing work sometimes. Chaeryeong would even go as far as to say she’s quite good at it sometimes. 

On a good week, her tips end up doubling the amount of anyone else at the club because she’s eerily charismatic despite being extremely stranger-averse. All of their coworkers, Chaeryeong included, would probably hate her if she wasn’t so generous about it—always allowing others to join her on the green and at the snack bar to leech off of the tips she brings in. 

Watching her in action is not unlike being at the zoo for Chaeryeong, who has seen Ryujin hug the wall and/or disappear for hours at social gatherings. She trades small talk without difficulty like there aren’t days when she goes completely nonverbal and inaccessible. It’s enthralling. 

Personally, Chaeryeong would rather be caught dead than be a cart girl on any occasion but Ryujin thrives doing it. The promise of free lunch is the only reason she joins Ryujin.  

“This is why people think we’re dating,” Chaeryeong says when they finish refilling a group of middle-aged golfers' glasses. One of them slipped Ryujin two bills and Ryujin handed one off to Chaeryeong. “You monopolize all of my time and for no reason. It scares everyone off.”

“People think we’re dating? Nice.” Ryujin grins to herself as she drives them further down the course. She has the same green sunnies on which feels like a safety hazard right now. “And I don’t think it’s for no reason when you’re my best friend. That in itself is a reason.”

“Tell that to Jisung. Poor guy is stuck on lifeguard duty. You know children frighten him.”

“Jisung’s shadow frightens him. Besides, he cramps my style with all that straight boy energy. I get way more tips with you.” They drive past another pair of cart girls but Chaeryeong can’t say she recognizes them. They wave anyway. “Why do you need more friends? You have plenty.”

Chaeryeong bursts out laughing. “That’s not the point, you weirdo. I could always do with more.”

“Ohhh, by people you mean Yuna,” she surmises with a knowing smile. She doesn’t know shit. “I haven’t seen her around lately. Are you saying I scared her off? Little ole me?” 

Chaeryeong sucks her teeth, watching the blades of grass pass her by. Real grass because yeah, it’s that kind of country club. 

“No. She’s on vacation with her family right now.” Lake Como, if she remembers correctly. 

Yuna gave her a heads up that she’d be gone for a few weeks while they were on facetime a couple of nights ago. They’ve been doing that more and more lately—talking on the phone, sending each other instagram reels in the middle of the day, making plans to meet up either at the club or elsewhere. On any given day, Chaeryeong wakes up to several photos of Yuna’s cat. Chaeryeong is emotionally attached to that cat now. Each exchange leaves her both riddled with anxiety and full to the brim with a hunger she hasn’t felt in a long time. 

“How could you possibly know that–wait. Are you guys texting?”

Ryujin makes it sound more scandalous than it is. Of course they’re texting, they hang out all the time. But Ryujin wouldn’t know that. Chaeryeong still stutters, failing to coherently answer what is essentially a yes or no question. The sound of a group of young guys with empty glasses calling them over feels like sweet mercy. 

She lets Ryujin handle most of the charming, focusing her energy on pouring their drinks and getting her mouth to form words again. 

“What can I get you guys to drink?” Ryujin asks, her siren smile on display. The most Chaeryeong has to say ends up being no, sorry, we don’t serve White Claws. They don’t tip but she hadn’t expected them to. 

Only when they’re back on the cart does she pick the conversation back up. “I think this is what the kids call the talking stage.” 

Ryujin snorts. The cart jerks. “Oh, is that what the kids are calling it? Are you forty?” 

“You can laugh but just know that on the inside I am freaking the fuck out.” It’s supposed to come off light-hearted and jokey, but her voice is a little too tight. A small swell of anxiety makes a home inside her, barbing at her ribs. “It’s so weird, Ryujin.” 

The green is the worst possible place to have a moment, Ryujin knows this and steers them to a secluded area before handing a water bottle to Chaeryeong. She takes a few sips and sighs. 

Ryujin pushes the shades to her crown in a rare attempt at being serious. “The doctor is in. Tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

A bunch of things bubble up inside of her, all great and meaningful and articulate ways of explaining what’s bothering her. Like how talking to Yuna actually does make her giggle into her pillow sometimes, and that she went over to her apartment one day and let Yuna dress her up like a little doll for her channel because she’s developed an inability to say no to her, and that every time she so much as looks at her for too long, Chaeryeong feels a deep yearning inside of her that’s horrifying in its newness. 

“I’ve been counting down the days until she gets back,” is what Chaeryeong blurts out instead. She doesn’t miss Ryujin’s eyebrows shooting up. “She told me that she’s bringing something back for me and I’ve been counting down the days, Ryujin. I think I’m going insane.” 

Ryujin sets a heavy hand on her shoulder. “You’re not going insane because you have a crush.”

She doesn’t say that crush feels like too insignificant of a word but she thinks it, which is bad enough. “I’m going insane.” 

“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this before, but it’s okay to just let things happen to you and like have fun sometimes.”

“Never been told that, actually. Everyone thinks I’m incredibly well-adjusted and can process things normally.” Of course, Chaeryeong has heard it before, namely from Ryujin but Ryujin is allergic to structure so she takes advice like that sparingly. “I wasn’t born with the capacity to just let things happen and you know it.”

“I do,” her best friend agrees, nodding, because she was always the kid holding Chaeryeong’s hand when both of their parents were late for pickup. Ryujin has seen so many of her little breakdowns and made her laugh after each awful breakup, and she understands her even when she protests being known. “But I also know that you have the capacity to learn and to change. Even if it’s just a little, even if it’s very slowly.” 

Chaeryeong swallows thickly. “I think– just– I like her so much,” she says in a voice that doesn’t feel like her own. “I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“That’s okay, too.” Ryujin runs a comforting hand down her hair. “You don’t have to know. There’s so much love inside of you, Chaeryeong, and it’s probably never going to make sense. It’s love that you can’t control, love that won’t wane just because you will it to. My advice? Let it tip over sometimes.”  

It’s great advice in general, true and straightforward and reasonable, but Chaeryeong has never been too great at the relinquishing control thing or the relationship thing. 

Too much, too soon is what the girl before Jisu told her, which made it fucking hilarious when Jisu showed up at her door after fourteen months of dating and said Chaeryeong wasn’t giving her enough. Enough what? Chaeryeong wanted to ask but somehow never worked up the courage to. She came to her own conclusions. Since then, her relationships have been nothing more than ephemeral, before eventually dwindling down to nothing. Until Yuna.  

“What if what she wants is just a summer fling and I’m setting myself up for something else? I think I tend to misread my relationships and I don’t– I just don’t want to fuck it up again.”

And there it is, all of Chaeryeong’s insecurity summed up in a few words in the middle of a workday, splayed out all ugly and raw in the sunlight for Ryujin to poke and prod at as she pleases. The way Ryujin’s face falls makes her wish she hadn’t said it at all. 

“First of all, you’ve never done anything wrong in your life so that’s simply not possible,” Ryujin says very seriously, her hand reaching to tug on one of Chaeryeong’s ears as penance. “It hurts my feelings when you say stuff like that. Second, I think you just need to talk to her. I don’t think there’s any other way for you to know without asking her.” 

Chaeryeong nods because, yeah, that makes sense. If she asked, Yuna would tell her without difficulty. Perhaps that's what frightens her the most. 

“Third,” Ryujin continues, poking her firmly on her sternum. “You’re the most lovable person I’ve ever met. I really mean that, like, if Yuna doesn’t take you then we can really try to make our throuple work.” 

Chaeryeong laughs suddenly, and forces herself to look out at the course because looking at Ryujin’s stupid face is gonna push her over the edge and she’ll be damned if she cries over some girl. Even if she really likes that girl. 

They need to get back to work soon before they both get written up, but she can’t let this moment pass without hugging Ryujin close to her.

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I kinda feel like crying, but I’m okay. Thanks.”

“It’s okay to cry.”

“I know but I don’t want to.” Ryujin tightens her hold like she can squeeze out all of Chaeryeong’s neuroses with sheer force. It’s the thought that counts. “I love you, you know that right?” she asks, a little weepy. “I was thinking about it the other day and I really do love you.” 

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, in a weird way. The knot in her throat stops her just short of saying it. 

Begrudgingly, Ryujin wraps her arms around Chaeryeong too as if she heard it anyway, tucking her chin over her shoulder. “I’m kinda sad that you had to think about it, but I love you too.” 

-

신나양이
unnie…

령채
yes

신나양이
are you busy?
can i call? 🥺🥺🙏

령채
are u crazy
it’s two in the morning

신나양이
you answered so quickly though
were you waiting for meee
hey
don’t ignore me 😢 i want to see you 

  령채
…
i’m not busy
😒

Chaeryeong’s bedroom fills with the hum of a busy Italian street when she accepts Yuna’s call. It’s still light outside where she is, but just barely. Some of the streetlights are already on and the sky behind her is that pretty, deep blue that only seems to happen on late summer afternoons. 

“What time is it there?” she mumbles into her comforter. Half of her face is obscured by the duvet and she makes no move to change that. It’s two in the morning for God’s sake. Only the light from Yuna’s side of the phone illuminates her face. “Where are you going?”

“A little after six. I’m just outside the hotel, waiting for my dad to come down so we can get dinner.” Yuna squints, moving closer to her phone as if it’ll help. Chaeryeong watches in real-time as a pout develops on her lips, her eyebrows furrowing. “I can hardly see you.”

“This is as good as it’s gonna get,” she says with a short laugh at Yuna’s responding complaint. “That’s what you get for calling so late. I should be sleeping right now.” That, and the fact that Europe seems to agree with Yuna a little too much and Chaeryeong is too tired to spend the entire call hiding her admiration. 

The last time they spoke, Chaeryeong listened to her talk about all the places she’s lived before. Madrid for a while as a kid before moving back to Korea to learn the language, only to spend most of her middle and high school years in Vancouver. That was at least until her parents decided they wanted her to study at a university back home. Yuna had been a little wine drunk; a hint of pink high on her cheeks and chest as she sat outside of a cafe, pretty as a picture. Chaeryeong, coward that she is, had to force her eyes away. 

At least in the dark she can stare freely, take in the roundness of her cheekbones and the long line of her neck, and imagine what kind of face she’d make if Chaeryeong pressed a gentle hand there without suspicion. 

“So, you were waiting for me?” Yuna asks suddenly, teasing, with her head tilted and a crooked smile soft on her lips. It tears Chaeryeong’s bleeding heart right open. “Do you miss me, unnie?” 

She burrows further into the safety of her blankets, skin warm. “No.” 

This feels worse than missing her. Because there are times when Yuna’s videos will pop up in Chaeryeong’s recommendations and she’ll watch a video or two just to see what new thing she’s bought in Europe. There are other, more embarrassing times when the algorithm doesn’t work for her and she has to ask Sumin for the name of Yuna’s channel because her account is never signed in, leaving her without access to her watch history. She hasn’t devolved into sulking around about the lack of a physical, tangible Yuna in her life, but lately, her go-to show during meals has been Broad City because it’s the younger’s favorite and Chaeryeong can see her in it even though she finds the humor a little crude. Is that missing someone? Somehow this feels more complicated than that. She can feel its heartbeat inside of her humming, brutally persistent. 

“That’s okay. I miss you so much,” Yuna muses in 480p quality, heartbreakingly honest. 

-

It’s a basket of figs. 

Yuna returns from Italy with sunkissed skin, black hair, and a basket of figs. 

She got in late last night and rang Chaeryeong first thing in the morning to ask if she could come by to hang out. First thing in the morning to a jet-lagged Yuna is half-past ten, so Chaeryeong was already up and halfway through a load of laundry when she got the call. Yuna showed up at her door just shy of twenty minutes ago but she still hasn’t handed it over to Chaeryeong, the small wicker basket pressed close to her chest in a rare act of gaucherie. 

Chaeryeong balls up the last pair of socks in her pile, tossing them into her laundry basket before joining Yuna on the couch. “Yuna, is that for me or did you just come to show off?” 

“Um,” she says, moving the basket closer to herself if that’s even possible. “Depends.”

Chaeryeong surprises them both with a laugh. The sound eases the tension in Yuna’s body, a small smile breaking through. “On?”

Bizy runs from his cat tree and hops up onto the couch, seating himself in the space between them like he can tell they both need the support. He’s a good kitty. 

“Well. I thought of you when I tried them,” Yuna starts, running her unoccupied hand through her hair, mussing up her bangs. “The lady that sold it to me said it’s the best harvest of the season. I don’t really know if that’s true, but they’re delicious and you love summer fruits, so…I don’t know. I know you’re not really a gift person, but I feel like it doesn’t really count if we share it, right? Why do you look like that? Don’t be mad.”

Chaeryeong isn’t mad. Opening her mouth to say so, however, feels impossible. There’s this tightness in her throat barring anything useful from making its way through. It’s a basket of figs. Fucking figs. Italian figs, at that. She’s learning with startling clarity that only Yuna can inspire this very specific reaction from the chasms of Chaeryeong of either wanting to cry until there aren’t any tears left or kiss her. 

“Yuna,” she croaks out, and it sounds desperate even to her own ears but her feelings are larger than her. I like you. I like you so much it scares me. I think I’m being irrational. I think I’m making a mistake. I like you so much.

“Unnie, it’s okay if you don’t want them,” she reassures her with a genuine smile, though the edges of her eyes are frayed with worry. “It’s not a big deal. I’m sure my parents will enjoy it too.” 

“Yuna,” she tries again, burning from the inside out. Her hands close and open in her lap, itching to touch. Yuna reaches out for one, holding it in her own like an anchor keeping Chaeryeong from drifting away. What is it people say? The straw that broke the camel’s back? “Yuna, I really missed you.”  

It’s as close to the truth as she can manage right now without physically detaching the skin from her body. It seems to be enough for Yuna at any rate, who is shaking with barely contained glee. 

“Yeah?” she asks, barely a breath. 

“Yeah.”

When Yuna smiles, it’s blinding and gorgeous, all bunny-like incisors and sweetness like the figs they later split open with just their fingers, and it takes Chaeryeong for all she’s worth, but that hardly feels noteworthy anymore. 

august

Summer can’t end without a trip. 

It’s a rule Yeji made up when they were still in high school, back when she first got her license and Ryujin still had braces and Jisu hadn’t asked Chaeryeong out yet. To this day, they all agree their first trip was the best one; it was only a day after Yeji and Jisu’s graduation when they set out for a town an hour away with nothing but whatever money they managed to save and the feeling that this might be the end for them lingering in the air. Something about the heightened emotions of being eighteen with newfound independence made that summer special.

And then Yeji and Jisu started university. Ryujin got her braces removed, her three-year-long crush on Yeji miraculously went with it. They all started working at the country club save for Jisu, but it didn’t matter much because she ended up asking Chaeryeong on a date a couple of months after that. The end they feared never came, and the trips mellowed out as a result. Still, it’s the one thing Chaeryeong looks forward to every year. Just her friends and a random destination. 

And then Ryujin sends this text in the group chat:

류댕이
please don’t freak out and try to remember that
you guys like me sometimes
but can i bring minjeong?

Of course everyone freaks out. 

It’s anarchy for a whole hour as they debate the politics of The Trip and take turns poking fun at Ryujin’s puppy love. Chaeryeong honestly doesn’t care as much as she’s playing it up since she likes Minjeong but adding fuel to the fire is always more fun than sitting it out. Ryujin begs for mercy. Jisu says mercy doesn’t exist here. The chat is lawless.

Eventually, Yeji uses her authority as the eldest to grant her request, but her weird parental instincts render her unable to favor one kid over the other. 

This is to say that Yuna gets invited too. You know, for the sake of being fair. 

“My friends are a little unorthodox, but they mean well,” Chaeryeong tells Yuna when she asks in an overly casual way. She’s double-checking her toiletry bag, making sure she packed everything on her list. Yuna is taking up space in her already small room, badgering her with questions. So, same as usual. “You already know Yeji unnie and Ryujin anyway, but it’s not like a big deal if it’s not a perfect fit, you know.” 

“That’s different. I don’t really know them, not in a way that matters,” Yuna argues with a frown, standing up from Chaeryeong’s bed to sit in front of Chaeryeong on the floor. Her voice is insistent when she says, “they’re your friends. I want them to like me.”

Chaeryeong’s heart flip flops in her chest. She doesn’t fight the urge this time, putting both of her hands on Yuna’s shoulders before sealing their lips together, delighting in the goofy smile she feels bloom on Yuna’s mouth. Her reaction is immediate, leaning into Chaeryeong like this was an obvious, natural course of action. Lately, it sort of is. 

When they pull away, she says, “Yeji unnie is corny but in a way that’s really endearing, so she’ll love you as long as you love her. Jisu unnie is fairly easy to impress, so I wouldn’t worry about her either. Minjeong probably won’t talk to you much, but she’ll warm up to you eventually, and Ryujin—well, no promises there. You’re both so similar, you’ll probably either love or hate each other.”

There’s a firm line to Yuna’s mouth when she hears that, even though she’s a little pink in the face and staring at Chaeryeong’s. “Reassuring.”

They pile into Yeji’s same pre-loved olive green Kia Soul from high school just before sunrise on the first day. Since neither Chaeryeong nor Jisu ever bothered getting their license, they take reign over the backseat while Yeji and Ryujin take the front for optimal legroom. It was decided that the first day would be just the four of them and then whoever else was invited could travel out if they pleased, which feels fair. 

Per usual Ryujin falls asleep fifteen minutes into the drive, prone to carsickness when she’s not driving; which just leaves Yeji driving with her playlist of Taeyeon, Charlie Puth, and Ariana Grande on full blast, and Jisu and Chaeryeong with their legs tangled together in the back seat, occasionally singing along.  

“Hey,” Jisu says as Chaeryeong was just starting to feel sleepy, poking her with her socked foot. Her thick, black hair sits in a bun at the top of her head and she’s wearing the dark blue glasses Chaeryeong helped her pick out a few years back because they make her look dorky in a cute way. “You’re being quiet.” 

“Hi.” Chaeryeong smiles softly, always happy when Jisu is right in front of her. The idea of her tends to hurt more than she actually ever does. “Just tired, sorry.” 

Jisu shoots back one of those pleasant smiles, impossibly kind and disarming. “It’s okay, but you can’t fall asleep now. I need your help getting the aux from Yeji. I swear to God she makes me regret putting her onto Charlie Puth every single day.” 

Chaeryeong chuckles, running a hand down her face before making an effort to sit up more. “Alright, fine, but we gotta make this worth my time. Do you think we can get her to play Renaissance?” 

“Nah, she’s not that cool. Let’s be reasonable.” She says and it only kinda sounds like a joke, but Chaeryeong still laughs. 

“Hey, I can hear you,” Yeji grumbles from upfront before turning the volume up. Tyrant. 

For a split second, Jisu turns her gaze to Yeji in the front seat and then back at Chaeryeong again with those eyes that absorb light whole, scrutinizing. “Hey. You’re sure we’re okay? I just started to wonder, you know– are we okay?” 

Chaeryeong’s eyebrows wrinkle. “What? Of course, we are. Unnie, what are you talking about?”

“Okay, let me rephrase,” she says, not unkind but firm. “I thought we were fine, but then you didn’t come to my birthday thing, which isn’t a big deal, but I know you were free that day.” 

“I was working that day. I was scheduled, I told you that.” She was working that day, and she was scheduled, that is, after she swapped shifts with Jaemin at the last minute to get out of going. 

“No, you weren’t,” Jisu says, glumly, and it brews thick guilt in Chaeryeong’s stomach.  

She casts her eyes away from Jisu’s sad puppy dog face, instead looking out the window, hoping the conversation will die. “No, I guess I wasn’t.” 

The highway they’re on is right by a lake that shimmers a stunning blue as the sun rises, surrounded by miles of grassy peaks and trees. Chaeryeong watches them with fascination, distantly hoping she’ll see a cow or a horse or something equally as exciting. She wants to snap a picture for Yuna. 

“Can we talk about it?” When Chaeryeong turns back to Jisu, she still has that puppy dog face on but it’s as soft as the suggestion now, which is just like her. Never pushing a difficult conversation on someone that doesn’t want to have it. It’s probably why she stayed longer than she should have. In a way, she’s both the kindest and cruelest person Chaeryeong has ever met. 

“We’re okay. I promise. That day I just–couldn’t.” She shifts her position to face Jisu comfortably. Her expression hasn’t changed, but her shoulders look tense with worry. “I don’t know how else to explain it. Unnie, I’m really sorry I lied, but going felt like too much for me.”

“Did I do something wrong?” 

“No. Of course not. I just can’t sometimes.” 

Chaeryeong wishes she could say more, but it doesn’t make sense even to her. The time they’ve been broken up has already exceeded the time they were together, but for some reason, almost out of nowhere, a staunch pain will make itself known at the idea of being around Jisu. It’s weird because it’s never been hard seeing her, not even after they broke up and Chaeryeong hardly saw anyone other than Sumin and Bizy for at least a month, having thrown herself into school to curtail all of the fallout. Maybe that’s the crux of the problem though. It was too easy, slipping back into the cushy feeling their friendship offered as if they didn’t just blow up a year-long relationship, like they weren’t still pulling shrapnel from their wounds. They both wordlessly committed to acting like nothing really happened to salvage a friendship that probably needed space to mend itself in the first place.  

Jisu sighs, shutting her eyes. “It was dumb for us to assume we could just pick up where we left off, huh?” She chuckles mirthlessly, but her smile is still soft, impossibly kind. “Maybe it’s in our best interest to create boundaries, so that we can be better friends to each other. I don’t want this to hurt us any more than it already has.” 

As scary as the idea sounds, shifting their friendship once again into something unfamiliar, Chaeryeong also feels relieved to hear it. She lets out a shaky exhale before smiling. “Yeah, ok. Let’s try that.” 

“Thank fuck,” Yeji bursts out from the passenger seat, startling both of them. “We were one awkward hang away from locking you in a room and making you kiss and make up.”

-

The first day consists of little more than grocery shopping, fighting over rooms, and catching up over drinks until night creeps into the early hours of the morning. The town they end up at is only a few hours east, much closer to the sea than they’ve gone before, with hiking trails and a lake not too far away that they all deem Day 2 activities. Everyone ends up passing out in various parts of the Airbnb’s sun room, which felt like a good idea when they did it but feels decidedly less so when it’s seven in the morning and Chaeryeong can feel the sun behind her eyelids. 

As it is, Ryujin is rolled up in a comforter like a sad burrito at her feet on the floor for some reason. In the far corner of the room, Jisu is curled around a snoring Yeji on the couch. Great, Chaeryeong is the first one up at the sleepover. She kicks at Ryujin’s padded body until she releases a frustrated groan and pops her head out of the cocoon, all bleary-eyed. 

“What?” 

Chaeryeong’s mouth feels dry when she cracks it open to speak. “I’m hungry.”

“Fuck you,” Ryujin says succinctly but does eventually get up to make her special hangover spread for them. Chaeryeong trails after her with a private smile, going straight for the coffee beans they bought yesterday. 

The heavenly smell from the kitchen stirs the other two and they all gather around the kitchen table to eat family-style once Ryujin finishes. It’s a relatively quiet meal as everyone tries to shake off their hangovers, eventually peeling off into their respective rooms after drawing straws for cleaning duty. Chaeryeong is washing the dishes when her phone buzzes on the table.

“Shin-nayangie wants to know if we want anything from 7/11,” Ryujin announces, a funny lilt to her voice that makes Chaeryeong regret giving her the passcode to her phone. “Nicknames, huh? Inviting her to the trip. I’m not gonna scroll up and see something unsavory in these messages, right?”

“It’s a contact name. Get a grip.” Chaeryeong flicks her with some water and watches her retreat to behind the kitchen island with a shriek. “I’m changing my password.” 

Ryujin laughs. “So, I take it you guys talked?” 

The sudsy water becomes fascinating to Chaeryeong, who grits her teeth and says nothing. The sigh Ryujin lets out is long and troubled. “Oh my god, Chaeryeong.”

The good thing about Ryujin is that she doesn’t lecture, that’s Yeji’s thing, so the conversation dies as soon as it becomes clear Chaeryeong won’t talk about it. And that should be the end of it,  but the topic looms over her head all day. They pack a picnic basket filled with bottled tea, gimbap they picked up yesterday, and more snacks than strictly necessary, and start out on one of the easier hiking trails. It’s exactly the kind of day Chaeryeong likes the most, sunny with a slight sea breeze she can feel on her face, but all she can think about is the fact that summer is ending. 

Summer is ending and Chaeryeong hasn’t told Yuna how much she likes her. Summer is ending and Chaeryeong doesn’t know if Yuna likes her enough to want to know her past…whatever it is they are. 

She tries to shake the feeling of impending doom off and enjoy the day with her friends. It’s rare for the four of them to get together like this, she doesn’t want to waste it on useless brooding. Jisu makes them take a million pictures together along the way, both with her phone and an expensive film camera that Yeji calls pretentious despite posing for several photos. The trail takes them over a stream laden with rocks and surrounded by pretty, lush foliage, then eventually over a bridge where they can look over the river. Ryujin complains the whole way about her poor knees and Yeji rightfully berates her as their resident jock. They eat lunch together, splitting tangerines to share, before heading back and Chaeryeong is able to forget about it for a little while longer. 

She’s fresh out of the shower, toweling off her hair and in a new set of clothes, when Yuna shows up. She’s sitting in one of the accent chairs in Chaeryeong’s bedroom, dressed in a baggy white t-shirt and blue jeans that kinda make her look small despite not being so whatsoever, and fiddling with something on her wrist. 

Chaeryeong steps further into the room, going straight for the dresser where her sunscreen is. Of course, she unpacked everything as soon as she got there, she’s not an animal. “Hey, when did you get here?” 

Yuna looks up at her, surprise appearing and disappearing in an instant, melting into something sweeter. “Like twenty minutes ago. I met everyone without you, it was kind of scary.” 

Chaeryeong smiles, cooing, “poor baby.” 

“You were right, by the way. I do like her.” Yuna sounds anguished to admit it, a constipated expression on her face, but that only makes Chaeryeong’s smile widen. “I think there was a small immature part of me that wanted to not like her, but she’s really nice. She made me a friendship bracelet, unnie.”

Oh, that’s what she was playing with. The bracelet is a dainty thing, made with small light pink and yellow beads and a flower charm in the center. Chaeryeong has a similar one in a jewelry box at home. She barks out a laugh. “Yeah, Jisu does that. It’s how she gets you.” 

“Consider me got. Everyone else is really nice too, even Ryujin.”

“You’re so easily swayed,” Chaeryeong tsks as she rubs the lotion on her face, but there’s this swell of endearment and hope growing in her chest. Yuna likes her friends. That feels so good for reasons Chaeryeong can’t even begin to explain. 

When she finishes applying her sunscreen, Yuna reaches out for her with grabby hands and Chaeryeong goes, falling into her lap. 

“I was wondering where this went,” Yuna says, arms wrapped around Chaeryeong’s midsection in what could possibly be a hug if Chaeryeong could breathe. Her fingers play in the black fabric of Chaeryeong’s hoodie, which when she gets a good look at it—a four-square collage of different cats on the front with I Love Cats printed down the side—she realizes is not her hoodie at all.  

Her face burns. “It’s from that one time you styled me for your channel. I left with it on, so I just kept it…” 

Yuna holds her tighter, shaking her around a little. “You’re so cute.” 

“Shut up. How was the drive here?”

Yuna complains about weekend traffic and having to do it all by herself, and Chaeryeong tells her she’s so brave. Just to rub it in, she details her very fun ride up with her friends which makes Yuna poke at her sides until she agrees to ride back home with her.   

“God, I can’t believe school is starting soon. I have to take actual med courses this semester. I’m going to die,” Yuna whines, head thudding on the back of the chair. Chaeryeong’s skin prickles. “When do your classes start?”

“Two weeks from now, I think. Next week is actually my last with the club,” she mentions casually, trying to gauge Yuna’s reaction out of the corner of her eye. For the most part, her face remains unchanged, just contemplative. 

“Oh? I thought you said you work there sometimes during the school year?”

“I do, but I have an internship lined up at a clinic this year and an on-campus job, so I just won’t have the time to do it all,” she explains, face scrunching up instinctively. On one hand, she’s excited to start this new phase of her life. It’s one step away from being a part-timer and towards a career she’ll find joy in. On the other hand, working at the club is as much a part of her routine as waking up and brushing her teeth. So many of her friends are there, she could walk the whole layout with her eyes closed, and it’s just safe. And, of course, there’s Yuna. 

Yuna, who rolled up to the country club at the beginning of May with a brand new membership card and a smile that cracked Chaeryeong’s ribs right open, making space for herself without ever asking. Chaeryeong never stood a chance. 

“Oh.” Yuna rubs a hand down Chaeryeong’s arm before settling on her waist. “Well, I hope you don’t overwork yourself, unnie. I’m really happy you’re gonna be doing something you like, even though I’m gonna miss seeing you.”

It’s a sweet thing to say, really, but it confirms Chaeryeong’s worst fears. Her heart deflates in her chest like a sad balloon. “Thanks.”

Has she done it again? She looks at Yuna, who doesn’t look bothered at all that their time is slowly dwindling away, and wonders if she’d gotten her signals all crossed again. It would be the funniest thing to happen to her in a while if she wasn’t feeling so pathetic.  

Yuna notices. “Hey, what’s that face for?” 

Chaeryeong turns her head away, closing her eyes too because they’re starting to sting and she just—can’t right now. If she thought it would help, she’d stand up and walk out as well, but, selfishly, she likes being this close to Yuna. She likes Yuna’s hands on her skin, down her arms, trailing goosebumps wherever she touches. If it has to end with summer, then Chaeryeong will take every last drop. 

As if she can tell, Yuna places both of her palms on either side of Chaeryeong’s face and turns it with little resistance until she’s facing Yuna again. She pecks her lips quickly before asking, “is it something I said?” 

“No. I’m sorry,” she sighs, glad that she can’t see Yuna’s face, and leans in to kiss her back. She gets the corner of her mouth. 

This is so dumb. It’s unfair for her to expect something from Yuna that she never asked for, but it just…it felt like Yuna really liked her, and it felt like for once Chaeryeong was on the same page with someone she wants. Was it so naive to think that maybe Yuna would want to know her in the winter too? 

“Don’t be sorry. But can you talk to me?” Now she sounds worried, one of her hands sliding down against Chaeryeong’s ribs. “Please.” 

Chaeryeong sighs, and digs the heels of her palms into her eyes until she starts seeing spots. “Yuna, you know I like you, right?”

Yuna doesn’t even hesitate, which is…well. “I like you too.”

“No, I–” Fuck. What was it Ryujin had said, just let it tip over sometimes? God, that sounds terrible. “I really like you, like a lot. I’m really sorry for not telling you sooner but, I don’t know, it makes me really fucking scared to be like this. With you. But you mean a lot to me and being around you feels really comfortable in a way I’m not completely used to and I just…I would like to date you for real.”

She finishes, holding her breath until it feels like she’s about to die before Yuna says something. “Chaeryeong unnie, look at me.” 

“No.” 

“Please?” She sounds like she’s coaxing a small child from their hiding place instead of someone that has two years on her. It wounds Chaeryeong’s ego, which was probably the intention, forcing her out from behind her hands.

Soft, patient eyes greet her. There’s a hard curve to her mouth though that suggests she’s thinking about something. It’s not super reassuring to Chaeryeong’s nerves. 

“I don’t really know what to say.”

Chaeryeong’s heart drums painfully in her chest. The sun is beginning to set outside her window and she can hear some of the girls in the living room, probably discussing dinner. She’s never wanted someone to come and drag her from her room more. 

She swallows. “Oh, okay. That’s okay. You don’t have to. I mean, I wasn’t expecting you to.” That’s a lie, but aloofness is all she has left to cling to. 

“No, sorry, don’t make that face. I’m just confused.” Yuna frowns, smoothing her thumb over Chaeryeong’s cheek. Gently, like she’s afraid to break Chaeryeong any further. She feels herself sigh at the touch. “You like me, and I like you. So, I just assumed.”

What? “What?”

The sincerity on Yuna’s face and dripping from her voice are concerning because Chaeryeong is beyond lost right now. Apprehension pricks her neck like a hundred tiny needles, manifesting in beads of sweat at her nape. She wonders if Yuna can feel how tense she is. 

“Have we not been dating this entire time? I’ve been calling you my girlfriend to my friends for two months now.”

Chaeryeong feels herself wheeze. “What?”

Yuna smiles teasingly, pinching one of Chaeryeong’s earlobes. “Happy almost anniversary, by the way.”  

Chaeryeong feels her stomach roll. The decision to actually walk across the room is made out of self-preservation and Yuna respects that, staying seated, because of course she does. “Please don’t be cute right now. I think I'm on the brink of a panic attack.” 

“I’m sorry.” She doesn’t sound very sorry. For some reason, this is all amusing to Yuna, made obvious by the stupid little grin on her face. In contrast, Chaeryeong is doing everything in her power to not collapse and die on the floor of this Airbnb right now. 

Chaeryeong takes one breath, two. “We’re dating?”

“Are we not?”  

Her eyebrows furrow deeply, disbelieving. “But then why would you say that you’re going to miss me?” 

It’s Yuna’s turn to look confused. She shifts in her seat a little as Chaeryeong crosses back over, just needing to walk the nerves out at this point. Her hand catches onto Chaeryeong’s wrist, bringing her to a stop in front of her on her second lap past her. 

“You’re making me dizzy,” she explains calmly, enveloping Chaeryeong’s hand with her own. “I said that because you sound like you’re gonna be really busy this semester and we probably won’t see each other as much, right? Of course, I’m gonna miss you.” The confidence in her voice doesn’t match up with the jerky shrug she gives, nor do her pinkening ears. “I didn’t mean that we’d never see each other again. I wouldn’t do that to you—especially not so casually.”  

“Oh,” Chaeryeong responds, her voice sounding like it’s coming from a well. “Well, now I feel like an idiot.” She needs at least five days to process everything that’s just happened, but as it is, she only has a few moments to gather her thoughts. She ends up saying the first thing to come to mind. She wishes it wasn’t the most insecure thing she’s ever managed to say out loud. “Are you sure?” 

Yuna’s expression crumbles. “Unnie, are you crazy?” She stands and pulls Chaeryeong into her with more force than strictly necessary, like an over-excited puppy. “I’m obsessed with you. I’ve been dating you in my head for two months.” 

A startled, nervous laugh sneaks out from Chaeryeong’s lips, because yeah, she kind of has, huh? It’s a strange sensation, having someone so wholly devoted to expressing their desire for her, but it’s something she’d like to get used to. “Yeah. That’s so embarrassing for you.” 

Yuna makes a wounded noise, squeezing her arms tighter around Chaeryeong’s waist. Hesitantly, Chaeryeong wraps her arms around Yuna’s neck, tucking her chin over her shoulder and sagging her weight on her. She trusts Yuna to hold her up.