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For all the years Jungeun has known her, Kim Yerim has been somewhat of a bomb defuser, so to speak. During a fight, she's the presence that calms everyone, diffuses the tension, and misdirects the attention away from the tricky subject so the group can move on from their argument. She's still a weirdo, of course, but that also means her strange, out-of-pocket opinions don't cloud her judgement, and her objectivity thus makes her a great mediator. And with their ragtag group of friends from high school still as thick as thieves, Yerim’s presence remains a calm and comforting one.
Which is why it surprises Jungeun that Yerim spits out her drink, breaking from her usual calm and collected front, when she tells her, "I think Jiwoo wants to break up with me."
"WHAT?!" Yerim’s eyes were practically the size of saucers. “You can’t be serious.”
Jungeun rolls her eyes, idly fiddling with the keychain on her bag. “You know I would never joke about this. I have perfectly good reason to suspect she’s really just not that into me anymore, and fine, I guess it’s valid.”
“You’re serious,” Yerim deadpans. She’s concerned now, Jungeun can tell.
“Maybe she thinks we’re boring. We’ve been together for ten years and literally nothing is new anymore. Sometimes I go days without seeing her face and I miss her like crazy but when she sees me it’s like, eh, same old girlfriend, no big deal. And you know Jiwoo. She loves the excitement of owning new things, trying new stuff…”
“You’re talking like you’re an old teddy bear she’s throwing out after ten years because it no longer brings her excitement. You’re not a fucking soft toy, Kim Jungeun,” Yerim chides. “You’re the best friend she fell in love with. She loves you so much. Don’t be stupid.”
Jungeun furrows her eyebrows, a signature move. She’s frustrated, and it is definitely evident.
“You don’t know that,” Jungeun says defeatedly, “she’s avoiding me a whole lot.”
It all started a few weeks ago, on a Saturday night (or Sunday morning, really). The clock tells her that it’s 3.15 a.m., and the empty space beside her tells her Jiwoo isn’t home yet.
It’s hard not to worry when Jiwoo told her she would have been home by 11. She calls, calls, and calls, only to reach voicemail every time. Jiwoo is perfectly capable of taking care of herself, that she knows, but she’s also a lightweight, and god knows how hard she and her fellow teachers drink at these end-of-examinations parties.
By 3.22 a.m. she has her jacket hastily slipped on, and her hair still messily hanging off her shoulders when she rushes out of the bedroom, fully prepared to drive across town to get Jiwoo herself, only to find her passed out on their well-used, freshly-stained armchair.
“Hey, hey… baby. You’re so drunk,” Jungeun laughs. Jiwoo barely stirs, murmurs something in blabbers, and curls further into herself.
“Jiwoo,” Jungeun calls again. “Come to bed with me.”
“Nooooo, I don’t wannaaaaaa.” Jiwoo shrugs off the hand on her shoulder, turning herself into the armchair and burying her face into the aged leather.
Maybe it was dramatic of Jungeun to assume the worse in that moment. But seeing Jiwoo’s frown and deeply-furrowed eyebrows makes her feel nothing but startled at how Jiwoo seems to mean it.
Did she do something wrong?
Jungeun goes to bed alone, thinking and thinking.
“I mean, what if we’re better off as friends?”
“Jungeun,” Yerim pinches her nose bridge for this one. “Jungeun. You two have literally been dating fine for the past ten years. You have been in a stable, wholesome, and happy relationship for ten whole years.”
“Yeah, but what if we never got together and we’re happier that way!”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Jungeun always looks forward to spending their anniversary with Jiwoo.
The first, Jungeun gifted Jiwoo her diary in which she had documented all her sorrows about being in love with her best friend. Jiwoo bawled reading it. On the second, Jiwoo wrote Jungeun a song about stars and skies (because Jungeun liked those things), and another about Jungeun (because then Jiwoo could write about what she liked, it’s only fair). Jungeun didn’t stop crying for hours. They flew to Jeju-do for the third and Bali for the fourth, and went to a steakhouse for the fifth. The sixth was spent slow-dancing in the comfort of their new home, one that they now owned together. The seventh, back at the steakhouse. The eighth, Jungeun has to work late, but they make up for it a week later in the form of a weekend spent back in their hometown. And the most recent, to celebrate their ninth year together, they popped open a bottle of well-aged red wine and talked about redecorating their house.
That’s a lot of anniversaries. Some spectacular and grand, others not so, but all done in the same spirit, and all concluding with reaffirmed feelings of love and adoration for the other. They had mostly planned those together, but for their tenth anniversary, Jungeun decides to take charge. Make it the mother of all their celebrations-- a grand spectacle that involved glamping, some luxurious wine and dessert, an embarrassing pair of couple shirts, and maybe even a little surprise reserved for Jiwoo when it came to their after-dark activities.
Jungeun tells Jiwoo over text to clear her plans for the weekend closest to their anniversary, hints at a surprise being planned for her, and then… gets no response for the rest of the day.
Jiwoo starts a different topic the moment she comes home to Jungeun, talks about this new dance teacher they hired that she now has to direct a musical with, then flakes on movie night saying that she’s too tired, and leaves Jungeun confused, slightly angered, and thinking, yet again, for the rest of the night.
The instance Jungeun realises she dreads their upcoming anniversary is the moment she panics, and sends a stressed text to Yerim, asking for help.
“Okay, fair enough. I’m sorry for invalidating your worries. I guess it must hurt to have her ghost you all day. Especially about your anniversary.”
“Right?” Jungeun contemplates that for a second, and surprises Yerim with: “Should I break up with her before our anniversary?”
“Well, do you want to break up with her?”
“No, not at all.”
What.
Yerim was genuinely concerned for the first two minutes of this conversation. Now she’s just convinced that Jungeun has a screw loose somewhere in that head of hers. She only lets herself leave her forehead (that she had slammed onto the table) on the cold surface for two seconds more than deemed necessary. It hurts and she totally regrets it, but she reckons overwhelming stupidity does beget an equivalent amount of idiocy.
“Have you talked to her about this? How you feel insecure about your relationship?”
“Who do you think I am?” Jungeun grumbles. “I took three years to tell her I liked her. This has only gone on for like, a few weeks? So, of course not.”
“You’re not seriously waiting three years to talk to her about this, are you?” When met with silence and a blank stare, Yerim screeches, pinching Jungeun on the forearm. “Tell me you’re not waiting like an idiot for her to break up with you before you even try working things out!”
“Ah, ah, AH! Fine, fine,” Jungeun rubs the sore spot, scowling. “But I don’t even know how to bring it up. Sometimes things are normal again, and I feel like I’m overthinking. And then the next day she doesn’t want me to go to her school to have lunch with her. It’s so confusing.”
The phone call replays again and again in her mind.
“Hey, I’m at the other air base today. I might be able to drop by to have lunch with you.”
“NO! I mean, uh, don’t come to the school. I won’t be there. We’re on a field trip right now.”
“You didn’t tell me about a field trip,” Jungeun feels her heart drop even saying that out loud. Jiwoo didn’t tell her, oh my god, Jiwoo didn’t tell her about the field trip. “I could have packed you some lunch.”
“It’s fine, I didn’t want you to wake up so early just to make me food. I’m a big girl.”
Jungeun laughs, but it’s a little restrained because, oh my god, Jiwoo didn’t tell her about the field trip. Jiwoo always tells her when they have a field trip. Jiwoo even tells her about this girl in her class that has a beautiful voice but refuses to sing, and gives Jungeun updates about her every now and then. Jungeun doesn’t know what happened to “that shy girl in Jiwoo’s class” since she last heard Jiwoo talk about overhearing her cover “Titanium” secretly in the girls’ restroom. That was two weeks ago.
Oh my god, Jiwoo’s not telling her stuff now. Oh my god.
“Do you remember the time I thought Yeonjung liked Joowon the same way you liked Jiwoo, like right after we graduated high school?” Yerim tries. Jungeun lifts her head, her sad doe eyes evoking an emotion that is so pitiful and pathetic that Yerim is sure she has seen it before once, nearly ten years ago-- that one time Jiwoo walked out after Jungeun sang “Paper Hearts” straight to her face. “Well, she didn’t. She’s equally caring towards all her friends. I saw her put mustard on mine and Joowon’s hotdog before passing it to us and realised that hey, maybe she’s just like that to everyone!”
“So Yeonjung is a sweetheart. We knew that. Your point?”
Yerim articulates her next sentence slowly, like she’s talking to a child. “Jiwoo only puts mustard on your hotdog. That’s what I’m saying.”
“Are you saying Jiwoo isn’t equally nice to everyone? You motherf--”
“That’s it! That’s it, you are a fucking imbecile,” Yerim groans, “I’m saying that Jiwoo isn’t as perceptive to other people’s needs like she is to yours. And you’ve been dating for ten years. It’s easy to take things for granted. Maybe you’re taking her attention for granted. Have you ever put mustard on her hotdog?”
“Jiwoo doesn’t like mustard.” Jungeun watches Yerim slump over the table, burying her face into her hands, absolutely distressed. And then the realisation hits her. “Oh you meant hypothetically! Yeah, I have… Have I?”
“Please treat her to a nice dinner soon. Dress nicely. Make her dress up too, but it’s not like she doesn’t already do that for you.”
The next night, Jungeun wears the nicest button-up she has (the black one, the only one without any stains), and appears at Jiwoo’s school with a fresh bouquet of tulips in her hands.
Dashing, she knows.
She watches Jiwoo stroll across the carpark, unknowing and unsuspecting, chatting animatedly with her coworker. She’s wearing a plain white dress she got at a sale, but still has Jungeun all tongue-tied and smiling. Maybe being in the vicinity of high schoolers was making her feel like her own high school self again, but then again, she never did grow out of those same feelings she had way back then.
And then Jiwoo walks past her, still talking to this other lady-- taller, leaner and probably prettier (don’t blame Jungeun for thinking this way, we know she’s gorgeous, but her confidence is at an all time low) than her. She calls out unconfidently for her girlfriend, and Jiwoo has to do a double take when she spots the very familiar looking car, and the very familiar person leaning against it, waiting for her.
She waves goodbye to that coworker with a big smile, and turns to Jungeun, all wide-eyed and confused.
“Hey,” Jungeun greets, already wavering. “You didn’t get my text?”
“Sorry no, I was in a meeting for the last four hours.”
“Oh,” Jungeun says slowly, “well then, are you still up for a fancy dinner?”
She brandishes the flowers, and Jiwoo takes them with a silly smile. It quickly dissolves, though, and Jungeun feels that spark of hope in her heart disappear as fast as it came.
“I don’t know… I’m a little tired,” Jiwoo tells her, taking her hand, as if as an apology. “Did you already book a table?”
“Yeah,” Jungeun replies, though she knows now Jiwoo would feel bad and go for the dinner even if it was against her desires. She can’t ever lie to her. “I did, but it’s alright, we could just cancel--”
“No, no, let’s go. You’re all dressed up and looking nice already,” Jiwoo tells her with a sigh. “I should have checked my phone.”
Jungeun bites her tongue, and drives them to the dinner spot, and tries her hardest throughout the night to not feel the ever-constant dread that Jiwoo might break up with her at any time. They fill dinner with work talk, and the way Jiwoo tells her yet again about newly-hired Hot Dance Teacher (the one she’s directing the musical with, the one she was talking to at the carpark) Ha Sooyoung makes her feel all sorts of jealous, something she hasn’t felt since before they were together.
So there’s that. Jungeun tries to put some ketchup on Jiwoo’s hypothetical hotdog, and Jiwoo drops it the moment she puts it in her hands. Whether she did it intentionally or not is one thing, but it hurts regardless. Jungeun goes to bed that night, unable to tell if she’s thinking or over-thinking.
The next week is a preview of how an eternity in hell would feel like. Jiwoo misses calls, comes home late, and always looks like she’s not in the mood for conversation with Jungeun. They sleep with their backs to each other, and barely even touch each other.
It’s on the seventh day when Jiwoo forgets yet again about a dinner that she booked for them both at a barbecue place that Jungeun decides it’s the last straw. She finally remembers Yerim’s very useful advice, and gathers her bearings to properly talk to her. She’s not at all prepared to get broken up with, but if that’s what Jiwoo wants, then she might as well say her piece before Jiwoo drops the bomb on her, right?
Jungeun waits all night, tolerates all the Ha Sooyoung talk, and only finds the courage when dessert is served.
The innocent crème brûlée sits in between them, not knowing what’s to come. Jiwoo cracks the surface of the caramelised sugar on top, humming a happy tune when it breaks away satisfyingly. It’s almost a mirror to their relationship-- broken -- and Jungeun chokes back on some tears that have already threatened to fall.
“I know you’re breaking up with me.”
The way Jiwoo’s eyes widen like she’s been caught is almost hilarious, if not for the gravity of the situation.
“Jungeun, I…”
“No, let me say my piece, please, before you tell me all the reasons we shouldn’t be together anymore. I love you. I still love you as much as I did when I first started loving you, maybe even more. We’re very different people now, but I still love you because you’re you. You might not love me now like you used to, and I’m just… sorry I never grew into someone you could love as an adult.”
“Jungeun,” Jiwoo says, drawls it out like it isn’t true, when it must be.
“I know it must suck to have ended up with your best friend. You lost me as a friend when we started dating, and nowadays I keep thinking: what if we never dated? Maybe you’d be happier with someone else as your girlfriend and me as your friend. It’s been ten years and so I get it. You might want someone new by your side. I understand.
"But I love you so much and I need you to know that even after saying all this I'm not giving up on us so easily after everything we've been through together! All I want is a chance to make you happy again, so just give me that chance to prove that we're worth fighting for--"
"Jungeun, wait! Who told you I was going to break up with you?"
"No one. I mean, it's pretty obvious, with how much you're avoiding me."
Jiwoo's shoulders slump, her eyes downcast.
"Fine, after all that, I guess you deserve the truth. Jungeun, I don't want to be your girlfriend anymore."
Record scratch. Freeze frame. You're probably wondering how Jiwoo and Jungeun got into this situation. Let's--
Wait, you haven't given them the big reveal! That’s not how this transition works. Stupid writer.
Come on! I was just enjoying the five seconds of pain this brought the readers.
You know you want to let them read the happy ending.
Damn it, I really do. Fine.
"I want to be your wife," Jiwoo tells her sincerely, eyes welling up with tears. "I've been planning this huge proposal that I didn't want you to know about. You know how bad I am with secrets. I want to marry you so bad, oh my god, I can't believe you thought I was breaking up with you!"
That's better.
Happy now, Jiwoo?
More so if you hurry up and get to the part where Jungeun and I get married.
We'll get to that. But first...
Let's rewind.
Jiwoo doesn’t know how or why she ended up on a cab, but she has only one thought in her mind after passing by that jewelry store, and it’s killing her to have no one but the taxi driver to slur out a rant to. She unlocks her phone, lying across the backseat, fighting the nausea that overwhelms her when the car jerks at a stoplight.
After three missed calls and five rings on the fourth dial, the call finally gets through.
“Joowon, Joowon! Oh my god, I think I’m ready. I think I’m fucking ready, oh my god.”
A tired Joowon greets Jiwoo over the phone, having been rudely awoken from slumber, “Ready to what? Also, fuck you, what the fuck, Jiwoo, it’s like fucking 1 in the fucking morning, fuck!”
“I’m drunk, I’m soooooo drunk, I’m on a cab and everything’s spinning. But shit, I swear those diamonds I saw were real and beautiful, and they were on these circular things you put around Jungeun’s finger when you marry her…”
“Rings, Jiwoo. They’re called rings. And I’m not fucking marrying Kim Jungeun, ew, you are.”
“I AM! Joowon, you don’t understand, the circular thing with holes whatever you call those--”
“Rings, RINGS.”
“--were so shiny and so big and so damn expensive, I could never buy one, which makes me so sad because I want Jungeun to proudly wear it around you know? Like, I want it to say ‘Kim Jiwoo’s’ all over it. I want a hologram to appear that says ‘back the fuck off!’ to anyone who tries to hit on her. I want that pretty girl she’s working with to run away at the sight of it. I want it to leave scratches on the planes she’s fixing, you get me?”
“You have a very warped idea of rings and marriage in general when you’re drunk, did you know that?”
“I need to go home and tell her I wanna marry her, oh god, Joowon, but I think I’m gonna die. Everything is spinning.”
“How much did you drink?”
“Three cans of beer,” Joowon snorts before Jiwoo can finish the rest of her sentence, “and twenty two shots of soju. Also two glasses of red wine, I think? And five wine coolers. Fuck my kids, I’m so glad their exams are over.”
“Shit, you should be dead. Also I think you meant ‘fuck them kids’.”
“Fuck whose kids?”
Joowon has to hold in her laughter. “You’re hammered. Please put the taxi driver on the phone for me.”
“Wait, you know him?” Jiwoo sits up, utterly confused.
“No, stupid, I just want to make sure you told him to go to the right address.”
Jiwoo does indeed make it to the right address. She stumbles her way home, and even manages to wave to the security guard at the entrance to their apartment complex.
Two thoughts now occupy her mind:
- Must buy shiny circular thing. Put on Jungeun’s finger.
- Must not wake Jungeun up. Jungeun work tomorrow. Jungeun sleep.
Thought Number 2 dictates that she cannot, in any situation, for any rhyme or reason, move to the bed and risk waking her light-sleeping girlfriend up, so she drapes herself across the armchair, slobbering, and falls soundly asleep within minutes.
She wakes up to water and painkillers on the coffee table, a blanket draped over her, and the image of a ring imprinted at the forefront of her mind.
Two weeks later, she has a proposal thought out. It’s almost perfect to her, and she needs to only do a few tweaks, order the necessary stuff, and invite the right people along.
“You’re so cheesy, doing it on your anniversary. Who knows, she might be thinking of doing the same thing,” Joowon, ever the voice of random thoughts that seem to add nothing but fear and horror into Jiwoo’s life, suggests.
“You’re kidding,” Jiwoo replies, suddenly horrified at the idea that Jungeun might also be thinking of proposing to her. “Wait, that’s a nightmare. That is literally my biggest nightmare.”
“What’s your biggest nightmare?” Yeonjung looks up from her guitar, having been distracted from practicing the song Jiwoo is making her perfect for the big day.
“Jungeun proposing on their tenth anniversary.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet!” Yeonjung, ever the voice of words that don’t go through her mind first, coos. “Wait, but you’re also doing that… Oh! That’s why it’s a nightmare. I get it. That sucks.”
A notification on her phone breaks Jiwoo out from her momentary reverie, and puts her back into stunned silence once she reads it. Yeonjung and Joowon’s nosy selves move to sandwich Jiwoo, fighting to see the message.
loml: hey baby i got plans for our anniversary this year, maybe even a few surprises ;) get ready for it, and don’t sweat the planning because i got it all covered
“Well, that’s not ideal.”
Jiwoo, ever the voice of logic and reason, screeches at the top of her lungs.
She forgets to reply Jungeun, too caught up with her almost-perfect plan being ruined by a very romantic gesture on Jungeun’s part. It’s really sweet of her to plan their anniversary, truly, and Jiwoo feels so much love for her that it makes her even more excited to put that ring on her.
Except now she needs a new plan, which, fuck!
She can’t help but sulk, even in front of her girlfriend, and feels terrible when she turns down movie night with her to sleep instead. It eats at her, but she falls asleep before she can remember to apologise.
The next morning, she’s refreshed from a long night’s sleep, packed with inspiration on ways to pop the question. One particular dream sequence involved a horse, and she writes that down. No matter how weird the idea, they could always come to play in some way or another.
Still happy, she wakes her partner up with a series of soft kisses, and watches the way Jungeun’s initial flash of annoyance at being woken early on a Saturday melt away like butter on a hot pan. When she kisses back, finally, Jiwoo feels this weight in her chest lift slightly, yet still pushing on her heart.
The knowledge that she might be coming off as a little hot and cold towards Jungeun is what’s causing her heart to ache, because it’s hard to withhold things from her, and plan behind her back. They’ve always done everything together, from planning anniversaries to decorating their house. It has always been discussions and compromising; no getting on one knee out of the blue and just throwing the question out there, hoping she says yes. None of that.
Just wait a few more weeks, Jiwoo promises in her head.
But Jiwoo gets swarmed in the few weeks after that. She extends work on most days, having meetings about the musical and working with the kids, barely having any free time, if any at all. The only time she gets to herself is during lunch, and even that only lasts up to an hour a day. She’s almost tempted to get someone else to buy the ring she has in mind for her, but she decides that true sincerity comes in the form of dashing out of school and skipping lunch to buy that ring herself.
And of course, Jungeun’s ever-impeccable timing prompts her to call on the same day Jiwoo has set aside time to go to the jewelry store, and ask to have lunch together.
“NO! I mean, uh, don’t come to the school. I won’t be there. We’re on a field trip right now. Fuck,” Jiwoo swears, making sure to hold her phone as far away as she can so Jungeun can’t hear the last part.
“...I could have packed you some lunch.”
“It’s fine, I didn’t want you to wake up so early just to make me food. I’m a big girl.”
It absolutely kills Jiwoo inside to lie, but she has already enlisted help for her escapade to the jeweller’s, and Jiwoo reckons Jungeun can deal with eating lunch without her if it means she’s ultimately getting the best ring Jiwoo can find.
Haseul, Jungeun’s closest friend from university, has an excellent eye for the finer things in life, and a sweet tongue to go along with it. She surprises Jiwoo with the speed at which she helped her come to the conclusion of settling for a simple ring design. It’s well within budget, looks great on her own hand (yeah, she definitely is getting a matching one if Jungeun hasn’t bought one for her already), and is basically everything Jungeun would look for in a ring.
A silver band because it’s a classic, topped by a small diamond --small because Jungeun thinks money should be spent on better things (like charity) that aren’t useless jewelry, and a diamond regardless because Jungeun not only is a little hypocritical sometimes, she’s also a huge, lame romantic-- and finished off with the finest of carvings on the underside. Their initials, just because.
She gets dangerously close to getting found out one day, when Jungeun arranges her side of the wardrobe for her, and almost come in contact with the jacket pocket which she had slipped the velvet box into.
Jiwoo had distracted her with a sudden scream, and Jungeun turned and approached her worriedly, only for Jiwoo to pull “oh, I was just so in pain watching you do my chores for me” out of her ass.
Jungeun rolls her eyes, but lets Jiwoo hug her, and eventually laughs with her.
The next day isn’t the best, with Jungeun all dressed up and excited for a date she had spontaneously planned Jiwoo being no more enthusiastic for it than she was going to work every morning. You couldn’t blame her though, she was almost bursting at this point, and she fears she might crack if she spent a second too long looking at Jungeun’s ringless finger. Still, it’s disheartening to see Jungeun be so quiet, and she’s worried she might have hurt her feelings for real.
She thinks she’s doing a good job holding in how hard she wants to marry Jungeun, but then a week passes and the energy between them only gets tenser, and suffocatingly so.
And they reach today.
And Jungeun says all that.
And Jiwoo’s just thinking about how terrible of a girlfriend she must have been this whole time, how much she feels like crying for misleading Jungeun, how sorry she feels, and how much she wants to tell her that there is no way in hell Jungeun’s love for her isn’t mutual, not in the slightest.
“I spent the last few weeks convincing myself you no longer wanted me.”
“I know… I’m so sorry, I just wanted to keep the proposal from you, you know? We always plan everything together and we barely have surprises anymore. I think I might have taken it too far…”
“You think? No shit, Jiwoo! I thought you were breaking up with me!”
Jiwoo winces. She’s trying to search for things to say, but only apologies fall out of her lips. Jungeun busies herself with something on her phone, and for a second there, scares Jiwoo into thinking that she’s never going to be forgiven for this.
“There’s a bridal boutique that’s a 5-minute drive away from here and closes in 30 minutes.”
She feels her heart soar. “I haven’t even proposed yet.”
“You know my answer,” Jungeun groans in part-annoyance and part-satisfaction. Her eyes dip to the uneaten dessert between them, and then back up at Jiwoo.
They finish it within two bites, and make it to the boutique just early enough to browse through some dresses, grab some (one for Jungeun and twenty for Jiwoo) catalogs, and book an appointment for the day after. It’s a hilariously speeded up process, and Jiwoo has to force Jungeun into promising that she has to forget this night ever happened, because she’s still going through with her proposal.
Jungeun obliges, of course.
Exactly a week later, on the Saturday closest to their tenth anniversary of making it official, Jungeun gets serenaded by Yeonjung, handed flowers by Joowon, and her photos taken of by Yerim (who was in on the plan only a day before the proposal due to her being Jungeun’s second-best friend). Jiwoo wears a dress to propose to her girlfriend who’s wearing her best blazer, and to the onlooker it may seem like the roles have been reversed, but to the two who manage to exist in their own bubble even amongst their closest friends, it just makes a whole lot of sense.
Jiwoo’s teary-eyed “will you marry me?” is only rivalled by Jungeun’s wet and choked “yes, you idiot” as the moment of the night. The rest of their gang had looked on, holding back sobs of their own, while Yeonjung played “Paper Hearts” through her silent tears. Not the best song to play at a joyous occasion, sure, but it’s the song that made them happen, and Jiwoo sure as hell isn’t going to stop playing that song just because it has sad lyrics. Maybe it’s the confidence that she and Jungeun would last beyond what that of the protagonists in the song did.
When Jungeun pulls out the ring she got for her, it’s a silver band, topped by a small diamond, and their anniversary date engraved below, so yeah, she’s confident.
Even on their wedding date, Jiwoo still discovers new things about Jungeun, and that being that one of Jungeun’s many talents, is making their huge suite of a hotel room feel small.
"Babe, please stop pacing. It's really distracting." She knows Jungeun swam a lot as a kid, but that doesn't excuse her behaving like a goldfish in tank. She’s getting on her nerves, a rare occurrence as it is. And this is Jungeun. She's supposed to be putting the butterflies in Jiwoo's tummy, making her heart flutter till the end of time-- not letting her own butterflies run wild.
"You know those butterflies in your stomach? The ones you say you get when I come too close and we're not kissing yet? Or like when I'm between your legs and you make that face and I just know--"
"Babe, babe yeah I get it. Get to the point." The shop assistant that was staring finally looks away, closing her agape mouth. Jiwoo sighs, hands curling around Jungeun's wrists, trying to get her to stop gesturing.
"I have them like, right now. The butterflies. It's like they are trying to escape by flying out through my throat. Oh god. Jiwoo, Jiwoo, I wanna throw up."
Jungeun slumps into her body, letting her arms drape by her side while her head slams ungracefully into Jiwoo's shoulder. Even while being slightly annoyed by the constant whining, Jiwoo chuckles amusedly. She lets her hands slide across Jungeun's waist, pulling her in slowly until they're finally pressed closely together. The girl finally gets the cue, and wraps her arms around Jiwoo's neck.
"Let's call off the wedding."
"No, what? Don't be crazy!" Jungeun yells in surprise, pulling away so Jiwoo can see the horror in her eyes. “The guests are literally here already. I’m just nervous to death, no big deal.”
"You're stressing out and some stupid wedding isn't as important to me as you. As long as we're married who the fuck cares if we have a wedding?"
It's in that moment, when Jiwoo implies that her suggestion is all for her sake, that Jungeun decides that she'll never love anyone else again. Not in this life, not in the next one, or the one after that.
Dramatic, yes. Extremely. Can you blame her?
Her fiancé moves to hug her. Jungeun whines into her shoulder, feeling so much all at once. Jiwoo has grown a bit taller since high school had ended, meaning that over the course of their relationship Jungeun has experienced being both the big spoon and the little one. She likes both, don't get her wrong, but something about being at the center of Jiwoo's attention and touches like no one else can is a definitively spiritual experience. Such catharsis, she can get nowhere else.
“You know what, I think I’ll be okay.”
“You sure?” Jiwoo asks, still tenderly rubbing her back. “We really don’t have to do this. I bought marriage insurance.”
“No, you didn’t. There’s no such thing! And even if there was you would never, because you know I would never leave you at the altar.” Jiwoo laughs at her indignant sincerity. “God, I really wanna marry you so bad.”
“We’re already married, stupid. Recognised by the laws of the land and whatever.”
“Yeah but it hits different when everyone sees it, you know?”
“‘Hits different’... Really? I might call off the wedding now,” Jiwoo jokes.
“No way, I’m not letting you do that,” Jungeun tells her quietly, “I’m not letting you ruin the best day of my life. No way.”
“Today’s the best day of your life? Are we really forgetting that day we ate that wagyu beef that just melted in our mouths…”
“Oh yeah, that’s such a close second. Best meal I ever had.” They both hum distractedly, chuckling when their eyes meet. That beef was good, but they’re both thinking about that beautiful night five years ago at that steakhouse where they first decided to move in together. And exactly a year later, they did, and it was the best decision they could make for themselves at that time.
That’s a lot of ‘best’s, but no one here is really complaining.
“Best discussion we ever had about anything, over the best beef we will ever have. And the best decision we ever made. Best house we could have bought. You, the best person to share a bed with.”
Jungeun protests, “ Only person you will ever share a bed with!”
“Aren’t we past the stage of being jealous and possessive already?”
“We are! I’m just… claiming my territory. I heard some girls love that.”
Now it’s Jiwoo’s turn to act upset. Her frown deepens. “It’s ‘girl’. GIRL, singular. Only I have the right to love that.”
“Fine, ‘girl’. You’re the best girl, the best thing that ever happened to me, my best friend, best girlfriend, and the best thing I ever did was choosing to love you.”
Jiwoo replies her with a kiss.
“I think the best thing I ever did was well, that too, but also marrying you. No, wait, meeting you. Or kissing you. Confessing to you on that bus!” Jiwoo pouts, but it morphs into a grin that is dopey, loving and all things wonderful. “I honestly can’t choose.”
The woman in front of her, stunning in her black tux, long brown hair and red lipstick, glows upon hearing that. She lets Jiwoo adjust her tie, and soaks in the familiarity of her closeness, yet the ever-fluttering in her chest. Now that’s the kind of ache she won’t ever want to stop experiencing.
It’s easy for Jungeun to shrink away from choosing as well. How could she, when the best thing she has ever done is all of those things? Meeting Jiwoo, pining on her, confessing to her, letting her adjust her tie, adjusting hers, loving her, dating her, kissing her, and eventually marrying her. And if time allows for it, she is undoubtedly adding “spending all her life with Jiwoo” to that growing list of things.
“Actually, now that you’ve said all that,” Jungeun boasts in a lie, “I think I know for sure what the best thing I ever did was.”
Jiwoo scrunches her nose, doubtful but curious to hear her wife’s answer. She’s running the possibilities through her head. Singing “Paper Hearts” like a lovesick fool while staring at Jiwoo the whole time? Formulating elaborate plans to get her attention? Confessing back to her confession? Saying yes to marrying her?
“What is it then, the best thing you ever did?”
“You,” Jungeun replies.
The way Jiwoo’s smile turns into a malicious frown is terrifying yet endearing, and Jungeun rethinks her decision to have made that joke in such a tender moment.
Nah.
She shrugs her metaphorical shoulders, laughing when Jiwoo punches her repeatedly on the arm. It was a good joke. Totally worth ruining a moment they were having no matter how sweet or tender.
And even if Jiwoo is indeed mad at her, she has the rest of her life to make up for it, anyway.
There’s a knock on the door, telling them it’s time. They look at each other, hand-in-hand, ready as they’ll ever be to begin this next stage of their lives.