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There are new flowers on Jinsol’s collarbone, dainty little daisies that bloom whenever Sooyoung is around her. Jungeun’s eyes linger on them even though it makes her feel a little guilty, that she’s looking at Jinsol long enough that anyone else looking would’ve misinterpreted the moment — she is already more involved in this than she’d like to be.
Jungeun ends up tearing her gaze away, because otherwise, she would’ve said something stupid.
“They are Sooyoung’s flowers, you know,” Jinsol says into the cold evening air and exhales, a gentle little noise.
Two years ago, Jinsol kissed Jungeun, tears running down her face, and said, “tell me you feel something.” Unsaid, were the words, “I wish it wasn’t you.” Jungeun shook her head back then, pushing Jinsol away; but maybe she should’ve dealt with it in a better way.
“I know.”
If things were different, maybe it would’ve worked out between them. But Jiwoo will always come first for Jungeun, and Jungeun doesn’t hide it from anyone one, least of all Jinsol.
“I don't care that she isn’t my soulmate,” Jinsol says a little defensively.
There’s unpalatable tension in the air. Jungeun scuffs the toe of her shoe against the ground, uncomfortable, just so she doesn’t have to look at Jinsol. She ends up settling for a mumbled “alright.” It doesn’t feel like enough.
She doesn’t know what Jinsol wants her to say.
Things have been off between the two of them for a while now. Jinsol blurted out that Jungeun was her soulmate but not the other way around a couple of months ago, Jungeun avoided her until their friends staged an intervention, and suddenly Jinsol was confessing that she liked Sooyoung. Things ended up snowballing into something huge and awkward and unavoidable. Jungeun hadn’t known any of it until it hit her in the face— she doesn’t really notice anyone but Jiwoo, these days.
But things are turning out fine, aren’t they, for Jinsol at least? She’s risking everything for Sooyoung by going against what the universe wants for her, tearing herself apart for something so uncertain and fragile, and it’s more of a bet than a decision — but she’s happy.
Something inside Jungeun sours.
She will never have this, because she’s a coward.
Jungeun doesn’t throw herself into things the way Jinsol does. Her soulmark sprawls across her shoulder just out of sight, red and ugly and raw, and she despises it as much as she adores it, because the one person that she belongs to, well—
“I feel like a bad friend sometimes, you know,” says Jinsol, so softly that Jungeun has to strain her ears to catch the words. “I haven’t really been keeping up with you, with all the stuff that’s been going on between me and Sooyoung.”
“If anything, I’m the bad friend,” Jungeun says, and means it.
Jinsol smiles at her, sweet and gentle, and Jungeun thinks that she would have fallen for Jinsol if not for Jiwoo. If not for the fact that she’s so in love with her best friend that she’s blind to the rest of the world.
It has always been Jiwoo for her.
For as long as she remembers, it had always been the two of them against the world. At fifteen, she saw Jiwoo’s soulmark by accident and realised that it matched her own but they were changing for a swimming lesson and still barely friends back then. So Jungeun had forced herself to turn back around, heart pounding in her chest and filled with age-old longing. At eighteen, Jiwoo kissed her at their last sleepover before graduation and whispered, your first kiss should belong to someone you love. And at twenty, Jungeun walks Jiwoo back to the dorms, arm snaking around her waist, and thinks, I am in love with you.
Somehow, Jungeun never mustered up the courage to bring it up. Jiwoo never brought the topic of being anything more than friends up either — so it just remained an open secret between them, treading the line between friends and something more without falling.
Jungeun would’ve confessed if Jiwoo took the first step.
She wonders if Jiwoo knows.
“How are you guys?”
Jungeun startles. “Hm?”
“You have that look on your face,” Jinsol says a little wistfully. “The one that says you’re thinking about Jiwoo again— you look happier when she’s on your mind.”
“I didn’t— uh—”
“You really need to do something about it, Jungeun. Even Yerim asked me if you guys were dating the other day, and you know how dense she is when it comes to relationships and stuff.”
Jungeun swallows. “We aren’t dating.”
“Why?” Jinsol says.
Why?
Jungeun never asked because she doesn’t want to ruin their friendship, the same reason why she doesn’t talk about soulmates with Jinsol.
“You guys are literally made for each other,” Jinsol says, not a single hint of bitterness in her voice, and Jungeun doesn’t really know how she does it. If someone had stolen her place in Jiwoo’s heart, she would’ve spent the rest of her life hating them. “You are in love with her. And she’s in love with you. I don’t see the problem here.”
Jungeun shakes her head. “I—”
“Why are neither of you doing anything?”
“I can’t.”
“Why?” repeats Jinsol, and it’s enough to make Jungeun glower at the floor.
It’s not fair.
It doesn’t feel fair that everyone knows about how much she loves Jiwoo. It feels like a part of her at this point — she’s spent most of her life being in love with Jiwoo, and all this time, she’s been trying to keep it from bursting out; and Jungeun ended up burying the confession deep inside her. And now Jinsol managed to dig the words out of her and she’s prodding at it, judging it, and Jungeun is scared. She is terrified of what she’s feeling.
She can’t do anything about it.
“I’d rather be in her life as something insignificant than not be in it at all,” she says. “Is that what you want to hear? I can’t lose her.”
“You can never be anything insignificant though,” Jinsol points out. “You’re her best friend. She’s always going to put you first.”
“You don’t get it.”
Jinsol smiles thinly. “I do,” she says, “more than you think.” Jinsol is scary when she gets like this, quiet and sure; each word punctuated with more emotion that Jungeun can understand. “Do you think this is fair to me, Jungeun?”
Somewhere in her words was a cry for help, something wounded and bitter. Jungeun digs her hands into her pockets and looks away, unwilling to acknowledge all the hurt in Jinsol’s voice.
“Jiwoo’s coming to pick me up in a minute,” she says shortly.
Jinsol eyes her, expression hardening. “Right.”
“Right,” Jungeun repeats.
The two of them scowl at each other. Out of the corner of her eye, Jungeun catches a little flash of green on Jinsol’s collarbone — her flowers, trailing down the side of Jinsol’s neck. Now, they’re entangled with white petals. Ambrosia, and daisies.
They look better this way, Jungeun thinks. Jinsol has enough love for more than one person. She deserves someone who can give her the affection she deserves. And Jungeun—
Jiwoo’s mark matches Jungeun’s, and that is the scariest part.
Jungeun rolls her shoulders back. “Sorry,” she mumbles unwillingly, but this is the least she can do after everything she’s done. “I know you just want the best for me.”
“Yeah,” Jinsol says, sighing, then— “I’ll wait for Jiwoo with you.”
It’s halfway down the path to acceptance.
They’ll be okay. Maybe not right away, maybe things won’t be the same again. But someday in the future, they can be friends without all the baggage that comes along with it. The universe had set them together for a reason, after all.
It doesn’t take long for Jiwoo to show up, beaming at them. The flowers on Jungeun’s shoulder blossom the moment she spots her, a familiar warmth that sends her heart racing.
Jinsol shoves her towards Jiwoo. “Go, she says, “be grateful that she’s yours.”
Jungeun doesn’t hesitate. She buries her face in the crook of Jiwoo’s neck and breathes in, and tries not to think about the way her arms feel like home.
“Come on,” Jiwoo says, gently untangling Jungeun from her. She doesn’t let go though, instead, she slots her fingers between Jungeun’s. “Let’s go home.”
Jungeun doesn’t take a single look back at Jinsol.