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In the several years of their glorious friendship, Sol has seen, first hand, just how impetuous Ji-wan's decisions can be. Sol has been through it all — whether it be the easy way in which Ji-wan threw caution to the wind and helped Sol skip school so they can go to the beach to cheer her up as she had correctly inferred the terrible fight she had with her parents after only a week of knowing each other; whether it be the way she saw Sol drawing, once and decided that art was her destination as well; or whether it was the heart-stirring, breath quickening decision she made — overnight — of moving in with Sol, the day her lease expired.
None of the many bold endeavours in between those hasty decisions could have prepared Sol for this:
Ji-wan settled on the floor with her in her baby pink blouse embroidered with tiny strawberries, her fringes askew, her hair woven in neat little braids that she wakes up 20 minutes early for, licking the strawberry juice that coats her fingers as she happily munches on them, without knowing how it fans the flames in every one of Sol's nerve endings.
Ji-wan looks at Sol, holds her gaze, licks her fingers once again, before averting her eyes and biting the strawberry again.
"Sol," she says, plucking the leaves out of the other strawberry now. "won't you eat?"
Sol says nothing, only shakes her head and settles back against the sofa legs, crossing her arms against her chest.
"Sol," Ji-wan whines, grabbing Sol's wrist with her strawberry juice covered, freshly licked fingers. "why are you ignoring me?"
As if Sol can ever ignore the ever-present pull she feels towards Ji-wan.
"What's going on?" Sol asks, knowing that nothing good ever comes out from Ji-wan's mouth when she is soaking in this particular tone, her voice hilted and high towards the end, as though she wouldn't be able to survive if Sol does not talk to her, does not look at her.
"You're a girl, right?"
Sol blinks, suddenly unable to guess the direction in which this conversation might go.
"Yes?"
Ji-wan smiles, bright and warm, and nudges closer until her knee touches Ji-wan's thigh.
"Me, too!" she says. "Well, sort of anyway. But, the point is that I have never dated a girl before. Have you?"
Sol's sexuality has been conveyed, acknowledged, and accepted between the two of them without any words. Ji-wan had always been perceptive, and when Sol's eyes wandered on only the women in the movies they used to watch together during high school, Ji-wan knew that her best friend was a lesbian, and squeezed her hand as tight as she could. They've never spoken about it — not until now.
Ji-wan's sexuality, on the other hand, has been conveyed, acknowledged, and accepted between the two of them with a sudden outburst of a declaration the moment Ji-wan realised. She came tumbling onto Sol's bed a week ago, holding her hand tight, screaming about how she just realised that she was bisexual and how "everything makes so much sense now!". Ever since that day, Sol had to witness the only person she has loved even before she knew how to love someone else flirting with everyone. She can only be supportive of her best friend's journey, at this point.
"I have not," Sol replies.
Ji-wan's face lights up. "Well, have you kissed another girl before?"
Sol suddenly feels like she is wading through uncharted territories without any sort of light guiding her way. "I… have."
Ji-wan's face lights up even more before it diffuses like the stillness of the night after the final sparks of a firecracker die out. "Hey," she says. "You didn't tell me about that, Sol! We're besties, aren't you supposed to tell me everything?"
Sol scoots closer to put a hand on Ji-wan's shoulder. "It was a long time ago," she says. The queer community in Seoul was certainly bigger than the town they were from where everyone knew everything and Sol knew that she would regret it if she didn't try it out, at least once. Those pride parties were as enlightening as they were heart wringing. She wanted to belong there among the sea of people but realised that she does not want a place for herself in the wide, vast world if it means leaving Ji-wan's side.
"It doesn't matter now."
"Hey," Ji-wan says, scooting closer. Sol's hand lingers on her shoulder before letting go. "Of course, it does. Was it any good?"
Sol does not remember much from those scattered experiences, to begin with. "Yes, I think so. But it was long ago anyway, so it does not matter.”
“What was the issue? Why did you stop, then? Are you going to be kissing girls when we go to that pride party in a few days?”
“It does not matter, Ji-wan. Why are you asking this?”
Ji-wan's face brightens up again, her warm hands move up and down Sol's arm, causing a ripple of gooseflesh rising on the back of her neck. "I have a request."
She abruptly pulls her hands away, picks out the juiciest strawberry from the plate, and holds it against Sol's lips.
When Sol makes no move to open her mouth, Ji-wan's encouraging nods become impatient, as she pushes it between her lips.
Sol merely holds it between her teeth, unwilling to take a bite lest she chokes on the bite after Ji-wan's request.
Ji-wan appears to take a deep breath, and entwines their hands together, looking up at Sol steadily.
"I want you to kiss me."
The several, momentous years of their friendship that Sol will never get enough of, never tire of, had not prepared her for the opportunity of hearing these words that deeply carve out one of the basal instincts Sol represses on a daily basis.
The strawberry falls out of her mouth.
Ji-wan, her face hopeful and optimistic frowns looks at the strawberry fallen on Sol's lap and picks it. Ji-wan's fingers brush against her hip bone, and Sol suppresses a gasp.
Ji-wan, oblivious to Sol's inner suffering, looks at the strawberry and bites it, right where it was marked with her teeth.
"What are you saying?"
"I want you to kiss me," Ji-wan says, quite seriously, after chewing the last bit of the strawberry that will haunt Sol's dream in the decades to come.
"Why?"
"Do people need a reason to kiss each other, Sol?"
"When the people in the equation are one's best friends, then yes."
Ji-wan sighs deeply, looking troubled. "Fine," she says, not looking up from where she fidgets with the strawberries. "You got me. I have a date with a girl on Friday and I have never kissed a girl, ever. I want it to be good for her. You have kissed a girl, and I want you to assess me."
"Assess you?"
Ji-wan nods. "I want it to be good for her, Sol! Besides, I trust you the most. I want you to kiss me and tell me how it is. Will you help me?"
After a few moments of silence so heavy that it envelopes every fabric of their being, Ji-wan begins scrunching up her blouse, a nervous habit.
"Forget it," she says. "I know that Bit-na has kissed girls before. I'll ask her—"
"No!"
"No?"
"No," Sol says, holding Ji-wan's face between her hands. "I'll do it," she says. "I'll help you."
***
Ji-wan tastes like strawberries.
Sol tilts her head up, her one hand splayed across the back of Ji-wan's neck, the other, holding her chin so she can deepen the kiss, until Sol herself begins tasting like strawberries and stardust.
Sol knows that she should have listened to the cautionary tale her heart laid out in front of her. She should've listened to the way her brain recoiled at the very idea of kissing Ji-wan for practice. Nothing good could ever come out of this. Ji-wan will kiss another girl on Friday and many other girls after that, but Sol is weak and in love and cannot fathom not kissing Ji-wan, not when she's asked it herself.
Sol knows that Ji-wan does not need someone to assess her — kissing boys must be very similar to kissing girls, she thinks — and knows that agreeing to this was entirely impetuous on her part, but here Ji-wan was, tasting like strawberries and everything Sol ever wanted. She would have been foolish to resist her.
Ji-wan's arms are coiled around Sol's neck, pushing her closer than before, even though the distance between them now is only separated by their thin clothes.
Gently trailing her fingers from her chin and neck to her waist, Sol hauls her up until Ji-wan settles down on her lap.
They break apart for a moment, Ji-wan's eyes glinting, but dazed, her shiny pink lips still parted, their bodies slotting perfectly together.
It was Ji-wan who kissed her the first time, so Sol takes it upon herself to press their foreheads together and chase her lips. This kiss is less frantic and more gentle. Sol takes her time skimming her hands across Ji-wan's back, tilting her head towards her, trailing her hands everywhere she can reach. Ji-wan's hands find her hair, taking apart the ponytail and running her fingers through it.
Love me, Sol mouths as she kisses her. Love me, love me, love me, love me.
Sol's lips find Ji-wan's jaw, pressing feather-light kisses until she reaches the juncture of her ear and neck. Ji-wan lets out a small noise from the back of her throat and Sol wants to swallow it, wallow in it, keep it safe and sound inside her heart for centuries to come. Sol finds her way to Ji-wan's neck, and she wants to suck a mark there, wants to show the nameless girl that Ji-wan is going on a date with that she was here first, and if given the permission, she will stay here forever — under the crook of Ji-wan's neck, under her palm, or hooked through her ribs; wherever Ji-wan deems fit.
When they break apart this time, Ji-wan opens her eyes, blinks rapidly to erase the remnants of the daze that was clouding them, and smiles so softly that Sol thinks that she's dreaming.
It wouldn't be the first time that she's dreamt something so real, so present.
But Ji-wan's body is warm under her palms, her floral scent draping all of Sol's senses. Ji-wan is as real as she can be.
Sol feels the nervous prick of sweat coat her neck, her heart quickening and stuttering inside her ribs, threatening to break free.
In her dreams, Ji-wan's eyes wouldn't suddenly widen in disbelief, she wouldn't rapidly tap on Sol's shoulders to let her down, she would be able to meet Sol's eyes.
A stone sprouts roots in the centre of Sol's chest.
"Ji-wan?" Sol asks, her voice hoarse. "Did I go too far?"
Ji-wan snaps her eyes towards Sol, does not meet her eyes, and starts rapidly shaking her head. "Not at all," she says, her voice shrill. "But ah, that was— that was so good."
Ji-wan finally meets Sol's eyes, her face dusted in vibrant pink.
"That was?"
Ji-wan, in a series of exaggerated actions, pats Sol's hair as though to flatten it, pinches her cheek, and carefully detaches herself from the bubble of strawberry fuelled dream they shared. "Is that even a question?" she asks, licking her lips. "Kissing girls is so different from kissing boys," she says. "I liked this a lot. Was it, uh, was it good for you?"
"Is that even a question?" Sol asks, only to see a frail smile on Ji-wan's face. "You're a good kisser," she says, trying to be as objective as she can. This was an assessment, after all, not a declaration of her feelings. "You know what you're doing, so it won't be bad for you on Friday, I am sure."
Ji-wan stands up, dusts off her blouse and skirt, and says, "Good. I am— I am so glad that it was good for you because it was obviously so good for me and ah— I think I've to—"
Without sparing Sol another glance, she runs off to her room, slamming the door shut.
Sol sits there, her back still against the leg of their sofa, the plate of half-eaten strawberries and dried strawberry juice in front of her, mocking her. She throws her head back and resists the urge to scream.
Things will, for the lack of a better phrase, not remain the same between them. The air already felt heavy with tension, heavy with Sol's feeling, loosely suspended into the thick air, heavy with words stuck in the cavities of Sol's body.
Sol has got to figure out how to live with the knowledge of how Ji-wan tastes, the small noises she makes, the way her face looks, eyes screwed tightly as she chases Sol's mouth with urgency.
She does not know how to live with the knowledge.
***
They don't talk about it.
The next day, Sol leaves early for the workshop. Ji-wan arrives two hours after she's sure Sol is asleep.
(Sol wasn't asleep. She was waiting for Ji-wan to come home. She could only sleep after hearing their front door creek open and familiar footsteps around the house.)
On Thursday, Sol and Ji-wan share a panicked look between them as they cross each other in their living room.
"Let's leave together?" Ji-wan asks, strangely nervous.
Sol nods her head, and that is it.
They don't talk about it, because there is nothing to talk about.
After dinner, Sol finds herself agreeing to being kissed by Ji-wan again. More practice never hurt anybody, after all.
Sol goes to bed with a heavy heart, her lips aflame with the phantom sensation of Ji-wan's on them.
It's okay, she thinks. It's all okay. She'll be okay.
***
"You're leaving," Sol says on Friday, realising in a startling manner that Ji-wan has a date today. A date. The reason she kissed Sol.
Ji-wan looks ethereal, transcendent. Sol loves her so much.
Nervously, Ji-wan starts pleating the end of her orange dress. "I am," she says. "Did you want something?"
"No," Sol lies, her heart in her throat.
Ji-wan takes a step closer, searching her eyes. "Did you want to say something?"
"No," Sol lies, her heart in her hands.
"Okay," Ji-wan says. "I will leave now."
"Okay," Sol replies. "I hope you have a good time."
Something grey obscures the ever-present golden on Ji-wan's face. "I will, I am sure."
Sol feels her pulse quickening, her hands clenching and unclenching in succession. There is so much that Sol wants to blurt out. So much that will ruin the close friendship they have. But she can't be selfish, cannot risk it by making her feelings Ji-wan's problems too.
But it's okay, she tells herself. This will pass too. She's fine, she's fine, she's fine — and if she repeats it enough, maybe her heart won't feel like it's being stomped on.
Everything is okay, and she is fine.
***
"Something is wrong," says Bit-na, eating her French fry, the same Friday evening when she invites herself to Sol's home with a bag of food. "You're not fine."
"Everything is okay," Sol says, after gulping down half of the soda. "And, I am fine."
Bit-na's eyes narrow suspiciously. "It is not like you to lie."
"I truly need you to stop prying."
"Is it because Ji-wan is on a date?"
"I'm fine, Bit-na!"
"Oh my god, it is, isn't it?"
"Bit-na!"
"Okay, okay, I'll stop," she says, raising her hands in surrender. "I believe you. Everything is okay and you are fine."
***
Ji-wan does not volunteer more information about her date other than saying, "We've to go watch that movie together one day, Sol."
Sol does not ask either.
Two days later, Ji-wan comes bearing another proposition that steals Sol's breath away — literally.
"The barista from that café we regularly go to asked me out," she says, already straddling Sol's lap. "I didn't kiss that girl on Friday and I think I'm unsure about my, uh, technique. Again. Can you help me?"
Sol kicks down the banners of caution her mind provides her with and presses their mouths together, feeling like she can finally breathe, again.
***
They don't talk about it, again.
***
They kiss in the days leading up to Ji-wan's date. Always in the evening, always an hour before going to bed.
Sol finds out all the different ways in which Ji-wan likes being kissed.
Even though an unspoken boundary between them is crossed with no point of return, Sol finds herself putting up a boundary before it gets too much, too fast. Her soul feels bereft after forcefully putting that distance, but it's okay, she tells herself. Sol will live.
***
Everything is okay. She is fine.
***
When Ji-wan comes home from the date, drunk, the sleep immediately leaves Sol, and she stands alert, awake from their couch. She hastily puts her book and blanket away, walking over to help Ji-wan remove her shoes and find her way into their home.
Ji-wan looks at her with a blearily smile, holding onto Sol's waist tightly. "Hi," she grins.
"Hello," Sol greets back, holding onto Ji-wan as she slides on the floor, her head lolling back on the sofa. "Are you alright?"
"Splendid!" Ji-wan answers.
"How was your date?"
Sol blinks one eye open, grinning quite sardonically. "Oh? You didn't ask me how it went last time. This is a step forward, isn't it?"
"You didn't tell me anything either," Sol points out.
Ji-wan huffs, slumping her head on Sol's shoulder. "True," she mumbles. "I guess it was okay."
"Just okay?"
Sol feels Ji-wan nodding her head. “I am so tired, Sol!” she whines, nudging her head closer. Sol suppresses a shudder as she feels Ji-wan’s eyelids flutter shut against her neck. “I am going to fall asleep right here!”
“That’s okay,” Sol says, pressing her fingertips into Ji-wan’s scalp, just the way she likes it.
“You’re the best,” Ji-wan mumbles, sounding half-asleep. “Do you know that? You’re the very best, Sol.”
Sol does not know how to reply without revealing the depth of everything she feels.
"I guess," Ji-wan's whisper is like a knife through the heavy silence between them. "I guess the problem is that no one is you. They don't kiss the way you do."
Sol's heart stops. "Ji-wan, what do you mean?"
A lack of reply prompts Sol to thread her fingers through Ji-wan’s hair, gently tapping her shoulder. "Ji-wan?" she softly calls. “Don’t you know to not say things like this to me?” she whispers too, confident that Ji-wan is asleep. Her breath is steady, her head, heavy.
Ji-wan mumbles something incoherent, and her head sags onto Sol’s chest.
Despite the tumultuous beat of her heart, Sol finds herself smiling, as she cradles Ji-wan’s head, hoping that laying on her lap would be more comfortable for Ji-wan, and drapes her pink blanket over her legs.
“That’s the issue with me, too. I stopped kissing other people because they weren’t you. I wish I could stop looking for you in every person that I meet.”
***
It’s not like Sol was not aware of the bi-monthly queer night at the bar their friend group usually ends up in, but it’s just that she didn’t care enough about it, especially not after the first three months of a new life in a new city.
Two days after Ji-wan had realised that she was bisexual, she’d looked at the poster announcing the queer night happening on the 27th of February stuck outside the bar with contagious glee. “We have to go here!” she’d shrieked. “I didn’t know this was a thing.”
“It is very much a thing,” Sol had answered, resigning herself to the fate of ending up at the party, three weeks before it was happening.
“Have you ever been to one?”
“A few,” Sol had answered. “They’re interesting.” And loud, and crowded, with unfamiliar music blasting through the speakers, making her heart thump to its rhythm.
“Well, you’ve to show me around then!” Ji-wan had said, and that was it.
Now, about two and a half weeks after Sol first made out with her best friend only to help her practice for dates with people that are not Sol, she stands in front of the said best friend, trying not to stare like a creep.
Ji-wan wears a shimmery low-cut lavender blouse — this particular lavender blouse had been imprinted on Sol’s brain ever since she saw Ji-wan wear it for the first time — and a white miniskirt.
Ji-wan catches her looking and winks. “What? I look good, don’t I?”
‘Good’ does not begin to cover it, but Sol nods, nonetheless.
Ji-wan bounds up to her, interlocking their arms together. “Thank you!” she exclaims. “You look great too! When did you buy this skirt?” she asks, gesturing at Sol’s outfit. “I have to borrow it one day,” Ji-wan says, as they make their way outside their home, her head resting on Sol’s shoulder.
“Okay,” Sol readily agrees despite it being her favourite skirt and Ji-wan’s tendency to not return her clothes after she ‘borrows’ them.
The club is crowded by the time they reach there — full of people that Sol recognises the way gay people tend to recognise each other across the campus, and those she does not.
Ji-wan’s face is set in an ever-present grin, taking in the excited clamour of the crowd and picking up the energy of the people there. All eyes are on her and she seems to bask in it, revel in it, but her eyes are only on Sol. There is a sanguine glow to Ji-wan; the only person glowing in the sea of people. Sol is so in love with her that she aches, and aches, and aches.
"Let's dance!" Ji-wan yells over the sound of the thumping music.
Sol is pulled into Ji-wan's arms the minute she agrees to it.
Sinking into Ji-wan's arms as though she's always belonged there should be weird, Sol thinks. It should be weird, especially because they couldn't even look at each other until two days ago, until Ji-wan came home drunk and slept on Sol's lap. But it isn't. It feels as natural as breathing, as natural as her heart beating, the sun rising, the earth revolving.
Colourful lights dance on Ji-Wan's face as she pulls Sol close, her hands curling around her neck. Sol, helplessly in love, holds Ji-wan by her waist and sways unrhythmically to the music.
Ji-wan pulls Sol closer, so that her ear is by Ji-wan's lips.
"Is this how it always is?"
"I think so," Sol replies. Save for a few rainbow lights, the night seems the same as it always does. It must feel different for Ji-wan, though.
"How do you feel?" she asks, resting her chin on Ji-wan's shoulder.
"Good!" Ji-wan cheers. "Like, I didn't even know that there were so many of us here! I truly believed that it would be less crowded. In fact, it is more."
Sol nods, clutching her hands tighter on Ji-wan's waist.
They sway and dance together, sometimes following the rhythm of the songs blasting out of the speakers, and the other times creating their own rhythm entirely, but that does not matter.
What matters to Sol — at this moment and all the others that followed and will follow — is this: Ji-wan's bright smile reserved only for Sol, Ji-wan's warm hands around Sol's, Ji-wan's feet falling in step with Sol, Ji-wan's laughter when Sol dips her, Ji-wan's high-pitched call of Sol's name when she twirls her, Ji-Wan's gaze at times fixated on Sol's lips, the firm grasp on Sol's heart: for now and forever to come, Ji-wan and Ji-wan, and only her.
They break apart when Ji-wan loudly demands that she is thirsty and needs a drink. Sol, helpless to do anything else, clutches her hand and follows, even though she cannot wade through the the crowd of strangers by the bar station. Grateful that the thump of the music here is considerably less, she decides on standing a few feet away, looking at Ji-wan valiantly finding her way towards the bartender, jumping only when she feels a tap against her shoulder.
Hea-woo, one of the queer women on the campus that Sol knows and is familiar with, perhaps a year her senior in another faculty, stands across her with a broad smile on her lips.
"It's been so long since I saw you here," she says, stepping closer. "How are you doing?"
"Good," Sol replies with a smile. "How about you?"
The music picks up volume where they are, causing them to stand closer which isn't entirely ideal, but it's alright. Hea-woo is good company, and Sol does not mind.
"Who are you looking for?" Hea-woo asks, when she notices Sol looking into the crowd of people at the bar station for a sign of lavender. "Are you here with someone?"
"My friend," replies Sol, turning towards Hea-woo. "She went in to get drinks for us and she's not come yet."
Hea-woo laughs. "She'll be back, I am sure. But tell me about you, Sol. Are you dating someone?"
Sol darts her eyes away from Hea-woo. "No, I am not."
Hea-woo's eyes brighten. "Well, if that is the case, call me if you want? You have my number, don't you?"
Sol blinks, before realisation dawns on her. "Oh," she says. "Oh, no," she replies, turning towards Hea-woo.
"Hea-woo, I—"
Hea-woo's eyes widen in understanding. "Ah, you're not seeing someone, but you do like someone," she infers.
Sol says nothing, only turns sideways to examine the crowd in which Ji-wan has disappeared into. "Yeah," she replies, looking back at her.
Hea-woo's nods, gently holding Sol's shoulders. "I get that," she says. "I hope you figure it out, whatever it is."
"Thank you."
Hea-woo smiles, and plants a kiss on the corner of Sol's mouth. "I think I just saw someone I didn't want to see, so I am going to run," she says. "But don't be a stranger, okay? Let's meet up for coffee sometime — as friends, of course."
Sol smiles, patting her back placidly. "I will."
Hea-woo swiftly walks past Sol, disappearing into the crowd.
Sol, out of a habit set in the last sixteen minutes, looks sideways at the crowd that Ji-wan had bravely ventured into, only to meet her distraught face.
Ji-wan's face turns furious when Sol meets her eyes, but the undercurrent of hurt is raw and exposed. Sol instinctively takes a step forward, wondering what caused it, realising that she must've seen Hea-woo kissing Sol's cheek for this anger to be directed towards Sol. But, it shouldn't bother Ji-wan as much as it does — why would it, it's not like Ji-wan would be jealous, because that would imply that she likes—
Oh.
"You're here with me," Ji-wan shouts over the music, coming close enough for Sol to see the shimmer on Ji-wan's skin. "We came here together."
"Ji-wan—"
"If you don't like me back," she starts, letting her shoulder slump.
Oh.
Sol's entire body goes rigid at that.
"If you don't like me back, then just say it instead of making me witness that," Ji-wan says, drinking the entirety of the neon green atrocity of a drink in her hand in one go, and slamming Sol's neat whiskey on the table.
***
Sol finds Ji-wan sitting on the curb outside the bar.
She wordlessly covers Ji-wan's bare arms with her jacket, shuffling close.
"That was Hea-woo," Sol breaks the silence. "She is one of the queer people I know from when I went to these parties. I guess we somewhat keep in touch now. We don't like each other romantically. Not at all."
Ji-wan blinks and nods, holding the jacket close to her.
"Sol," Ji-wan says. "What I said before—"
"Is it true?" Sol asks, urgency seeping in her words. "Do you truly like me?"
Ji-wan looks at Sol, brokenly. "I wore my lavender blouse for you," she says. "I fucking hate this blouse."
Sol looks at her, completely out of depth.
"I hate this blouse but I love the way you look at me when I wear it. So I wore it today, with you. The only person I could see in this crowd today was you, Sol," she says. "I came up with a shitty, stupid excuse to kiss you. So you tell me if what I said is true or not."
"A shitty, stupid excuse?"
"I didn't have any dates," she laughs without mirth. "I had people asking me out, yes, but I could never agree because they're not you, Sol. The only person I want to go on a date with. The only person I want to kiss and be kissed by is you. So I lied and told you that I wanted to practice. I made up a shitty excuse to kiss you that doesn't even make sense because I thought that you could, maybe like me back too! And it really felt like you did, but then—"
"I like you too," says Sol, as hurriedly as she can. "I like you so much. So, so much."
Ji-wan jolts with unbridled astonishment. "You… what?" she cries, turning to hold Sol by her shoulders.
"Why do you think I kept kissing you?" Sol asks with ardour. "I liked you too much to say no. I couldn't. And I wanted to go on dates with you and kiss you without an excuse, but I couldn't."
"You could have," Ji-wan says, nodding in fervour. "You could have. I really, truly wanted you to."
"I didn't know," Sol says, regretfully, slowly cupping Ji-wan's face. "I'm sorry that I didn't."
Ji-wan's eyes flutter close. "You do now," she says. "You know that I like you. I like you so, so much."
"You know that I like you too. I like you so, so much."
Ji-wan's eyes open, a teasing glint quite apparent. "What are you going to do with this information, then?" she asks.
Sol, with her heart fluttering endlessly in her chest, brings Ji-wan closer. With eyes closed, Ji-wan meets her in the middle.
Ji-wan tastes like pineapple and vodka and heaven.
She tastes like everything that Sol wanted, everything that Sol would ever want in her life.
I love you, Sol mouths as she kisses her. Love you, love you, love you.
When they reluctantly break apart, a smile ever-present on Ji-wan's face, she leans in close, pressing their foreheads together, one of Sol's hands on her chest, right where her heart patters frantically. "I love you, too."