Chapter Text
When Joohyun’s sleep is unfairly and obnoxiously cut short by Seulgi’s alarm, she wills herself out of the bed as Seulgi gently stirs and shuts it off.
She’s still full of a hazy sleep, mind fogged over and violently obscured. Sunrise only a few hours away, ready to be chased over and up the horizon. Lights flick on and they work around each other in quiet solitude, bubbly and horribly domestic. Joohyun is glad her mind is unable to conjure a proper thought, otherwise she’s sure she’d have gone mad —thinking, pondering, daydreaming about the many possibilities of this tender moment. Popping two more paracetamol tablets in preparation for the coming hours, she swallows them with the leftover Diet Coke. Purchasing more data after getting Seulgi to spill their next stop, Joohyun scours through Naver Maps for a spot on their way while Seulgi got ready.
Sure, love is a construct construed by false expectations. Sure, human connection presents itself false but—Seulgi seems to believe in some part of it, in its unreality dwarfed by venerated devotion. Sure, Joohyun could indulge her. Can indulge her. Why not? It’s the least she can do, to forgo her own wants for someone else’s. It’s the least she can do, to pay someone back for wasting their time by spending it with someone like her.
Joohyun carries her hurt like a diseased limb. Unwilling to part with it. But willing to let it fester and spread. She’s infected Seulgi, ruined her disposition because of her own unrelenting and untamed anger.
Maybe— maybe their conversation atop the washer stitched together the rips in their somewhat feigned camaraderie. So, she picks a vague area on the app and puts a pin in it. Fuck off, Maybe, it’s a good fucking idea.
She watches Seulgi emerge from the bathroom in her jeans and crop top, face freshly washed and lightly puffy from sleep. Watches her put on some eyeliner, watches her trace lipstick over her pout, watches her card her fingers through her hair to disentangle whatever was left of the braids. Entranced, Joohyun can’t bring herself to look somewhere else, so she jerks upright and pushes her shoulders back when Seulgi turns to point at her discarded polo lying on the bed.
“So, are you leaving that behind in exchange for what you did to the nightgown?”
“Of course not,” Joohyun scoffs, “she’s got a whole house she rents out. I can barely afford a pack of crisps right now.” She discreetly tucks her chin to sniff at her shirt, finding it still smells like cheap vodka, yesterday’s floral perfume, food and somewhat musty, from the dryer. “Besides, I think you look better in it. Which is—kind of humiliating for me.”
“Oh? You think so?” Joohyun keeps watch, transfixed, lips slightly parted in budding idiocy as Seulgi shrugs on her polo with exaggerated effort, balling up the front end and tucking it loosely underneath her bra. Midriff delectably exposed again. Joohyun is fucking besotted and not the good, intoxicated kind. Blind infatuation is rather ridiculous and a concept she detests. Especially after her ex exposed this farce with a subcutaneous stab in the middle of her spine— oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to actually hurt you —and she bled through the wound, systolic falling, falling, falling, until. Until she exorcised the knife and made a promise to never let herself feel again the wandering pursuit of tainted affections. Seulgi places both hands on her waist, cocking her hip in an exaggerated, runway pose. “Tell me. How humiliating is it for you?”
“Immensely. I should’ve known better than to share my clothes with you.
“What, no shamelessly inappropriate proposition? No flirtatious remarks? What’s gotten into you?”
“I’m just respecting your boundaries. You asked me to stop hitting on you. I’ve stopped. But now you want me to…?”
Seulgi scoffs. “No. I didn’t think you’d actually listen to me.”
“I told you—I like to follow orders.”
Joohyun trots behind Seulgi as she gathers their mess and stuffs it unceremoniously in the bin, returns the clothes and the room key at the reception, along with a note—of apology, of course. She’s never been one to like the judicious, the pragmatic, the goody-goody suck-ups who’d do any amount of good deeds to appear the mirror of good manners and sensibility. But, Seulgi’s only—she’s only cleaned up Joohyun’s errors and missteps, her conceited desires. Patched-up and made better all the wrongs Joohyun has done, from stealing a bicycle to crashing someone’s party to this fucking nightgown situation. A lifetime ago, she would’ve felt patronised but it’s sort of nice to be looked after. Cared for and thought about.
Back on the trail, she can’t shake off Seulgi’s words, the tone of her voice—so empty yet so full of grief, as though dangling from a precipice, somehow all right with the implications of the fall but also so afraid—the way she grew around her pain like a cancerous glob, at the ready to consume it until it’s nothing but a hollow husk, pulsing with just a memory. Looking back on it, Joohyun had wanted to consume it herself just to forget her own misery. It’s such an odd thing, to know with absolute certainty, that the person who vowed to spend forever by your side, did not really care for it, for you, for your shared worship of matrimony. To know with absolute certainty that it was all just a petty misconception. That real devotion is just a stuff of dreams, like a mirage you realise a little too late was fictitious, but you’ve already crawled up to it, raw and bloody, torn apart and seized dirty.
It’s why Joohyun had stood fast, folded over her heartache and strategised a way to fill that void created by her ex’s disloyalty. She hasn’t once had her hurt magnified since then, never once cared for the names of the people she’d slept with, hadn’t had to even think about it.
Until Kang Seulgi, it seems.
Why is this idiot so fond of—of knowing and caring and craving friendship from a fucking stranger? How strange does a person have to be to complicate such a relationship with feelings and emotions?
Neither speaks for the longest time. Gravel crunches in a continuous cycle under wheels. Nighttime spreads like molasses under tongue. Jeju is still awake somehow—a car to two passes by after a stretch of empty road, people stroll by in twos, threes, fours, sometimes, their laughter and merry, drunken disposition rings in the salted air.
Joohyun’s phone vibrates with the arrival of the location she’d pinned earlier. “Hey,” she calls. “You still seem a little tired.” When Seulgi only hums in response, she continues, “Let’s pull over for a while, yeah?”
“We can’t.”
“I’m just asking for five minutes to rest my delicate limbs. Is that really going to ruin your schedule?”
“You literally just woke up from a nap.”
“So did you and yet you still look like a corpse.”
“Fine, whatever.”
Seulgi huffs and reluctantly follows, eyebrows pinches in a frown—her indignation warmed by the half moon cowering behind patchy clouds. If not for the terrain that requires her attention, Joohyun would’ve liked to spend the time memorising the meditative touch of lethargic anger in Seulgi’s posture. She sends a smile over her shoulder, leading Seulgi up the path until the sunbaked sand meets the sea. Once they park their bicycles, Joohyun trudges up to the coastline. Calmness asserts itself silly and she closes her eyes against the weight of it, feels the gentle air prickle over her bare arms and the subtle rush of the waves sounds clamorous in her ears.
“Have your delicate limbs rested enough?” Seulgi asks.
Goose bumps rise on her arms and she tilts her chin up, opening her eyes to the dark expanse of the sky mottled by grey clouds. Fine, Mary, she hadn’t thought this far ahead. God forbid she’s spontaneous. Even if she did plan for this earlier. “No,” she says. “Can you just—let me have this? I like it here. It’s nice.”
“Sure, but. This isn’t any different than all the places you’ve complained about.”
“You’re right, but I see the appeal now.” She smiles at a slant, feeling the corner of her lip curve into her cheek. “Knowing you better makes it interesting.” Seulgi doesn’t even respond to that, which is— rude . It’s fine, it’s cool. She is cool. Calm and collected. A fucking adult. A saint, henny. “I’m finally seeing Jeju through your eyes, you should be proud of me. But you’re being all moody and sulking like a goddamn child.” Oops—Mary, when Joohyun said she was a saint, she didn’t really mean it. “What’s going on with you?”
“I just…” Sighing, Seulgi rubs a hand over her mouth. “I feel like I’ve wasted your time. I said I’d give you a tour, not… whatever this was. I thought I’d—I thought I could at least show you somewhere nice before you leave. Something better for you to look back on other than me trauma dumping on you.”
Joohyun feels herself waver a little with this rush of honesty, feels it shudder with her blood and make space for itself in the crescent lip of her heart. She’d quite like to gnaw it out and toss it back at Seulgi, but she lets it stay there, if only for a while.
“You didn’t waste my time,” she says, quieter than usual and it’s like cotton shoved into her throat. “I liked spending it with you. Whatever you’ve shown me was way better than any tourist-y spot you could’ve taken me to, it would’ve been full of annoying kids and even more annoying adults pretending to care about history.” She holds out her hand, hesitant. “So, you’re good.”
And just like that—Seulgi takes it. Her palm is tentative but firm, so alive and warm. Tender flesh as soft and plush as the night, finally given, finally felt without any subterfuge. Joohyun smiles as automatic as the breath she takes.
“Er, still… I owe you one good tourist-y spot.”
It’s fucking Herculean, the way Joohyun bites back a flirtatiously snarky comment. She has grown, mawma. She is showing restraint. “Sure,” she says instead. “For now, just enjoy the moment.”
Hands still connected, Seulgi looks out at the horizon oozing with the subtle promise of a spring shower. Joohyun doesn’t allow herself to look away from her. Heartbeat pulsing in the middle of her collarbones, she almost wishes she was the sort of person who took pictures of every minute and mundane moment of their life. She’d keep it under her tongue, like a secret she doesn’t want to share—a secret that bares its teeth at her unhappiness.
“I’ve enjoyed it. Let’s go?”
Joohyun stays rooted to the spot, tugging Seulgi back before they can get back on their bicycles to put an end to this day. She’s just gotten to know this dumb weirdo. “No, you—I mean, we can’t go. I’ve yet to give you a dose of my heartbreak recovery technique. The patent's still pending, by the way, so you can’t sue me in the case of any side effects.”
“Er—” Seulgi cuts herself off, confused. “I’m pretty sure I can.”
Joohyun instantly lets go of her hand and steps forward in challenge, feigning a playful swipe at her abdomen before stopping short, saying, “I’m pretty sure you can’t .”
Seulgi’s posture tightens abruptly and she takes a step back. “I can.”
Oh. Hah .
“Nuh-uh,” Joohyun says, grinning—tracing Seulgi’s steps as she backs off like a prey animal trying to put some distance before the inevitable. In one quick motion, she grabs the front of the polo and brushes her fingers against Seulgi’s stomach, who twitches out of her grasp. “What’s wrong?”
“No, no. No , Joohyun-ssi.”
“What d’you mean?”
“I know what you’re getting at— don’t ,” Seulgi yelps, stumbling backwards as soon as Joohyun gets her in the side. “Oh my god, stop! You’re going to regret it.”
“Aw, now you’ve made me curious.” Joohyun tilts her head. “What’ll you do if you don’t stop?”
Before Seulgi can bolt, Joohyun lunges and grabs hold of her wrist, aiming for her sides with feather-light touches which elicit shrieks of laughter and desperate huffs of: let go ! stop ! and you’re an asshole ! Her protests strain around the syllables, laughter tight and forced through what seems like a gulp of nitrous oxide and it’s fucking infectious . Joohyun finds giggles bursting through like some sort of malleable hunger aching to feast upon strung out joy. Seulgi collapses onto her knees, breathless, tugging Joohyun with her.
“Y’know, it’s okay if you yield,” Joohyun says, leaning in a little to gloat. “I promise I’ll only mock you when we’re alone.”
Joohyun’s grin is wiped clean off her face when Seulgi takes the opportunity to encircle both of her wrists and push her onto the sand. Her mind dissolves into actual putty, she can feel it run hot down the back of her head, neck and shoulders. If anyone was supposed to be on top, it was supposed to be Joohyun, not this—not Seulgi , who’s braced some of her weight on Joohyun’s wrists, still restrained, barely hovering over her body with a cocksure grin. Her hair falling like a curtain between this moment and the world around them, which now seems as fragile as a fairytale and Joohyun’s jaw goes slack.
“Told you you’d regret it,” Seulgi says, words charmed golden by suppressed laughter.
“Er, I don’t know.” Joohyun flounders for anything to say lest she be outed as the horny mess she feels like. “I, erm, I rather like it. Except I’m usually the one in control.”
In an instant, Seulgi is off and stood upright. She clears her throat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Joohyun gets on her elbows, digging into the sand and looks up at Seulgi with a mild approximation of disinterest. Or, she hopes she looks disinterested. “No, it was—the most fun I’ve had since I came here. That, too, with my clothes on.”
“Sure, yeah. Obviously.”
Her gut stirs full of forlorn pride and a little dejection as she makes to stand up. “Sorry your plan to make me regret it backfired in your face. Should’ve just pushed me into the ocean when you had the chance.”
“Can we go now, or are you still going to do this?”
“Nope,” she says, unlocking her phone and scrolling through Spotify, “that was just the preview.”
“Oh, great. Fun.”
“ Yes , Seulgi-ssi—it is fun!” She grabs onto Seulgi’s forearm and does a little shimmy, hitting play. “There’s just one rule to this: you have to belt the lyrics.” Mr Brightside blares tinny through her phone speakers. “ Coming out of my cage, and I’ve been doing just fine !”
(It was Taeyeon’s late night idea, infused with cheap red wine and even cheaper take-out, brought on by Cameron Diaz’s impassioned performance of said song in The Holiday. Joohyun was forcefully tugged off the couch, which was surprising, since she’d spent weeks imprinted on it. Was tugged up and asked to scream with the song and she did, she did but—all she felt after was a sense of hollow reckoning, that this was her life now, who she was now and she was so naked like someone had drilled into her skull and pulled the dura mater until thick viscous agony poured out onto the floor for everyone to gawk at. She’d felt better, than before, at least, better than when it was all too much and only alcohol made any sense.)
Seulgi raises her brows, amused. “Oh?”
“Uh-huh, girl,” Joohyun nods, then, because she can’t really flirt , she trails her palm down Seulgi’s forearm and catches onto her hand. She goes for a few poses doused in mock exaggeration, guiding Seulgi with her, aiming for the sort of dramaticisms she’s known for. “ And it’s all in my head, but she’s touching his chest now .” This song has the vague reminiscence of shattered happiness trying to meld itself together for one final act and it feels good again, pulling at her hand to get her to sing. But—it’s the lingering hurt sat huddled in the middle of her chest, its teeth gleaming lovely as its sharp incisors cut through whatever clothed appearances she has been keeping. This is not for her own sake, so she tilts her head back, unable to look at her. “ And I just can’t look, it’s killing me !” She goes for a little falsetto, unfortunately it doesn’t mask the tremor hiding between the words. Fucking hell , Mary—it killed her, ripped into her soul and mauled it dead. So utterly selfish in its inability to truly stop her breath. She looks abc in surprise upon hearing Seulgi’s first, real laughter of the night. Delighted, Joohyun smiles like it’s automatic. She says over the music, “Bit rude to just stand there while I’m serenading you, no? This is an experience and I need you to engage.” She starts jumping like a goddamn five year old once the chorus starts, it’s practically criminal for her age. “ Jealousy, turning saints into the sea ! Swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis !”
“ But it’s just the price I pay ,” Seulgi starts, their voices melding in unison, “ destiny is calling me. ” Grabbing onto her elbow, Joohyun leans back, and yells the loudest, “ Open up my eager eyes ! ‘Cause I’m Mr Brightside !”
When Joohyun looks back, she finds a tiny smile at the corner of Seulgi’s pretty mouth, encased in exasperation. “Didn’t know you had such a talent for lip-syncing.”
“Have you tried mashing your mouth around to other people’s music for four and a half minutes? It’s not as easy as it looks.” Praise to Saint Alaska Thunderfuck, to all queens who have irrevocably changed Joohyun’s vocabulary. Is she even a real person, when all she’s made up of are a mismatch of quotes, eclectic media choices—and a countless variety of mannerisms, smiles, postures she mimics from other people? Not the time for existentialist questions. Her hand is still gripping tight onto Seulgi’s elbow.
Seulgi’s expression pinches for a second, a quick movement of the muscles Joohyun might’ve missed had she not been paying attention. It flattens out and she pulls away, seeping, as if in a stupor, as if she’s lost control of time and found herself steeped in a faded memory. “I have. Er, let’s get going, if you’re done playing jester.”
“Oh, no—the song hasn’t finished yet, and I’ve also thought of an encore.”
“For what audience?”
“ Now I’m falling asleep, and she’s calling a cab !” Joohyun yells with some difficulty as though a lump forms itself punctual in her esophagus, buzzing raw and violent. Pressing herself into Seulgi’s space, she delights in her non-reaction, saying, “What’s the matter, Seul? Scared I’ll start a rumour that you’re vocally challenged?” Seulgi’s expression softens, somehow. “ He takes off her dress now, let me go !”
How it’d happened, started, all of it, played in Joohyun’s mind like some sort of twisted, theatrical play put on for the benefit of none. It would start again in a different way each time, end in a different way, hurt in a different way. Most of all— who made the first move ? She’d think herself nauseous, drown herself with the awful alcohol in her fridge, cry herself into woeful disassociation.
Seulgi’s pause ends in an implosion as she shouts the lyrics over Joohyun’s voice and she starts off at a run, tilting her head with a smile, urging Joohyun to follow. And it’s—cathartic, going around this tiny beachfront in casual, wayward circles like a bunch of children let out for playtime. Their laughter erupts into giggles when Joohyun catches up to her and latches onto the back of the polo, pulling back and turning her around, only to fall into her arms. For a wild moment, Joohyun thinks she feels some sort of selfless envy of the joy encased in Seulgi’s smile. But it’s gone and before either of them can speak, Spotify shuffles onto the next song. It’s one of the slower, willowy songs she’d sometimes put on those rare spring days, out in the park. The name slips from her tongue and she recognises the instant shift in the air around them, feels it slither back into indecent discomfort. Seulgi extricates herself from the makeshift hug, turning away.
“Dance with me,” Joohyun says, unbidden. Hand extended palm up in the new space between them. “You can’t say no.”
“I can, and I will. No.”
“What’s your excuse? Can’t dance?”
“I can .”
“Oh? Then show me.”
Seulgi looks back at her, eyes narrow and sharp, infuriated at the challenge. Her gaze darts down to Joohyun’s hand and back up. “I don’t think you could handle me.”
“I’m sure I can handle you just fine,” Joohyun says, lowering her voice to a deliberate cadence. Shaking out her hand at the wrist, she takes it back, fully grinning. She takes a slow step forward, feels the atmosphere light up with a quick spark, heady and absolutely insane. “Technically, my ex fell for me cause I could dance—really well. He was a part-time instructor, and I was there to impress someone else at the time.”
“Really?” Seulgi asks, tensing slightly when Joohyun rests her palms on her waist. “I’m guessing you didn’t manage to impress them.”
Her mouth wobbles like she’s a goddamn fucking idiot feeling the delicate weight of Seulgi’s hands on her shoulders. Is this why Seulgi is so apprehensive of touch, when it’s like being doused in an electric surf, full of a thrumming viscosity? “No,” she manages, quiet. “She was in love with someone else.”
“Oh, er.” Seulgi’s trained her gaze over Joohyun’s shoulder, unable to keep such close eye contact, Joohyun assumes. “That… sounds brutal. But at least it’s better than getting cheated on.”
“No sort of love is better than the other. They all hurt the same.”
“I don’t quite believe that.”
Joohyun scoffs, fingers tightening for a second before returning to their neutral grip but the action causes Seulgi’s gaze to snap back to hers. They sway lightly, reminiscent of awkward teenage dances, all bumbling steps and gossamer affections. “Go on, I need more context before I demolish your argument.”
“Right.” Her eyes look intense, restless, like they’re looking for some indication that’s long ago left this plane. “Not every love hurts the same. They’re all a little different on the scale. Some just bruise, while others… I mean—don’t they say true is violent?”
“First time I’ve heard anyone say that.”
“Noted. I’ll get it printed for my next merch drop.”
“Shut up,” Joohyun says, rolling her eyes. “By your logic, my ex was the love of my life. Good to know I found and lost my soulmate in the span of a few years.”
“He doesn’t deserve that title.” She squeezes Joohyun’s shoulders, thumbs digging into the skin above her collarbones. It’s quite shameful, really, with how much this gentle pressure scrambles to underneath her navel, like a couple of sorority girls stumbling around drunk at 3am. Pitiful, obnoxious, downright hideous. Seulgi continues, unaware of the un-glorified tangle of emotions swirling in a whirlpool of insanity inside Joohyun, “What I meant was… yes, true love hurt. Sometimes, it hurts the most. And maybe it’s not supposed to, I don’t know. But—you’ve got to figure out how to hold onto it. It’s special, it’s worth it. Your ex certainly didn’t know how to.”
“I don’t know about you but…” Joohyun trails off for dramatic effect. Using this moment of inattention, she presses herself into the almost space between them, feeling her gut sizzle as their stomachs slide flushed together. Seulgi’s smile falters when Joohyun interlocks her fingers at the small of her back. It’s fine —this is fine, it’s not like they’ll meet again. So, why not just. Go for it? Of course, she doesn’t take what isn’t offered. Some light physical flirtation should be the least of anyone’s concerns. Besides, didn’t Seulgi just ask Joohyun to stop hitting on her? “Holding onto you doesn’t seem too hard. On the contrary, I’m finding it really easy.”
“Careful, wouldn’t want you catching feelings.” Tone sardonic and lips curved wry, Seulgi guides her hands up and over Joohyun’s upper arms, down to her elbows, forcing Joohyun to let go with a gentle shove.
“Isn’t that how all great tragedies start?”
“Maybe.” Seulgi leans in and presses her forehead against Joohyun’s shoulder. Her breath is hot, catching a humid fire over Joohyun’s collarbone. “But I’ve heard they’re beautiful. So, I guess—it’s worth it.”
She’s almost shaking, a delicious thrum beneath her fingertips. Every nerve, muscle, tendon, receptor is enraptured, intoxicated in their obsessive supplication. Her lips are parted, jaw slacked with a look of awful idiocy she’s grateful Seulgi can’t see. Hands now fallen limp at her sides, she clenches them, savouring the way the strain in her forearm muscles ground her to this moment. It’s not simple, Mary—it’s not fucking simple .
Why is it so, that the hollowed intensity in her heart, now aches and shudders to connect with another human, to spew and splutter baseless words and emotions, all of its monotonous eccentricities, until it heaves, wretching on the floor, eyes shut, she’s about to reach out when the music shuffles abruptly into some grungy, garage punk. Joohyun shifts away, clearing her throat. Forces a mischievous tilt to her lips, yanking Seulgi back with her to spin in a wide arc. Seulgi shrieks, fingers clutching onto Joohyun’s for her life, it seems.
Vertigo blurs and rattles her fucking brain but it’s glamourous , henny. The world streaks by in disjointed trails of familiar impermanence. Like a bunch of rhinestones caught midfall. Light, light—she’s light and airy and laughter falls unbidden, sullying the sand with its transient charm and buffoon-ish innocence. Her goddamn cheeks hurt from the tension that comes from happiness that’s overstayed its welcome.
Joohyun stops slowly, stumbling like a drunkard, waiting and willing for her vision to right itself. She flops onto the sand. Head heavy, spinning maddeningly. Once she’s sure she isn’t about to puke, she turns to find Seulgi sat next to her.
“Hey,” she breathes.
“Oh—my god, Joohyun-ssi. You’re absolutely ridiculous.” Seulgi’s smiling as she leans back on her elbows. “And so dangerously easy to like.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Why not?”
The evidence stretches itself throughout the span of her life. Who she was, is, will be. It leads itself to many places—concrete, real areas of her life. All drenched in the inescapable veneer of her personality. An intolerable cunt. Insufferable whore. Fucking bitch. Always kept herself at bay, gave them reasons and nonsense to talk about. The artful cycle of gossip. Do what they bitch about. Do what they've labelled you as. Do what’s expected of you.
Joohyun brings up one shoulder in a semi-shrug. “I’m more dangerously easy to dislike, if anything.”
“Not really. Our actions aren’t any different; it’s what people take from them that changes.”
“So, basically, a homicidal maniac—”
“—Will still be liked. Even loved by someone close to them.” Seulgi lolls her head to the side and strands of patchy moonlight pepper her skin with divine reverence. “I’d like to know you better and make that decision myself. I told you my story, I believe I’m owed a little of yours. Unless—you don’t think I’m worth the effort.”
Joohyun sighs, flitting her gaze away. She crosses her legs, leaning forward slightly. “I was cheated on, that’s the start and the end of my story.”
“Sounds like the abridged version.”
“I guess. He cheated on me for like, eight months before I started to realise what was going on.” She clenches and unclenches her hands, phantom pain like numb fuzz on her knuckles from when she clocked him in the face when she found out. Feels a twinge of regret for not following through with more and more until the skin on her knuckles split red and garish until it was indistinguishable to tell whose blood was on who. “I was that stupid, that dumb to—to think putting five years into a relationship would mean I wouldn’t get so thoroughly humiliated like that.”
“That’s not stupidity. You trusted him—it’s what you’re meant to do. It’s not a flaw,” Seulgi says. Her hand comes to rest on Joohyun’s knee, it’s warm, steady—comforting like the caress of your favourite childhood blanket. The pad of her thumb swirls circles into Joohyun’s skin and. Fuck . “I know we’re like, strangers but I’m here for you. I’m here, even if it’s just for tonight. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
Joohyun’s entire body stiffens on instinct. She could move away, should move away. It’s too much, suddenly overstimulated, overwhelmed by some simple, innocent touching. She makes a fist in the sand just to make sure she doesn’t do something like grabbing the front of the polo and pulling Seulgi in for a bruising kiss.
“I think it’s best for you to take that back. I’m extremely high-maintenance.” Then, because she’d really love for this conversation to steer itself back into safer territory, she says, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Er—yeah.”
“Not to sound wounded, but what is it about me that makes you hate it so much when I flirt with you?”
“You make me feel like I’m worth the work,” she says. “It’s rather unsettling, to be honest.”