Work Text:
I’m an idiot, Jeongyeon thinks, hissing as she touches her sunburned skin. This job was supposed to be easy and mindless. Instead, she finds herself horribly sunburnt an hour into the first day.
She stomps over to her bag and fishes out the sunscreen, wincing at the brush of fabric against her skin. Her sister had warned her to use sunscreen even on cloudy days, yes, but the sky was covered in clouds when Jeongyeon had walked outside this morning. It wasn’t her fault the sun had broken through when she wasn’t looking.
She finishes applying sunscreen to the back of her neck with a sigh. It's likely too little too late, but she'd do what she could to prevent her skin getting any redder than it already is. She has about 30 minutes left at most.
"Ms. Yoo, I hope your first day is going well."
Jeongyeon stiffens, turning around to face the source of the voice and dropping into a shallow bow. "Mr. Park," she says, raising back up to her full height. "It is, thank you. I should be done shortly."
The man before her is dressed in a suit that looks more expensive than Jeongyeon's car. His hair is slicked back, artfully crafted to give off an aura of money and power, as if the pricey watch adorning his wrist isn't enough. He looks just as intimidating as he did when Jeongyeon came in for her interview.
"Excellent," he says, giving a sharp nod. "You'll just be missing my daughter's return from university, I believe."
"Ah," Jeongyeon says, nodding in a way that she hopes conveys sincere interest. "I'm sure I'll cross paths with her eventually."
"You might, or you might not. Between her internship and other social engagements, she’ll likely be rather busy. Summer is a key social season, you understand?" Once again, Jeongyeon nods. This time, she tilts her head to the side and hums — like these words make complete sense, like she isn’t so far removed from the economic elite of her town that Mr. Park might as well be speaking French.
Mr. Park looks at her for another long moment, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. He nods and turns, but right as Jeongyeon allows her spine to return to its preferred curved position, he pivots sharply on his heel. "Ms. Yoo. I would like to ask a small favor of you."
Jeongyeon manages to grapple with the squeak that threatens to leave her mouth and forces it into a silent gasp. “Yes, sir?”
“Do me a favor and keep an eye on Jihyo this summer.” Mr. Park’s eyes look out over the freshly cleaned pool. “She’s always been rather...willful, and I would appreciate knowing that someone is looking out for her while I’m at work. ”
“Mr. Park, I—”
“I’m not asking you to babysit her,” Mr. Park interjects. “Merely that you make note of any odd behaviors.”
Jeongyeon swallows heavily, resisting the urge to fiddle with her hands. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t know what’s normal for your daughter.”
A pause. Jeongyeon begins to worry that she had crossed some sort of invisible rich people etiquette line. Then, Mr. Park lets out a low chuckle, seemingly unoffended. “Excellent point, Ms. Yoo. Simply let me know if my daughter seems to be doing anything unsavory. Yes?”
“Of course, sir,” Jeongyeon lies. You fucking suck, she doesn’t say. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”
“Good.” Mr. Park nods, turning around and walking swiftly back into his house.
Jeongyeon stares after him for a moment before remembering that she has a job to finish. She turns to look at the skimmer she had left leaning against the diving board. One last sweep of the filter and check of the pool, and then she’d be set.
//
Her second week of working for the Parks goes better than the first for several reasons. First, all she has to do this week is vacuum the pool floor and test the water. Easy. It takes 15 minutes.
The second reason is that no one interrupts her. She sees no sign of Mr. Park or his very “socially engaged” daughter, though she does notice a light purple pool towel on a chair. She has an inkling that it’s not Mr. Park’s. She can’t really imagine Mr. Park ever relaxing enough to use his pool, let alone dry himself off with a lilac towel.
Third, she applies sunscreen before she leaves her sister’s house, and she leaves the Park’s place without a trace of sunburn.
The second week is exactly as it should be. She almost feels bad about how much Mr. Park is paying her for such simple work, but one look at his eight-car garage is enough to assuage any guilt.
The third week, she meets Jihyo, and nothing is ever really the same after that.
Jeongyeon is already done for the day when it happens, heading towards the gate leading to the driveway. She’s not paying that much attention to her surroundings, too focused on the song playing in her ears and the knowledge that she’d be seeing her dogs in 20 minutes.
“Hi!” A loud voice breaks Jeongyeon out of her thoughts. She turns, startled, yanking her headphones out of her ears.
Jihyo, Jeongyeon thinks.
“That’s me,” Jihyo says, and, with a rush of embarrassment, Jeongyeon realizes that she must’ve said the other woman’s name aloud. Jihyo extends her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Jeongyeon. My father has spoken kindly of you.”
Jeongyeon realizes three things as she stiffly places her hand in Jihyo’s. First, Jihyo is alarmingly pretty. Second, her hand is very soft. Third, Jeongyeon is absolutely not prepared to suddenly meet her boss’ very pretty daughter.
“You too,” Jeongyeon manages, pulling her arm back just a bit too forcefully. She throws Jihyo a quick smile. “I gotta jet.” She doesn’t give Jihyo time to respond, pivoting on her heel and heading to the gate.
“I gotta jet,” Jeongyeon spits out as she speed walks to her car. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Yoo?”
She opens the door to her car, almost tripping over her own feet in her haste to get into the driver’s seat. For a moment, she contemplates looking back at the house to see if Jihyo is watching her, but the embarrassment that could bring is too much.
Jeongyeon starts her car and pulls away without a second glance back at the Parks’ house, trying to ignore the way her heart feels like it’s going to punch out of her chest. She spends the drive back to her sister’s place resisting the urge to slam her head into her steering wheel.
//
Jeongyeon hopes that Mr. Park’s words ring true, and that her meeting with Jihyo last week is to be her final one for the remainder of her summer. The sooner she never sees Jihyo again, the sooner she can begin suppressing the memory of their first meeting.
She makes note of a now-familiar purple towel hanging over a deck chair when she first enters the backyard, but she hopes that’s not an indication of whether or not Jihyo will be around.
It’s been a stormy week, so it takes Jeongyeon a good twenty minutes to finish cleaning out the pool. She’s heading around the corner of the pool house to get to the filter when she hears the sound of the backdoor sliding open.
“Jeongyeon?” It’s Jihyo, and Jeongyeon knows that she has no choice but to face her again. The hose is on the other side of the yard, and there’s no way she can make it across the yard without Jihyo seeing her.
She grabs the pool filter and strides out from behind the pool house, doing her best impression of someone who’s not currently besieged by anxiety. Jeongyeon’s stomach jumps when she sees Jihyo, and it jumps again when Jihyo’s eyes immediately find hers, a smile blooming on the other woman’s face.
“Hi,” Jihyo calls out, waving. There’s a cup of something that looks like lemonade in her hand, and Jeongyeon’s throat itches for a drink from her own water bottle.
“Hello,” Jeongyeon says, waving. To her dismay, Jihyo begins walking her way. As she comes closer, Jeongyeon notices the white cover-up she’s wearing and how sheer it looks in the sunlight. Her face heats up, because even almost-paralyzing anxiety can’t block out the effect of a pretty woman in a swimsuit.
Jihyo looks fresh-faced and put together, short brown hair brushing the base of her neck with each step. Jeongyeon is wearing jean shorts and a light button-up over a tank top. She’s drenched in sweat, something she fruitlessly tries to hide by pushing her hair back and casually fanning her face with her hand.
“Here.” Jihyo extends the glass. “I was inside having lunch, and it looked like you could use this.”
“Oh. Thank you.” Jeongyeon takes the glass, flinching slightly when her fingers brush against Jihyo’s palm. “I’m sorry you had to have your lunch ruined by the sight of a sweaty pool girl raking leaves.”
Jihyo’s laugh isn’t what Jeongyeon would’ve guessed it to be. She would’ve wagered on a polite socialite’s giggle, a half-smile hidden behind a delicate hand. Instead, Jihyo laughs open-mouthed and loud, and it pulls at the corner of Jeongyeon’s lips until she finds herself smiling too.
“Please,” Jihyo says, gesturing to Jeongyeon. “You pull off sweaty well. I, on the other hand, look like a disaster after going to the gym. Besides, it’s nice talking to someone my own age.”
Jeongyeon skips over the part of Jihyo’s sentence that makes her want to duck away. “Aren’t there other interns at work?” Jihyo raises a questioning eyebrow. “Your father ran me through your summer plans on my first day.”
Jihyo lets out a groan. “I’m so sorry. He means well. He’s just a bit…much. What exactly did he tell you?”
Jeongyeon presses the cool glass to her neck as she answers, welcoming the brief reprieve from the heat of the summer sun. “Not that much. Just that you had an internship and other social things to do. Said I probably wouldn’t be seeing you much this summer.” Jeongyeon swallows before continuing. “That’s why I was so surprised to see you last week.”
A silence follows that makes Jeongyeon squirm, and she wonders if she should’ve just never mentioned their first meeting. Jihyo’s eyes are slightly unfocused, fixed to a point below Jeongyeon’s eye level that they don’t move from until Jeongyeon finally takes a sip from the lemonade.
The bright taste washes over her tongue, and Jeongyeon perks up. “This is really good!” Her voice seems to snap Jihyo out of whatever stupor she had fallen into.
“I’m glad.” Jihyo smiles, highlighting the red that dusts her cheeks. Jeongyeon really hopes she had the foresight to put sunscreen on before coming out here. With this heat, she wouldn’t be surprised if it only takes a few minutes for Jihyo’s face to begin reddening. “I’ll let you get back to cleaning and stuff. I don’t want to keep you from your other clients.”
Jeongyeon runs her fingers through her hair, hoping that it will help her maintain her calm but wincing when she’s once again reminded of just how sweaty she is. “I don’t have other clients, actually. I kinda just saw your dad’s ad in the paper and figured I’d give it a shot.”
“Oh.” Jihyo seems surprised, and for some reason it makes Jeongyeon want to smile. “What do you do during the week?”
“A couple different part time jobs. Trying to save up for my next semester of college, you know?” The moment those words leave her mouth, she knows she’s misspoken. Jihyo does not know. In fact, from what she knows of Mr. Park’s business, Jihyo has never known what it’s like to need to save money for something.
She feels stupid, but then Jihyo smiles kindly at her. “Well I hope your other jobs are out of the sun, at least.”
Jeongyeon chuckles. “They are. Waitressing and bartending keep me blissfully inside.” The more she speaks, the more she’s aware of the difference between them, and it’s maybe for that reason that she keeps speaking. Jeongyeon doesn’t know why, but she doesn’t want Jihyo to think of her as a simple part-timer. “I like photography, though, and that takes me outside a bit more.”
“Photography.” The word stretches a smile across Jihyo’s mouth. “That’s awesome! I’ve always thought photographers were impressive.”
Jeongyeon takes a long sip of lemonade to give herself a moment to respond. “I’m really nothing special, but it’s fun.”
“You’ll have to show me sometime.”
“I can do that.”
They stand and smile at each other for several seconds until Jihyo breaks the silence. “I’ll let you get back to it, but it was nice properly meeting you Jeongyeon. Enjoy the lemonade.”
“Thank you.” Jeongyeon raises her glass slightly. “Enjoy your lunch.”
Needless to say, her second meeting with Jihyo goes much better than the first.
//
Jeongyeon’s nerves return the next time she goes back to the Parks’. She’s not nervous about embarrassing herself in front of Jihyo again (mostly). She’s just indescribably nervous in a way that tickles at the back of her mind, but thankfully not in a way that causes her to flinch and drop the pool brush into the water when she hears Jihyo call her name.
Jihyo moves towards her, lemonade in hand. Jeongyeon takes her in as she rounds the pool to meet Jihyo halfway. Jihyo, much to Jeongyeon’s relief, is wearing neither a bikini nor a sheer coverup. She still looks beautiful in jean shorts and a loose tank top, but in a way Jeongyeon can handle.
“Hi,” Jihyo says, smiling. “How’re you?”
“I’m good, thank you, and thank you for the drink.” Jeongyeon lifts the lemonade in a small ‘cheers’ motion. “You? How’s work and social engagements?” Jihyo immediately rolls her eyes, making Jeongyeon laugh. “No fun?”
“Never fun,” Jihyo sighs, shaking her head. “But I don’t want to talk about that. It’s not important. What about you? Take any interesting photos? Serve any fun customers?”
“A couple,” Jeongyeon answers, thinking of how beautiful the sky had been last night. “And, unfortunately, also a couple,” she continues, thinking of the customer who had spent the entire night trying unsuccessfully to hit on every woman he saw.
Jihyo scrunches her nose. It’s adorable. “The look on your face tells me that you’re speaking of a very unfun fun.”
“Indeed.” Sometime during their conversation, they had drifted closer together, and now Jeongyeon’s nerves kick into gear. The twisting in her stomach is a bit softer this time, though, a fluttering that she can’t ignore. “The photos were actually fun, thankfully.”
The conversation continues, drifting from photography to a band Jihyo had recently discovered to Jeongyeon’s traumatic experience with trying to learn to play the saxophone. It’s when Jihyo’s hand lands on her arm, propelled there by Jihyo laughing at some stupid joke Jeongyeon had made, that Jeongyeon realizes they are far, far too close.
She had lost sight of the fluttering at some point, which meant that she had let her guard down and failed to notice how close they were getting. All at once, she’s aware of how wide the smile on her face is, and of the fact that she had met Jihyo’s touch with one of her own, her hand forming a loose circle around Jihyo’s wrist on her arm.
Jeongyeon panics, but does her best to conceal it. She goes to take a step back. “I should probably—”
The ground disappears. Panic crashes through her. Then the water rushes up to meet her, its cool touch unable to mask the pain now searing itself across her side.
Thankfully, the following two things are true: One, Jeongyeon is a pretty strong swimmer. Two, there’s a first aid kit in the pool house.
Unfortunately, the following two things are also true: One, Jihyo sees her fall into the pool. Two, the placement of the scrape she gets from the wall of the pool is in a spot on her back that she needs Jihyo’s help to reach.
“I’m sorry,” Jihyo whispers as Jeongyeon lets out yet another hiss at the press of the wipe to her skin. “This scrape is pretty large. I’m almost done!”
Jeongyeon says nothing, just swallows down a whimper and further buries her head in her hands, trying not to dwell on her embarrassment. She could, if pressed, come up with several better reasons Jihyo would have helped her take her shirt off while on the couch in the pool house than stepped backwards and instead of solid ground it was the pool.
The scrape on her side is a burning pain, but it pales in comparison to the anguish that Jeongyeon feels at having to be perceived in this moment.
“Thank you for helping me,” Jeongyeon manages, lifting her head from her hands. “I’m sorry.”
Jihyo’s hand alights on her shoulder, giving it a soothing rub. Jeongyeon feels her skin begin to hum. “You have nothing to apologize for, Jeongyeon. I should’ve been more aware of where we were standing.
Jeongyeon twists to face Jihyo, intending to disagree, but a flash of pain from her side stops her in her tracks. “Fuck.” It’s like hot needles being driven into her side in countless numbers, stealing her breath away and providing her no respite.
“Hey, hey.” Gentle hands cup her face. “Jeongyeon, I need you to breathe.” Jihyo speaks slowly and steadily. “The pain will fade. Breathe.” Jeongyeon tries to focus on the sweep of Jihyo’s thumb over her cheekbone and the way Jihyo’s voice hits her ears. It grounds her, allows her to wade through the pain until it returns to its former manageable throb.
“I—” Jeongyeon opens her eyes and her breath catches. Jihyo is closer than she’s ever been, furrowed concern to her brow as her fingers continue to move over Jeongyeon’s skin. They fall into a silence, Jihyo not inclined to say anything and Jeongyeon fully unable to. Jeongyeon can do nothing more than let her eyes slip shut, shying away from the soft and delicate thing lurking in Jihyo’s gaze.
“Are you feeling better?” Jeongyeon nods. Jihyo’s hands slip to cup her jaw. “I was able to finish cleaning it. I just need to put some sort of bandage over it and then you’re set.”
Jeongyeon takes a deep breath, bracing herself for seeing Jihyo’s face so close to hers. She opens her eyes and finds Jihyo a bit easier to handle this time. “Bandage me up then, doc.”
Jihyo laughs, pulling away, and Jeongyeon immediately wants her to come back. As it is, she manages to hold herself together until Jihyo has successfully wrapped the wound. It’s hard not to flinch when Jihyo’s fingers trail lightly across the skin covering her ribs, but she manages.
“Thank you for your help,” Jeongyeon says once she’s fully covered and standing a respectable distance away from Jihyo. “I just have to finish putting everything away, and I’ll get out of your hair.”
Jihyo steps in front of her, blocking her from leaving the room. “Absolutely not. You’re injured!”
Jeongyeon shakes her head. “Jihyo, it’s fine. I have a job to—”
“No. I’m more than capable of putting things away. Rest.” Jihyo crosses her arms, and the set of Jihyo’s jaw tells her all she needs to know about the chances of her changing Jihyo’s mind.
“Okay,” Jeongyeon relents. “I’m warning you, though. The storage room is kind of a hazard, and the rug in the hallway gets soaked and uncomfortably squishy.” Jihyo nods slowly, brows drawing down in concern. “I’ll grab my bags and head home to rest, then.”
To Jeongyeon’s surprise, Jihyo softens, suddenly unable to look Jeongyeon in the eye. “I was wondering, actually, if you wanted to hang here a bit. We can watch a movie or something. I’ll get the stuff later.” All Jeongyeon can do is gawk, thrown off by Jihyo’s shyness. “You don’t have to, obviously, but it would be nice to talk to someone who doesn’t care about balance sheets.”
Jeongyeon takes a step closer and tries to reassure Jihyo. “Well, I’d be happy to spend more time with you, but I did forget to mention that balance sheets are a passion of mine. Oh and don’t even get me started on accruals!” The joke works, Jihyo’s timidness melting into exasperation as she swats at Jeongyeon’s shoulder.
“Please, no more business vocabulary.” Jihyo steps past her, making her way towards the couch. “Now. Movie? Drama? Documentary? What do you want in the background as you tell me more about how my pool house sucks?”
Jeongyeon laughs sheepishly and settles on the couch, sure to keep at least a few feet of distance between them. “Surprise me.”
Jihyo raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that answer, but then she just chuckles and picks up the remote. “Be careful what you wish for.”
//
For once, Jeongyeon doesn’t have to wonder if Jihyo is home. She steps through the backyard gate and immediately notices that, for the first time, she sees someone actually using the pool.
She knows immediately that it’s Jihyo, and Jeongyeon allows herself a few seconds to admire how easily the other woman cuts through the water. It’s clear that Jihyo is no novice, moving from one end of the pool to the other with strong and smooth strokes.
She finds herself stuck halfway to the pool house, unable to tear her eyes away from the way the sunlight plays across Jihyo’s wet skin. It streaks golden across her back, catches the droplets of water in the air and turns them into mini suns. Even from where she’s standing, Jeongyeon can see the shift of muscles that propel Jihyo across the pool.
She shakes herself out of her stupor just as Jihyo completes a turn, and Jeongyeon has to bite her lip to stop herself from yelping when Jihyo’s eyes meet hers. Jihyo grins immediately, ducking under the water and swimming over to Jeongyeon’s side of the pool.
Jeongyeon goes to meet her, dropping her bag onto the grass. “Hello,” she greets when Jihyo’s capped and goggled head appears above the water. “Nice to see someone actually using the pool.”
Jihyo laughs, planting her hands on the side of the pool and hoisting herself out of the water. She reaches up and removes her swim cap and goggles. “I’ll have you know that I try and do laps every day. I just so happen to usually not swim when you’re here.”
Thank god for that, Jeongyeon almost says, feeling a flush steal over her as she takes in the sight before her. Instead: “You’re a pretty good swimmer.”
A mistake.
Jihyo smirks, suddenly playful. “Were you watching me swim?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jeongyeon says, rolling her eyes. She’s thankful Jihyo can’t hear how quickly her heart is beating. “Like I said, I was just surprised to see someone actually using the pool.”
“Okay.” Jihyo takes a step forward. “It’s okay if you were, though.” To that Jeongyeon has no response, and she can only stand and watch as Jihyo walks away, smug grin in place.
The next half-hour only serves to further fray Jeongyeon’s nerves. For starters, everywhere she looks, Jihyo is. She glances up from sweeping the perimeter of the pool: Jihyo is there mindlessly ruffling her hair as she flips through a magazine. She does a quick scan of the diving board to check for flaws: Jihyo climbs into the water directly across from her, making it impossible for Jeongyeon to miss the way the water slips over her skin.
She’s slower as a result, fiddling with her testing kit because her face is still burning at the wink Jihyo had thrown her from across the pool. It feels like she’s being flirted with, but Jeongyeon knows better than to project her own feelings onto someone else. Not that she’s really flirting with Jihyo, but if she was confident enough to, she might be.
By now, she’s well aware of the fact that she has a small crush on her boss’ daughter. It had been undeniable after last week, where they had spent the majority of a 2 hour movie talking. Jeongyeon couldn’t name a single character if she tried, but she could list Jihyo’s favorite hobbies (gaming, knitting, singing).
In short, she likes everything she knows about Jihyo, who just so happens to be a smart, funny, and gorgeous woman who just so happens to be around Jeongyeon in a swimsuit a lot. As far as Jeongyeon is concerned, a small crush is inevitable.
Jeongyeon does one last scan of the storage room to make sure everything is stacked as securely as it can be before turning to leave. She winces as she walks over the now-soggy carpet in the hallway.
Jihyo intercepts her as she steps out of the pool house. She looks like she just climbed out of the pool, and Jeongyeon feels a now familiar thrill of attraction. “Did you survive the haunted house that is my pool house,” she teases.
“Hey now.” Jeongyeon crosses her arms. “That storage room is an accident waiting to happen,” she insists. “Getting a bucket is like playing Jenga! I’m injured, you know? I’m very delicate.” It’s meant as a joke, but a look of shock and concern steals over Jihyo’s face.
“Is your scrape still bothering you? Do you have it bandaged? Can I see it?" Each question brings Jihyo closer, until her hands are reaching out for the hem of Jeongyeon’s shirt.
Jeongyeon’s hands wrap quickly yet gently around Jihyo’s wrists. “I’m fine! It still pulls a bit when I move a certain way, but it’s mostly healed.”
Jihyo gives her a skeptical look. “Has someone been helping you clean it?”
“My sister has. Promise.” Jihyo relaxes, but her fingers stay curled in the hem of Jeongyeon’s shirt. Jeongyeon is pretty sure her shirt is going to be damp by the time this conversation is over, but she doesn’t have it in herself to care when Jihyo is this close. The concern in her eyes is genuine, and it sparks a warmth in Jeongyeon.
It’s always nice to be cared after.
Jeongyeon lifts her hands from Jihyo’s wrists and slides them up until her fingers are covering Jihyo’s own. “For peace of mind,” she says, offering what she hopes is a steady smile. She lifts Jihyo’s hands until she feels the sun warming the skin of her stomach and lower back. For a moment, Jihyo doesn’t move, eyes locked to their intertwined hands.
Jeongyeon pulls her hands away. “Sorry,” she says, through strained laughter. “You can have your hands back.”
Jihyo’s fingers twist further into her shirt before relaxing. “It’s okay.” Jihyo’s voice is reassuring, and the smile she sends Jeongyeon is even more so. “I didn’t mind.”
This isn’t anything , Jeongyeon tells herself. She can’t avoid the fluttering in her chest or the heat spreading across her cheeks, but she can at least keep her brain in line.
It takes everything for Jeongyeon not to shiver when Jihyo eventually touches her. Her eyes are trained across the pool, and she had expected Jihyo’s touch to focus on the scrape itself. Instead, Jihyo’s touch begins along the curve of her waist, several inches away from where the scrape is.
As Jihyo’s fingers begin a slow walk to where the scrape is, Jeongyeon feels more and more like she’s dreaming. She can hear Jihyo saying something about how well it’s healing, but the words fail to penetrate the formless buzzing now filling her ears. All she can think about is the electricity humming underneath her skin and the smell of Jihyo’s perfume mixing with the smells of chlorine and sunscreen.
It’s the feeling of her shirt dropping back down that brings her back to the present, and it’s then that she realizes that she’s breathing a bit faster than normal. Her mouth clamps shut immediately, desperately hoping Jihyo would read it as Jeongyeon just being tired. Unfortunately, there’s nothing she can do about the pounding in her chest.
Jihyo calls her attention. “Jeongyeon.” It sounds different. Normally when Jihyo says her name, it’s easy. Simple. Jeongyeon likes how Jihyo says her name. This time, the syllables are taut, as if Jihyo had to fight to get them out.
Jeongyeon looks down and realizes that maybe she hadn’t been imagining things. Jihyo is close, noticeably close. Undeniably on purpose close. Close enough that all Jeongyeon can think about is how easy it would be to kiss her.
Jihyo’s gaze flickers between Jeongyeon’s lips and her eyes. Jeongyeon holds her breath as if it will suspend this moment between them.
She never quite figures out which one of them moves first, but they fall into each other so quickly that it can be nothing but a joint effort.
Their first kiss is a little too hard. Jihyo’s lips press a bit too tightly against her own, and their noses don’t quite fit in the rapidly shrinking space between them. Jeongyeon wouldn’t have it any other way. The feeling of Jihyo kissing her back sends a wave of relief crashing over her, snapping the band of tension that had been wrapped around her chest.
Jeongyeon knows this is the type of kiss that often precedes a second, better-executed kiss, but she can’t quite bring herself to pull away. It isn’t until the sharp sting of oxygen deprivation begins to build in her lungs that she finally relents and pulls back.
She wants to say something, anything, but all she can do is look at Jihyo. Jihyo looks back, eyes wide and lips parted. Drops of water bead on her skin, slide along her hair. She leans in again, cups Jeongyeon's cheek, and—
Their second kiss is perfect.
Jihyo's lips press against hers with an urgency that burns away any hesitation in Jeongyeon's mind. She forgets that she's supposed to be on her way home. Forgets that she absolutely should not be kissing her employer's daughter. Forgets that, once summer draws her final breath, Jihyo will leave.
She knows, as Jihyo's fingers tangle in her hair and as her lips catch between Jeongyeon's, that she will never forget this moment. Her hands touch Jihyo's waist, slipping slightly as they try to find purchase against slick and sunwarmed skin.
The swipe of a tongue across her bottom lip. Jeongyeon's back meeting the pool house wall. She pushes back against Jihyo, not to resist her but to get closer. Jihyo's weight settles more fully against her and Jeongyeon can barely think, lungs tightening from lack of oxygen, but she can't imagine pulling away.
"We really shouldn't be doing this," Jihyo mutters in between kisses, and, for just a moment, the world rushes in. One of Jihyo’s hands flutters about Jeongyeon’s neck, thumb pressing into the curve of her jaw and tilting her head back.
"We—" Jeongyeon's response is cut off by her gasp, by the feeling of Jihyo’s lips on her throat. Each kiss sends sparks down Jeongyeon’s spine, making her grip harder at Jihyo’s hips. Jihyo kisses a path up Jeongyeon’s neck and back to her lips, stopping occasionally to tease skin between her teeth in a way that makes Jeongyeon’s head spin. Despite the flames curling low in her stomach, though, she can’t hold back a laugh once Jihyo’s lips meet hers again.
Jihyo pulls back slightly. “What,” she asks, breathless.
Jeongyeon’s eyes flutter open, momentarily shuttering when she accidentally looks directly at the sun. “You taste like sunscreen,” Jeongyeon chuckles, licking her lips. Through sun-spotted eyes, she sees Jihyo’s gaze follow the motion.
Jihyo’s eyes widen in surprise, a grin that makes Jeongyeon want to kiss her again blooming on her face. “The taste of safety.”
Jeongyeon laughs quietly, a short huff of air through her nose. “Not the best taste for making out.”
“Well,” Jihyo drawls, drifting closer, “you’ll have to get used to it, because I’d kind of like to keep kissing you.”
Jeongyeon says nothing, just leans in to meet Jihyo halfway. She closes her eyes, a phantom image of the sun decorating the inside of her eyelids. Jihyo’s lips meet hers and the sun explodes into a shower of stars.
//
“I have something for you. Wait here.”
“What,” Jeongyeon asks breathlessly as she watches Jihyo slide off her and make her way into the house. Jeongyeon’s head's still spinning from the makeout session that started the second Jeongyeon walked in through the back gate. There had been no false pretenses. The moment Jihyo saw Jeongyeon, she had walked over with a sway in her hips and an unmistakable gleam in her eyes.
Jeongyeon tries to recenter herself as she waits for Jihyo to come back from wherever she’s gone. She can still feel the phantom weight of Jihyo’s body on top of her, pressing Jeongyeon down into the pool chair they had ended in. The warm, almost uncomfortable throb that sits low in her stomach serves as a reminder that, yes, Jeongyeon had indeed been running her hands over Jihyo for the last thirty minutes instead of actually working.
She lies there for at least another minute, slowly running her thumb over her lower lip and replaying the last half-hour in her mind. With a start, Jeongyeon realizes that she absolutely does not want Jihyo to come back out here and find her in a lust-addled state.
Jeongyeon stands, looking around the pool area and pausing when she sees the amount of leaves in the pool. She takes a step forward and then another. She doesn’t know how long Jihyo is going to be gone, and she really does need to—
“Please don’t tell me you were actually going to start doing work, Yoo Jeongyeon.”
Jeongyeon whirls around, defense at the ready. “I was just going to do some skimming! You didn’t say what you were doing.” She stops when she notices what Jihyo has in her hands. “Is that a camera?”
“It is. My father got it for me on a whim a few years ago,” Jihyo says, smiling as she holds it out for Jeongyeon to take. “I was hoping I could see you take some pictures.”
Jeongyeon turns the camera over in her hands, aware of just how much money she’s holding. It’s a model Jeongyeon has more than once dreamed about getting to own one day. It figures that it would be sitting in Jihyo’s house collecting dust. She fiddles with the aperture dial, enjoying the click as she spins to a new setting.
“Do I have to start getting jealous of a camera?”
Jihyo’s voice is playful, and Jeongyeon looks up with a laugh. “It’s a very nice camera. What can I say? Did you have something in mind for pictures?”
“No.” Jihyo shakes her head, stepping closer. Jeongyeon really wants to kiss her again, camera be damned. “I just want to see you at work. What’s your favorite thing to take pictures of?”
Jeongyeon looks up, takes in the endless sea of blue that sits above her. She turns her neck a bit more, wincing slightly when the sun hits her eyes. “That,” she says, pointing to the sky with her chin. “Though usually I take photos at dawn or dusk. I take other photos, obviously, but the sun and sky are my favorites. I have special filters for it and everything.”
She feels something brush against her stomach and looks down to see that, contrary to what she assumed, Jihyo was not following Jeongyeon in gazing up at the sky. Jihyo was looking at her instead, a small smile on her lips. Jeongyeon’s eyes flit away on instinct, landing on the pool chair they had occupied several minutes prior.
“You’re cute,” Jihyo murmurs, and Jeongyeon rolls her lips together, feeling her ears burn. “What about a sunset?”
“What about it,” Jeongyeon asks, still not meeting Jihyo’s gaze.
“Could you take a picture of tonight’s sunset?”
“If you want me to stay until 8, yes.”
Jihyo smiles. “I’m sure we can entertain ourselves until then.” She tugs on Jeongyeon’s shirt. “But I have a feeling you’re going to insist on actually working before we hang out.”
“We’ve already ‘hung out’,” Jeongyeon deadpans, pointing to the blossoming bruise on her neck. “But yes, I would like to actually do my job.”
Jihyo rolls her eyes, letting out an over-exaggerated sigh. “Fine. Come inside when you’re done?”
“You got it.”
A quick kiss and Jihyo is gone, leaving Jeongyeon to collect the pieces of her focus so that she can get to work.
All told, it takes Jeongyeon about 45 minutes to finish for the day, a time not helped by the fact that she would randomly find her mind drifting away from the task at hand and to the woman inside the house. She manages, though.
“Jihyo?” Jeongyeon steps into the house, shivering at the air-conditioned air that rushes to meet her. “I’m done with the pool.”
She follows the sound of her name through an unmistakably opulent house, almost bumping into several pieces of furniture as something or other distracts her. She steps into what must be the kitchen and smiles when she sees Jihyo pouring two glasses of lemonade.
“For you.”
“Thank you. It’s fascinating to see the lemonade inside the house.”
Jihyo raises an eyebrow. “Does being inside while drinking ₩50,000-a-bottle lemonade enhance the taste?”
Jeongyeon splutters, all but slamming her glass onto the counter. “Drinking what?”
Jihyo regards her a moment longer before bursting into laughter. “God, I wish I had filmed that. You looked so horrified.”
Jeongyeon crosses her arms. “Listen.” Jihyo raises an eyebrow. “You suck.” She softens her words by walking closer to Jihyo. “Now enough bullying me. How was your week?”
Jihyo immediately deflates. “Not worth talking about, honestly.”
“Come on,” Jeongyeon prompts. “I feel like I only know half of you. What do you even do at work?”
“You don’t.”
“I’m sorry?” Jeongyeon furrows her brow. “I don’t what?”
Jihyo sighs heavily, fiddling with the glass in front of her. “You don’t know only half of me. The person I am at work is...not me. You’re not missing anything by not knowing anything about her.”
Jeongyeon almost lets an I want to know all of you fall from her lips, but that feels like far too much far too fast. Instead: “Well how about we go watch that office drama until the sun starts to set, and you can tell me if any of the characters remind me of your coworkers.”
Jihyo lets out a laugh. “Let’s do it.”
They do, settling onto the couch and letting the next several hours pass in a pleasant haze of cheesy comedy and each other’s company. When the sky finally begins to darken, they untangle themselves from each other and make their way outside.
“I am ready to be amazed,” Jihyo declares.
Jeongyeon momentarily stops fiddling with the camera to shoot Jihyo a skeptical look. “I hate to break it to you, but watching someone take pictures really isn’t all that entertaining. In a second, I’ll be done making the adjustments I need, and then I’ll just point and shoot.”
“Oh, is that all?” Jihyo saunters over with a performative haughtiness. “I could do that.”
Jeongyeon tamps down a smile. “Go on, then.” She passes Jihyo the camera. “It is yours after all.”
Jihyo falters. “The whole point was for me to watch you take photos!”
Jeongyeon nudges the camera into Jihyo’s hand. “I know, but it doesn’t make sense for me to use your camera before you ever do. Just one photo, and then I’ll dazzle you by clicking a button.”
Jihyo relents when Jeongyeon begins to pout. “Fine, but you’re lining up the shot.”
“Can do.” Jeongyeon points at the setting sun. “Point it there and click.” Jihyo’s baleful glare tells her that her joke is severely underappreciated, and Jeongyeon steps behind Jihyo with a laugh.
“Here,” Jeongyeon says. She gently wraps her hands around Jihyo’s, guiding her arms until the camera is pointed to the correct spot. Jeongyeon drops her chin to rest on the top of Jihyo’s head, pointing at the LCD screen. “Now, because your camera is fancy, you can use this screen to preview what your picture will look like, so focus on that.” Jihyo nods, leaning back into Jeongyeon’s arms. She lets one of her arms drop, carelessly wrapping it around Jihyo’s waist as she continues to talk. “Earlier, what I was doing was adjusting all the different settings this camera has to take the best photo.”
She feels Jihyo take a breath. “Frame the shot for me?”
Jeongyeon exhales a laugh. “I have to do everything around here, huh?” She slips her thumb under the hem of Jihyo’s shirt, rubbing slow circles as she takes a moment to examine the sun’s location in the sky. She extends her free hand out, pointing at the sun. “You want this in the bottom third of your shot, so raise the camera a bit more. Then, you want to let it focus and—”
Jeongyeon’s cut off by the sound of the shutter, and she lets out a laugh when she sees the final result on the LCD screen. She doesn’t even get a chance to comment on the fact that her finger is in the shot and how off the focus is before Jihyo spins around to face her.
The sunset frames her beautifully, and Jeongyeon is just beginning to contemplate snagging the camera from Jihyo when Jihyo’s lips meet her in a heated kiss. It catches Jeongyeon off guard for just a moment before she returns the kiss with equal enthusiasm. Fire licks up Jeongyeon’s spine as Jihyo presses closer, fingers clawing at Jeongyeon’s hips.
Jihyo breaks the kiss first, lips reddened, and Jeongyeon swears she has never before seen a sky as beautiful as this one.
The sun, she thinks, as Jihyo leans back in, blocking out everything in Jeongyeon’s view until she is all that Jeongyeon can see.
Jihyo pulls Jeongyeon into her by the collar of her shirt, letting out a whimper as Jeongyeon gently bites her bottom lip. The sun.
“I think,” Jihyo manages in between kisses, “that we should continue this in my room.”
(Later, when they’ve shed their clothes and Jihyo hovers over her with a tender and reassuring smile on her lips, Jeongyeon will find it in herself to be nervous. But for now, she feels completely at ease.)
“Lead the way,” she says, pressing another kiss to the underside of Jihyo’s jaw.
Jihyo pulls herself away, grabbing Jeongyeon’s hand and beginning to walk with a speed Jeongyeon would find laughable if she didn’t feel the same eagerness and excitement coursing through her veins. They stumble into Jihyo’s bedroom, and Jeongyeon barely gets a chance to look around before Jihyo is pushing her onto the bed. Jeongyeon offers no resistance, fully surrendering.
“I should go,” Jeongyeon inevitably says, reluctantly beginning to pull herself away from Jihyo. She’d much rather stay in bed with a sleepy and sated Jihyo in her arms, but she knows they don’t have the luxury. “I don’t want to have to make up an excuse for your dad as to why I’m leaving his home at 10pm.”
A hand wraps around her wrist, tugging her back. “He’s not coming back until Sunday evening. You can stay if you want.”
Jeongyeon settles back down, taking in the earnest look on Jihyo’s face. “Do you want me to? I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
Jihyo laughs. “Jeongyeon, I made you stay until the evening so that you could take a picture of the sunset. I wouldn’t do that if I was sick of you.”
“I know, but that was before we…” Jeongyeon trails off, gesturing between their naked bodies.
“Had sex,” Jihyo offers with a teasing grin.
Jeongyeon pointedly refuses to meet Jihyo’s gaze. “Yes.”
Jihyo lifts her hand, runs her fingers through the ends of Jeongyeon’s hair. “I liked you before that, and I definitely like you after.”
Jihyo says it as if it’s remarkably simple, and maybe, just maybe, it is. “Okay,” Jeongyeon says. “I’ll stay.”
Jihyo curls closer with a satisfied hum. Moments later, she whispers a quiet question. “Do you think we can pretend?”
“What?”
“Pretend,” Jihyo repeats. “Do you think we can do it?”
Jeongyeon slides her head a bit further down the pillow to better hear Jihyo. “What are we pretending?”
Jihyo’s fingers flex against her waist, and her exhale breaks against Jeongyeon’s collarbone. “That this isn’t finite. I have to leave at the end of the summer. Eventually, I’ll have to cave and go on a date with one of the boys my father keeps throwing at me.” Something in Jeongyeon’s chest twists with each word leaving Jihyo’s mouth. “But I want to pretend that I can just be happy. With you.”
Jihyo’s voice holds a lifetime of heartache, and it overrides any of the warning flags that may have otherwise gone up at Jihyo’s words. Jeongyeon cups Jihyo’s jaw, presses closer until they are simply a tangle of limbs. “We can pretend,” she says, pressing a kiss to Jihyo’s lips. “We can pretend.”
//
They’re two months into the summer and there are several things Jeongyeon has done with Jihyo that Mr. Park would probably not approve of, so she supposes there’s no harm in accepting Jihyo’s offer to spread aloe over her somehow sunburned shoulders. She follows the other woman up to her room and sits on Jihyo’s bed, watching as she walks into her personal bathroom to grab the promised aloe.
A few seconds pass, and then Jihyo lets out a noise of success, emerging from the bathroom and walking towards Jeongyeon with a bottle in hand. Jihyo climbs onto the bed, and Jeongyeon feels the bed dip as Jihyo settles behind her, knees pressing gently into the small of Jeongyeon’s back.
“Alright,” Jihyo says, “shirt off.”
Jeongyeon lets out a scandalized gasp, her hands already reaching for the hem of her shirt. “Jihyo, I don’t know if that’s—”
One of Jihyo’s knees nudges her. “Oh shut up. We both know I’ve seen you in less.” Unbidden, memories flash through Jeongyeon’s mind, and she’s grateful that Jihyo can’t see her face. “Swimsuit top off as well. Don’t want the straps getting in the way.”
Jeongyeon feels oddly nervous as she reaches behind her back to tug at the knots holding her bikini top on. Jihyo isn’t wrong in saying that she’s seen Jeongyeon in less—much less—but still. Those moments were harried, too full of passion for Jeongyeon to even entertain the idea of getting shy. This moment is quiet, spacious, and Jeongyeon finds herself worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she removes her top and drops it into her lap.
A moment passes in which nothing happens, and then another. The bed shifts slightly beneath her. “Jihyo—” Her words are cut off with a sigh as Jihyo’s hands gently touch the base of her spine, applying just the right amount of pressure.
Jihyo’s hands glide up along the plane of her back, alternating between pressing and caressing in a way that has Jeongyeon all but melting back into her. Her mind goes blank, the space between her ears filling with a comfortable haze. Jeongyeon can’t stop the soft moan that tumbles from her lips. Miraculously, Jihyo says nothing.
Eventually, Jihyo touches her sunburn, and Jeongyeon flinches. “Shit.” Jihyo’s hands immediately drop, one of them touching the small of her back in a gentle apology. Jeongyeon hears the sound of the aloe being opened and squeezed out, and then Jihyo’s hands are on her again.
Jeongyeon’s hiss slips into a sigh of relief as Jihyo begins applying the aloe to her shoulders. Then, at last, Jihyo speaks. “I really don’t know how you keep getting burned.” Her touch on the back of Jeongyeon’s neck is gentle, soothes Jeongyeon in a way the lotion doesn’t.
“I think it’s because some mysterious force keeps removing all the sunscreen from my body the moment I show up for work,” Jeongyeon teases. Her eyes slip shut as Jihyo’s hands dip lower, skimming over her collarbones. She pulls back, smooths aloe over Jeongyeon’s upper back. Several moments pass before she speaks again.
“I’m well aware of how much I’ve kissed you today, and it was definitely not this much. You just suck at applying sunscreen.” She does one final pass of Jeongyeon’s neck. “All done.”
Jeongyeon shakes her head, pleased when the motion doesn’t set off a wave of pain. “Thank you very much!” She twists the upper half of her body to face Jihyo head on. “Also, I’m great at applying sunscreen. The sun is just my enemy. I’m the Icarus in this story.”
“Icarus?” Jihyo slides off of her bed and begins making her way over to her dresser.
“You know, the guy that tried to touch the Sun, but then the Sun killed him.” Jeongyeon watches Jihyo move and finds herself taken with the way her thin, white coverup brushes against Jihyo’s sun-kissed thighs.
“Do you really think that was the Sun’s fault?” Jihyo’s voice snaps her out of her daze.
“Of course. What else?”
Jihyo stops her search to turn and give Jeongyeon a skeptical look. “I don’t know, maybe his own stupidity.”
“No way,” Jeongyeon protests. “Listen, the gods put this big shiny thing in the sky, and then they punish people for trying to reach it. If they didn’t want Icarus near the sun, they could’ve pushed him down with a breeze or something.”
“You’re ridiculous. The gods didn’t force him up there. That was all him. He made the fool’s choice.”
Jeongyeon lets out a loud sigh. “You’re such a business major. So you refuse to admit that the Sun killed him, and I refuse to agree that it’s his fault. Where does that leave us?”
“At a stalemate, I suppose.” Jihyo tosses something Jeongyeon’s way. She catches it, looking at Jihyo in confusion when it’s revealed to be a t-shirt.
(It says “2011 District Choir Champion” on the front. Later when Jeongyeon asks about it, Jihyo will explain that it was her last choir performance that her mother attended. “It’s old, but I keep it because it reminds me of her,” Jihyo will say, a hint of a smile on her lips. It’s like a glimpse into a whole other side of Jihyo, one Jeongyeon knows she would insist doesn’t exist but one that Jeongyeon treasures all the same.)
“You need to cover your shoulders, or it’ll rub off,” Jihyo continues, gesturing for Jeongyeon to put the shirt on. “Clearly your tank top didn’t do a good job at protecting you.”
“You, like the Sun to Icarus, are to blame for that,” Jeongyeon snarks, pulling the shirt over her head. It’s soft, smells like the floral laundry detergent that she’s come to associate with Jihyo.
Jihyo rounds the bed, making Jeongyeon jump when she straddles her lap. “Wh—” Jihyo silences her with a finger against her lips.
Jihyo leans in closer, trailing her finger from Jeongyeon’s lips to her cheekbones, curving downward until she’s tracing along Jeongyeon’s jaw. Jeongyeon forgets to breathe, stricken.
Jihyo leans in further, stopping only when their noses brush. She speaks, voice low and teasing. “Tell me, Jeongyeon, do you want me to stop kissing you?”
In lieu of an answer, Jeongyeon shifts forward. Her lips have barely brushed Jihyo’s when the other woman is rocking backwards and up out of her lap. “Hey,” Jeongyeon protests.
Jihyo winks, taking steps towards her door. “Point proven. Now come on. I was doing something downstairs before your glaringly red shoulders distracted me.”
Jeongyeon stands, following Jihyo out the door. “You were getting ready to take a nap!”
Jihyo makes her way down the stairs and into the living room. “Exactly, and now I’m going to go back to that.” She drops onto the couch, reaching out a hand and silently asking Jeongyeon to join her. “Come on.”
Jeongyeon is taken aback, but she finds herself stepping forward and settling against Jihyo as if this is something they do all the time. She starts to hyperfocus on Jihyo’s legs brushing against her own, on the curve of Jihyo’s cheek, on how right it feels to be here.
She can feel it, the panic beginning to creep over the horizon of her mind. She knows what the warm feeling in her chest is and knows what it could become. She also knows that her and Jihyo can never be anything more than a summer fling, and maybe it’s for that reason that she doesn’t freak out when Jihyo drapes an arm around her waist. She doesn’t have to worry about how their story goes if she already knows the ending.
She wonders what Jihyo is thinking. It doesn’t look like much, based on the way the other woman’s eyes had immediately slipped shut once Jeongyeon had joined her.
It becomes harder and harder for her to keep her eyes open, and, eventually, Jeongyeon succumbs to the warm lure of sleep. She slowly loses sense of her surroundings, until the only thing she’s aware of is the faint twitching of Jihyo’s arm across her waist.
Jihyo moves, gently running her hand up the side of Jeongyeon’s body—skipping over the sunburned areas—until she’s running her fingers through Jeongyeon’s hair. Jeongyeon wants to open her eyes and see how Jihyo is looking at her, if Jihyo is looking at her, but she’s too far gone to muster the energy.
Jihyo’s touch is soft, and it lulls Jeongyeon closer to sleep. “I figured out our compromise,” Jihyo murmurs. Jeongyeon responds with a questioning hum, pressing her head further into Jihyo’s palm. “It wasn’t him or the Sun. The ocean killed Icarus,” Jihyo continues. “He wanted something he couldn’t have and was punished for it.” Her voice sounds heavy, as if the words are pressing against her lungs.
Jeongyeon wants to take that weight away, but sleep catches up to her before she can. Her limbs slacken, and the last thing she’s aware of before falling asleep is a gentle touch upon her cheek.
//
Jeongyeon has never been all that fond of poetry. There’s something about the way the words trickle slowly through her chest that makes her uncomfortable. She doesn't like the way she can sometimes feel the weight of the author's pen, as if they are trying to force her to feel an emotion that is simply out of her reach. That was the benefit of a photo. Once you had the image captured, it was yours to live in and re-experience. You didn't need twelve metaphors about the colors of a sunset if you had one glowing picture.
Jihyo makes her wish that she always had her camera on her. She wants to capture the way Jihyo looks at her. She wants to always be able to remember the arch of Jihyo's back atop her bed, the euphoric look on Jihyo's face when Jeongyeon presses into her. She wants the memory of Jihyo leaning against the doorway of the pool house with her towel draped around her neck to never fade.
As it is, she settles for bringing her own camera and snapping photos of Jihyo when she least expects it. She wants to remember Jihyo like this: sitting in front of the window, hands folded in front of her as she looks at something across the room. She hadn’t given herself much time to fiddle with the settings of the camera before lining up the shot; she didn’t want to miss it, and she knew the sound of the photo being taken would give her only one chance.
Jihyo’s eyes find hers the second after the photo is taken. She raises an eyebrow. “See something you like?”
“Yup,” Jeongyeon says, placing her camera on the table next to her. “You have very nice crown moulding on your windows.”
“Oh well don’t let me block your view.” Jihyo stands, making her way towards Jeongyeon. Halfway there, they break out into simultaneous smiles.
“Hi,” Jihyo murmurs as she settles onto Jeongyeon’s lap.
Jeongyeon cranes her neck upwards, gently brushing the tip of her nose against Jihyo’s before answering. “Hello.”
“Hi,” Jihyo repeats, breath ghosting over Jeongyeon’s lips.
Jeongyeon shifts forward, hands slipping underneath Jihyo’s shirt as their lips meet. She’s seized with the urge to cradle Jihyo close, to somehow express to her the depth of the feelings that sit in her chest. Her tenderness is unsatisfied with inaction, and Jeongyeon gently drags her fingertips up Jihyo’s sides, smiling into their kiss when the other woman shivers.
Jihyo breaks the kiss. “Rude.” She presses a kiss to Jeongyeon’s brow. “I do you the service of clearing your view for your photo and this is how you repay me.”
“It’s what you deserve.” Jeongyeon repeats the motion, laughing when Jihyo slaps her hands away. “Not my fault you’re ticklish.”
Jihyo just huffs, dropping her head so that their foreheads knock gently together. She stays there, eyes tracing a gentle path along Jeongyeon’s face.
There's prickling in the forefront of her mind that makes her want to avert her eyes, but it's also the very same feeling that keeps Jeongyeon still and lets her eyes stay on the gentle slopes of Jihyo's features. She thinks she could stay here for hours, learning the nuances of Jihyo's face, the way the light reflects in her eyes. Jeongyeon is achingly curious in a way that makes her chest feel too full, a balloon on the verge of popping.
Jihyo wants them to pretend, but the way she raises her hands to cup Jeongyeon’s jaw and bring her into a loving kiss feels all too real.
Jeongyeon wants to hope so badly it consumes her, burns her from the inside out until she is nothing but ash and desire.
//
Jeongyeon climbs the stairs, excited to see Jihyo after a week apart. Since the first week they had started doing whatever it was they were doing, Jeongyeon had done her best to resist missing Jihyo, but the effort quickly became a pointless one. She stops outside of Jihyo’s ajar door, hand raised to knock.
She pauses when Jihyo enters her field of vision. She’s wearing a black halter-top dress, one that makes it all too easy for Jeongyeon’s eyes to roam over the curve of Jihyo’s neck, the angle of her collarbones. She looks breathtaking.
Jeongyeon knocks, needing to be closer. Jihyo turns sharply at the noise, the flash of panic across her face quickly shifting into something more welcoming. “You look beautiful,” Jeongyeon says, stepping into the room. “Like a dream.”
Jihyo looks down, gives a shy yet pleased “Thank you.”
“I hope you’re not expecting me to actually take care of your pool while you’re dressed like this. Because—”
"You can't be here." The panic is back, suddenly. Jihyo's voice is urgent, frantic, but Jeongyeon smiles.
She steps forward, loops her arms around Jihyo's waist, pulls her closer like she does every Saturday. Jihyo melts, just for a moment, palms lighting fires as they skim Jeongyeon's shoulders. Her eyes soften, not liquid, not quite firm. The center of the sun.
"I don't know how to tell you this, but I'm literally paid to be here right now."
An eclipse. Her shoulders grow cold. Jihyo's voice is harried. "You can go be by the pool but you can't be here."
Jeongyeon opens her mouth to ask why, now genuinely concerned, but a voice from downstairs cuts her off.
"Jihyo? Where did you go? Your father wanted us to meet him at the museum as quickly as we could."
The voice sounds masculine, youthful, and more importantly than that it illuminates the shame and guilt lurking in Jihyo's eyes. Jihyo’s dress isn’t for her.
Jeongyeon takes a step back and then another. Jihyo's mouth moves but no sound is produced. She looks down, unable to stand the look on Jihyo’s face. It infuriates her. She hears Jihyo take a step towards her, pause, and then hurry away.
She wants to chase after Jihyo, ask her if this is why she had brushed off Jeongyeon’s attempts to meet outside of Jihyo’s house. Something ugly lurches in her chest, demands that she confront Jihyo’s date, tell him that he’ll never have Jihyo, not like Jeongyeon does.
It’s a possessive impulse, but the mere thought is enough to temper her anger. She takes a step towards the door only to feel the fleeting satisfaction that comes with knowing she could do it. The anger continues to trickle away as she hears the front door open and close.
She knew this was coming, having been explicitly told so by two different Parks. She knew, yet she had let herself pretend.
Jihyo had let them pretend.
Jeongyeon gives herself five seconds to face reality, five seconds to come to terms with the fact that her heart feels like it’s breaking. Then she walks down the stairs and out the back door, going to do the one thing she has yet to fuck up this summer.
//
They’re in bed together, because even though Jeongyeon had shown up today determined to stay away from Jihyo, one tearful apology was all it had taken for Jeongyeon to fall all over again. Jihyo had said everything Jeongyeon expected her to, everything Jeongyeon had spent the last week repeating to herself.
I’m not dating him, Jeongyeon.
I’m doing this to get my father off my back.
Jeongyeon relents because she doesn’t have it in her to resist. She wants to make the most of this moment while she can.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Jihyo’s whisper is almost lost in her pillow, but Jeongyeon catches it.
“Like what,” she asks, tracing her finger along Jihyo’s arm and enjoying the goosebumps it leaves behind.
“Like you—” Jihyo stops. Exhales. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Jeongyeon wants to laugh. “I know.” She’s always known, always been aware that they were living on borrowed time. “You’re going back to school to get your degree and marry the man of your father’s dreams, and I’m going back to school and pretending like this never happened.” She doesn’t expect her mood to sour so quickly, but she’s only human.
Jihyo visibly shrinks from her, surprised. “Why are you suddenly acting like I’m the villain here? You knew what this was from the beginning, Jeongyeon. I made that clear. We can’t—”
“You won’t.”
“Jeongyeon…” Jihyo’s voice is a warning that Jeongyeon willfully ignores.
“It’s the truth, isn’t it?” Jeongyeon sits up, tries to lessen the sudden anger in her chest with a laugh. “Your choices are your own.” She doesn’t dare look at Jihyo, afraid the heat building behind her eyes would make itself known if she did.
“Do you really think this is what I want?” Jihyo’s voice is quiet. Defeated. “I don’t have a choice, Jeongyeon. I’m all my father has.” Her voice breaks, and Jeongyeon’s chest caves in on itself. “What would you have me do?”
Jeongyeon stands. “I should go.” She gathers her clothes from around the room, pulling them on with uneven movements.
Jihyo doesn’t speak until she’s almost at the door. “Jeongyeon.”
Jeongyeon wants to have a heroic ending, wants to storm away from injustice being done to her with her head held high. She wants to tell Jihyo off, to call her a terrible, horrible person.
Jeongyeon exhales, hears its shaky echo in her ears.
She wants to turn around and press her lips against Jihyo’s, tumble into bed with her and get lost amongst laughter and cool sheets. She wants to let Jihyo take her apart and put her back together again.
She wants to forget that she may never again kiss Jihyo.
She wants the things she cannot bring herself to do and the things she cannot have. She tells the truth instead.
“I’m a terrible actress.” Jeongyeon steadies herself on the doorframe, squeezes until her arm begins to shake. “I’ve always been bad at playing pretend. Every word, every touch. It was all real for me.” There are three more words she cannot bring herself to say. Even now, on the verge of sobbing in front of a woman who will be leaving her behind, Jeongyeon fights to protect herself.
There’s a rustle of sheets behind her, and Jeongyeon’s heart leaps into her throat. She can picture Jihyo coming towards her, arms wrapping around her waist and head finding its spot on her shoulder.
There is nothing.
Jeongyeon drives home, tears blurring the stoplights no matter how hard she tries to stop them.
//
Jeongyeon shows up the next day because the thought of ending on such a venomous note leaves a pit in her stomach. This is the last time, she promises herself, the last time she burns herself for Park Jihyo.
Their goodbye is simple in the end, and the ease with which it happens hurts almost as much as it does to watch Jihyo walk down the driveway and get into a car that will take her to the airport.
Jihyo had hugged her tight, and Jeongyeon had returned in kind, fighting the desperate urge to bury her face in Jihyo’s hair or clutch at her clothes. Jihyo had lingered in the hug, and Jeongyeon had allowed one final, desperate spark of hope to light fire in her chest. Then Jihyo had pulled away and left without another word. Jeongyeon hadn’t even been able to catch her gaze one last time.
Jeongyeon closes her eyes to find Jihyo's silhouette burned into her retinas. She hears the car pull out of the driveway, the sound of the engine growing fainter every second. She opens her eyes. Jihyo is gone, but her specter lingers in Jeongyeon’s vision.
“They had only good things to say about her work at her internship, and she met someone I’d one day be happy to call a son-in-law.” Mr. Park claps her on the shoulder. “Thank you for keeping an eye on her this summer, Jeongyeon. You both did exactly what you were supposed to do.” She can picture the smile on Mr. Park’s face.
“Yeah.” Her voice cracks, and she does her best to cover it with a cough. There’s a pulsing behind her eyes. “She did.”
“I’ll leave you to wrap up for the day. I’ll send your final check by mail. Thank you for your help this summer, Jeongyeon. If you ever need anything, give me a call.”
It would be easier, Jeongyeon thinks, so much easier if she didn’t get along with the man in charge of twisting Jihyo’s life to his will. Mr. Park liked her, and in fleeting moments, she liked him.
“Thank you, Mr. Park. Take care.”
She walks to her car, each step heavier than the last. She doesn’t want this feeling, the sour taste of defeat in her mouth and the numbness in her chest. She climbs into the driver’s seat, buckling her seatbelt and starting the car from muscle memory. Her thoughts won’t leave a certain car and the woman inside of it, getting farther and farther away from her with each breath.
She rests her forehead against the steering wheel and wills herself not to cry. She closes her eyes and the sunspots taunt her. Icarus, Jeongyeon thinks, wings melted, mouth filling with water, was a goddamn fool.
The Penultimate
One year later, Jeongyeon is back at the Park residence. She walks up the driveway with Chaeyoung, ready to pass the torch on to her longtime neighbor. With each step she finds herself gripped tighter by dread and apprehension.
She hesitates at the gate, hands wrapped around familiar black metal. Jihyo could be right around the corner. It had taken everything in her not to ask after Jihyo when Mr. Park had called and asked if she could recommend a replacement for this summer.
Jeongyeon has thought about what she’d do if she saw Jihyo again, how she’d flit her eyes over the other woman like she had barely mattered to Jeongyeon. She’d throw out a hello with a steady voice, hide inevitable pain in her chest with a small smile.
Jeongyeon’s greatest fear is that she will fail at this, that Jihyo will look at her and smile that smile Jeongyeon loved so much, and everything will fall apart.
But here she is, making her way into the pool house that holds so many memories for her. She tries to walk as swiftly and firmly as she can as she talks about the leaves that always end up in the pool.
“The skimmer will be your best friend. You’ll find it in the...” Jeongyeon trails off. The pool house looks different.
“Woah,” Chaeyoung exclaims, stepping past Jeongyeon and through the doorway. “This place is awesome!”
“Yes,” Jeongyeon breathes, “it is.” The paint is what Jeongyeon notices first, the beige popcorn walls she had hated so much now a smooth grey. The runner that had always gotten so damp has been replaced by a long black rubber mat.
She takes one step in and then another, faintly aware of Chaeyoung darting from room to room. She turns to her right, and, where there was once a mess of boxes that made it so hard for Jeongyeon to get the chemicals, are familiar white buckets. They’re stacked, labeled, and not blocked by a single random object.
She stares, a quiet understanding slowly growing louder in her chest. It could all just be coincidence, surely, but…
“Hey,” Chaeyoung calls from the room on the right. “There’s a really neat photo in here! The focus is a bit weird, but it’s cool. Also this couch is soft as hell.”
And Jeongyeon knows.
Her heart is in her throat as she follows Chaeyoung’s voice. She wants to flee, turn around before she can see something that may very well destroy her. She has sustained herself on the knowledge that Jihyo no longer feels anything for her, tells herself that she knows they wouldn’t have made it in the end.
That asking Jihyo to choose her never would’ve worked.
The rec room looks exactly as she remembered, except for the picture that now hangs above the couch. It’s large, impossible to miss in this room that Jeongyeon remembers so well. She takes another step in the room and tries not to stare, but it is impossible.
She looks, and she remembers.
“Chaeyoung,” she says, eyes unmoving, “let’s take a look at the first room. I’ll run you through the chemicals.”
Chaeyoung nods, rocking up and off the couch. Jeongyeon doesn’t even try to look away from the picture until she hears Chaeyoung’s footsteps move down the hallway. She takes a breath, and then another, willing herself to turn. She knows this is the last time she will ever see this picture, the last time she will ever be in this room.
She wrenches her gaze away and steps out of the room, trying not to think about a Jihyo that loves her even still.
The Last
Years later, long enough that Jeongyeon has to do the math in her head twice before she is sure of just how many, Jeongyeon sees Jihyo at the opening of an art show.
It had been Chaeyoung’s idea, of course. She was probably the only reason Jeongyeon’s camera wasn’t gathering dust in her closet. So here she was, bumping elbows with far too-wealthy businessmen and women that were unable to stay away from the mix of eclecticism and charisma that Chaeyoung’s shows always offered.
There’s a certain corner of the room she had been avoiding all night, and she can only hope that others were doing the same. Jeongyeon’s photo that hung on that wall did not deserve to be there, had only made it because Chaeyoung had stumbled upon it and insisted.
It’s overexposed, and the colors are too harsh. To make it worse, Chaeyoung had decided to put it in the center of one of the walls. The overhead light shining down on it only served to highlight all the picture’s flaws.
It’s the only piece of mixed media art she’s ever produced. When Chaeyoung told her that she would be using the photo, Jeongyeon had insisted on a final edit. She doesn’t know if the streak of black paint across Jihyo’s eyes was more for Jihyo’s protection or her own, but it was done. If she looked at the picture quickly, she could convince herself that the person in the photo was anyone else.
She wonders if Chaeyoung recognizes the woman in the photo, but she can never bring herself to ask.
Not for the first time that night, Jeongyeon wonders if she can get away with taking the photo down and hiding it away. It’s during this aimless plotting that Jeongyeon lets her eyes drift over to the corner.
She knows immediately that it’s Jihyo, and for one moment, Jeongyeon’s entire world stops. She pulls away from the conversation circle she had been standing in without a word, slipping through the crowd until she can get a better look at Jihyo’s face.
She needs to be sure it’s her before she gives into the maelstrom in her chest. They’re in a far-flung city in a district Jeongyeon would never imagine Jihyo frequenting.
Jihyo looks like a familiar stranger. Her hair is longer now, reaching halfway down her back in jet-black waves. People cross through Jeongyeon’s view, reducing Jihyo’s movements to something out of a flip book.
Even with that, Jeongyeon can see the tears welling in Jihyo’s eyes. It’s a slow crescendo, one that Jeongyeon could not look away from even if she tried.
The first tear that runs down Jihyo’s cheek feels like damnation and absolution all at once. Then a second, a third, a fourth. A deluge of contradictions stream down Jihyo’s cheeks. The quiver of Jihyo’s lips answers every question Jeongyeon had been too much of a coward to ask.
Jihyo raises her hand to cover her mouth, and the diamond on her finger reflects the harsh overhead light.
Slowly, Jihyo’s expression shifts. Tears continue to trail down her cheeks, but with every gasping breath, a smile grows.
Jeongyeon closes her eyes for a moment, tastes sunscreen and chlorine on her tongue. She can feel it building in her chest, the urge to let herself burn. She opens her eyes and Jihyo is still there, eyes not wavering from the photo in front of her.
She’s still crying. Still smiling.
Jeongyeon skims the surface of the ocean and tastes the sea salt. The sun calls to her, beckoning with warm yellows and lush oranges. Jeongyeon craves the warmth on her skin, leaving the ocean behind to soar upwards. The wind rushes by her, but she pays it no mind.
The sun grows no closer, but Jeongyeon can feel herself growing warmer. And then. She falters.
She knows this story.
She knows the drag of the ocean’s howling winds, the slow drip of wax along her charred shoulders. Even as she had been falling she had been flying, gazing upon a view of the world that so few ever got to experience. She knows the ocean does not catch; it crushes.
She knows, as she watches Jihyo smile at the photo with such fondness in her eyes, that never before has someone drowned for so noble a cause.