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“I’m going to bed,” Hyeju says as soon as she shuts the front door of her apartment behind her, kicking off her shoes next to the mat. A well-practiced underhand toss lands her keys in the bowl on the counter, next to where Jinsol is sitting with her mouth still half-open.
Jinsol closes her mouth momentarily with a pinched expression before opening it again to point out, “You don’t know what I was gonna say.”
“Sooyoung already texted me earlier about that Immersive Van Gogh exhibition, and I hope you know I’d rather try putting nylons on a shaved ferret than go anywhere with you and your girlfriend,” Hyeju tells her roommate as she puts on water to boil. “Toss me a ramen?”
Jinsol chucks her a package and Hyeju catches it one-handed. Crossing her arms, Jinsol says, “Suit yourself, grumpy. I’m just trying to do you a favor by making you go out more. At this rate you’ll grow moss and mushrooms on your back.”
“That’s metal as fuck,” Hyeju mumbles, ripping open a flavor packet with her teeth.
“Be serious!” Jinsol exclaims. “You gotta get out more, dude. At this point you’re gonna undergo adaptive evolution like those subterranean mole rats.”
“Again, metal as fuck,” Hyeju says. “Seriously, Jinsol, go have fun with Sooyoung and don’t worry about me. I had a long day at work and I need to go lie down.”
Jinsol makes a series of incomprehensible grumbling noises before saying, “Okay, fine. I might stay the night at Sooyoung’s, could you watch Blue for me?”
Hyeju glances at the fish circling lazily in the aquarium in the corner of their apartment living room. “Jinsol, he’s a fish. What’s he gonna do? Run away?”
“You never know, I had a dream about it once,” Jinsol says gravely. “The carnage was monumental.”
“Well, as long as he doesn’t bother me,” Hyeju grunts, dropping her ramen noodles into the boiling water.
“Fish have no biases nor morals,” Jinsol says as her phone buzzes. “That’s my ride. Have fun fossilizing in bed, loser!”
“You wish you were me!” Hyeju calls after her as Jinsol shuts the door.
-
Hyeju wakes up with a start. Her room is pitch dark, just the way she likes it, and her bedroom door is closed, just the way she left it. There had been a noise. What was it?
Her phone dings on her nightstand, the display lighting up. Oh, that’s probably what woke her up. Hyeju picks it up to squint at the time. 2:34 A.M. There’s a text notification from Sooyoung; opening it reveals a blurry picture of Jinsol wearing a shirt that reads I GOT HEAD AT THE IMMERSIVE VAN GOGH EXHIBITION!
Hyeju throws her phone back onto her nightstand, gagging. The gag turns into a dry cough and she realizes she’s forgotten her customary glass of water before sleeping. God damn it. She hates the crusade out of her bedroom into the kitchen, but such evils are necessary. Pushing her glasses onto her nose, Hyeju hops out of her bed and makes her way through her apartment. Usually, Jinsol would leave the light next to the front door on, but since she’s not here all the lights are off save for the soft glow emitting from Blue’s aquarium. That’s all Hyeju needs to pick her way towards the kitchen, making sure not to step on any of her potted plants scattered on the floor next to the windows. As she walks past one, the night breeze hits her and makes her shiver.
It’s open.
“What the fuck,” Hyeju grumbles through her teeth as she pulls the window shut. She pulls the shutters for good measure before heading into the kitchen, grabbing a mug, and filling it up with water. Half of it is gone down her throat when she sees the shadowy figure on her couch move.
Hyeju’s throat constricts and she chokes on the water she just drank, her hand slamming the mug onto the counter. Her other hand grabs a rolling pin off the countertop and throws it over-handed in one motion towards the figure.
The intruder turns, and the dim light falls across her face right as she catches the rolling pin in midair.
Hyeju suddenly feels dizzy. “Fuck. Heejin, what the hell are you doing here?”
A beat of silence. Heejin lets the rolling pin fall to the floor. “What, I can’t visit my favorite girl?”
“The last time you visited, someone called a missile strike on my apartment,” Hyeju hisses. She reaches for the knife block at the end of the counter and slowly draws out one of the knives.
“I’ve apologized deeply and profusely for that, and besides, they called it off,” Heejin says. She’s sitting in an odd position, half slumped over. “Didn’t think you were one to hold grudges, Hyeju.”
“I hardly think I was overreacting,” Hyeju says. She tucks the knife into her waistband, making sure to hide the motion behind the kitchen counter.
“Mm, touché,” Heejin hums. Her voice sounds thin.
Hyeju starts to make her way towards the other girl, stepping slowly. “Heejin, why are you here?”
Heejin doesn’t respond until Hyeju is almost directly in front of her. She looks Hyeju up and down and says, “I missed you.”
Hyeju sighs heavily. “Don’t. How the fuck did you even get in here? This is the sixth floor.”
“It was harder trying not to knock over all your potted plants,” Heejin mumbles, tipping her head back onto the back of the couch. Hyeju watches the pale line of her exposed throat, standing out against her dark clothes, and alarm bells go off in her head.
Heejin would never put herself in such a vulnerable position.
Unless…
Hyeju swiftly closes the distance between them, leaning down in front of where Heejin’s seated. She grabs the lapels of Heejin’s jacket and rips it open.
The other girl makes a protesting noise and pushes Hyeju’s hands away, but not before something warm and sticky runs over Hyeju’s fingers. She physically recoils. “Heejin, what the hell?”
“Don’t worry, I made sure I wasn’t followed,” Heejin says with a small chuckle. “Didn’t want to fuck up my final visit.”
“Final visit-” Hyeju shakes her head rapidly and reaches for Heejin’s jacket again, only for the other girl to bat her hands away one more time, staring up at her solidly. “Heejin, let me see it for god’s sake. You’re bleeding out all over my couch.”
“Put your knife away,” Heejin says. “Already been stabbed once tonight, thanks.”
The handle of the kitchen knife digs into Hyeju’s hip and her face heats up as she pulls it out and drops it on the coffee table. “I - I wasn’t going to use it.”
“Old habits, I get it,” Heejin sighs. Her shoulders sag and her hands fall away from her stomach. “Go on. Sorry about your couch.”
Hyeju kneels in front of her, gently pulling her jacket away to reveal her bloodstained shirt. “Jesus Christ, Heejin.”
“Missed the major organs, as far as I can tell,” Heejin says with a wheeze. “The blade was serrated, though.”
Peeling Heejin’s shirt away from her skin, Hyeju sees the entry wound. There’s a steady stream of blood that pulses with every breath Heejin takes. “Shit. Don’t move, I’m gonna get the first aid kit.”
“Don’t bother,” Heejin says. She reaches down to adjust Hyeju’s glasses. “I’m not gonna stay long. Just wanted to drop by and see you one last time before I -”
“Shut up and listen to me,” Hyeju hisses, covering Heejin’s mouth with her hand. “You are not dying on me today, Jeon Heejin. Not when you have my cleaning bill to cover.”
Heejin’s eyes widen slightly upon hearing her full name; something only Hyeju knows. Hyeju takes her hand away and runs for the first aid cabinet in the bathroom.
When she gets back, Heejin has her hand pressed over her wound and her eyes squeezed shut. Her lips are pale. Hyeju puts the kit on the ground and kneels in front of her. “Heejin, move your hands.”
Heejin slowly shifts her hand away, letting more blood fall. “Good luck.”
“Don’t need it,” Hyeju grunts as she starts cutting away Heejin’s shirt.
Heejin lets out a short laugh. “Right. You were always the best. In field, medic, intel, everything.” She winces as Hyeju pushes the remains of her shirt aside. “Still don’t get why you left us all behind.”
“We’ve been over this, Heejin,” Hyeju mumbles as she probes the ragged edges of the wound. “Christ, how much blood did you lose?”
“Blood loss?” Heejin peers down at the hole in her stomach. “No, I know exactly where it is.”
Hyeju restrains the urge to smack herself on the forehead, because she knows she’d leave a red handprint if she did. “Why the hell didn’t you go to medical?”
“I don’t trust them,” Heejin says.
I trust you.
Shaking her head rapidly, Hyeju says, “I’m gonna need to stitch this up.”
“Whatever,” Heejin grunts. “Guess bikinis are out of the question for me now.”
Hyeju snorts as she readies the suture. “And why would you be out and about in a bikini?”
“I go undercover too sometimes, you know,” Heejin says. “Four months ago in the Maldives. Got a tan and everything.”
“And were you undercover this time?” Hyeju asks right as the needle pierces Heejin’s skin.
Heejin’s breath hitches. Her hand comes down to grasp Hyeju’s shoulder, but when she speaks her voice is steady. “Doesn’t matter. Besides, why do you care? You left a long time ago.”
“And it looks like the whole operation fell to shit when I did,” Hyeju says, taking care to line up the wound margins. “You never got hurt this badly when I was around.”
“We always went on missions together, that’s why,” Heejin spits with sudden venom.
“And you were there when I realized the whole thing was bullshit,” Hyeju retorts just as quickly. “You could’ve left with me the same night!”
Heejin closes her eyes. “No, I couldn’t and you know it.”
Hyeju falls silent as she completes the first stitch. For a while there’s only the hum of the aquarium and the sound of Heejin’s shallow breathing. Hyeju pushes her glasses up with the back of her hand and leans closer to Heejin to see better. Where the skin of the other girl’s stomach isn’t covered in a dark film of blood, it’s pale; Hyeju can see remnants of old wounds criss-crossing across her abdomen. She realizes that she knows the origin of each scar.
The two of them had been in the same cohort and the same graduating class, despite Hyeju being a year younger. Heejin, a prodigy herself and already doing field work before official promotion, had taken this as a personal challenge. They didn’t have a serious rivalry, per se; not until they’d been pitted against each other in ssireum for their graduating exam. Hyeju had gone into the sandpit, confident in her superior height and build, and Heejin had winked at her as she grabbed onto her satba before literally sweeping her off her feet. She’d landed on top of Hyeju, and sand had flung up everywhere, getting into Hyeju’s eyes and mouth. The referee was yelling Heejin’s name as the winner, and the exam committee was applauding loudly, and Heejin had pushed herself up from where she was lying diagonally across Hyeju’s chest to hover directly over her. Hyeju was still blinking sand out of her eyes when she felt Heejin’s hair dragging across her cheek, and a low voice had said into her ear, “Maybe next time.”
Hyeju had fallen in love as swiftly as a body from a balcony.
Coincidentally or not, they kept getting assigned to the same missions - Hyeju hadn’t minded, as she had chalked up the palpitating of her heart whenever Heejin was around to just a severe case of annoyance, but the problem was that Heejin was never annoying. Hyeju remembers a brief period of time when she had desperately wished Heejin would just act like a pain in the ass so she could hate her more easily.
But of course, Heejin never made anything easy. She was the ideal mission partner - self-sufficient, resourceful, and just a tiny bit reckless. Or, well, extremely reckless. Thus leading to Hyeju spending countless late nights patching up the other girl while they watched old sitcom reruns.
Hyeju might have fallen in love quickly, but staying in love had been a conscious, painful choice. One that had grated away at her every time Heejin came back to base with more blood outside her body than inside. So she had done the quickest solution. She left.
As if she was reading her thoughts, Heejin says, “You know, I never understood how you could put it all behind you and start again so easily. Look at you, apartment owner with a nine-to-five and a fish. ”
“Not my fish,” Hyeju mumbles as she wipes blood away. “And no, it wasn’t easy.”
Trying to move on from you wasn’t easy.
“Explain to me,” Heejin says, her eyes still closed.
Hyeju breathes out through her nose. Her hands are still steady; it’s muscle memory. Blood clots under her nails. “I did some bad things back then, but I also did some good things. There’s no point beating myself up about the past. I don’t have to walk on my knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.” She completes another stitch, and Heejin’s hand gathers the fabric of Hyeju’s shirt on her shoulder in a white-knuckled grip. “You know, finding joy in small things is the key to survival.”
“No, I don’t know,” Heejin breathes, and it breaks Hyeju’s heart.
“It’s like… when I water my plants in the morning.” Hyeju pauses to push her glasses up on her nose. The bleeding has slowed to a trickle as she pulls more of the wound closed. “Or when I’m doing the dishes and I squeeze the soap bottle and a little bubble comes out.”
Heejin lets out a little shaky laugh. “Oh, Son Hyeju. What happened to the broody badass proficient in both ranged and deranged combat?”
“I got a nine-to-five and a roommate with a fish,” Hyeju says.
There’s a pause. It lingers, and Hyeju glances up from her stitches in panic to check if Heejin fainted. “Heejin?”
No answer. Hyeju pushes herself up to shake Heejin’s shoulder, then taps the flat of her hand against Heejin’s face when there’s no response. “Heejin, wake up!”
Heejin suddenly catches her hand as she opens her eyes. “That hurts.”
Their faces are close enough so that Hyeju can see Heejin’s pupils dilate. She leans back, off balance. “Let go of me. I need to finish the stitches.”
Heejin releases her hand, blinking slowly. “That hurts too.”
“I’m almost done.” Hyeju picks up the needle again. “You’ve never been stabbed before, huh?”
“Fuck kind of question is that?” Heejin shifts slightly and winces. “Of course not. They never got close enough.”
Hyeju bites her lip. “What changed?”
Heejin breathes - in, out - before replying. “I got tired.”
Hyeju glances up at her sharply, just to see her already looking back. “You got tired?”
“There are terrible things that never get easier, and there are things even more terrible that get easier with time and repetition,” Heejin says flatly.
“Our cohort motto,” Hyeju mumbles.
Heejin reaches down to push Hyeju’s glasses back up her nose. “I got tired of the time and repetition.”
“So you went and tried to get yourself killed?” Hyeju asks, being careful to keep her voice level.
Heejin blinks in surprise, then laughs. “No, idiot. I was on my way to see you.”
Hyeju looks up from her surgeon’s knot in surprise.
“I went MIA five and a half weeks ago right after the last job,” Heejin says. “They thought I got killed. Laid low for a while, then on my way to find you I got mugged by some fucking kids.” She leans her head back. “I was completely unprepared. Didn’t try to fight them.”
“Jesus, Heejin,” Hyeju says.
“This was not the reunion I planned,” Heejin breathes, then coughs wetly. Blood streaks down from her lip, split from her teeth repeatedly sinking into it. The stitching must have hurt more than she’d let on.
Hyeju snips off the excess from the knot and grabs a pad from the first aid kit. “It’s okay. I’m all done.” She wipes the blood from Heejin’s mouth. “Heejin? We gotta go to the bathroom so I can wash the blood off. Can you stand?”
“Can I -“ Heejin breaks off into a giggle. “Hyeju, I climbed up six floors and through your apartment window with a three-inch-deep hole in my stomach.”
“Yeah and now you’re crashing from the adrenaline.” Hyeju gets to her feet, wiping her bloody hands on her shirt. “I’m gonna carry you.”
One arm slips under Heejin’s knees, the other circles her back; Heejin is stronger than she looks, but Hyeju lifts her like she weighs nothing. As she straightens up with Heejin in her arms, Hyeju suddenly wonders what they look like - herself, in plaid pajama bottoms and an oversized shirt that she wears to bed, now smeared with blood, her glasses slipping down her nose, and Heejin cradled against her chest, dressed head to toe in tactical black canvas and leather. She suddenly can’t help but grin at the dichotomy.
Heejin peers up at her. “What’s funny?”
Hyeju shakes her head and starts walking towards the bathroom. “I’ll need to give you some of my clothes.”
“You already tore up this one,” Heejin mutters, glancing down at her sliced up shirt before tucking her head into Hyeju’s shoulder.
Hyeju can feel her soft breath against her collarbone. She steels herself and pushes the bathroom door open with her foot, using her elbow to turn on the light. “Yeah, not like I was trying to save your life or anything.”
Heejin yelps at the sudden brightness and pushes her face into Hyeju’s shirt. “Ow, my fucking eyes!”
Hyeju hooks her foot around the edge of the shower curtain and pulls it back. She tries to lower Heejin into the tub, but the other girl makes a prolonged noise of protest and tightens her grip around Hyeju’s neck, her face still buried in her shoulder. Hyeju tries to pry her arms free with no success and says, “You scaled my apartment building with a knife wound and sat through nine stitches without a peep, but now you wanna raise hell because the light is too bright?”
“You smell nice,” Heejin says, voice muffled.
“Heejin, my shirt is covered with blood and I’m gonna drop you any second now,” Hyeju says.
Heejin pulls away just enough to squint at her. “Sounds just like our third joint mission together. The one with the bungee cords and the Burj Khalifa. Remember?”
Hyeju does. “Let go of me, Heejin.”
Heejin’s eyes start to unfocus. “Yeah, that’s what you said word for word… am I hallucinating from blood loss?”
“I need to take off your clothes,” Hyeju tells her.
“Definitely hallucinating,” Heejin mumbles, and loosens her grip.
Peeling Heejin’s blood soaked shirt off is easy, seeing as how it’s cut down the middle, but her pants are a bit more of a challenge. Heejin offers no help as Hyeju wrenches the buckle open at her waist; as she pulls the fabric down, Hyeju can feel at least three knives hidden inside the pants legs. Normally Heejin would carry twice the number. Guess she’s really retired, Hyeju thinks. She throws the pile of bloody clothes next to the toilet and says, “Hope you don’t mind but you’re not getting those back.”
Heejin makes an abstract noise and leans her head back against the side of the tub. Hyeju scrubs her hands clean in the sink and leaves the tap on, piling washcloths in the sink basin to soak. She wrings one out and kneels next to the tub.
“Tell me if it hurts,” Hyeju says, and starts wiping at the blood on Heejin’s stomach.
Whether it hurts or not, Heejin gives no indication other than her eyelids fluttering every time Hyeju passes the washcloth near the fresh stitches. Hyeju can tell she’s feeling the aftereffects of the adrenaline rush wearing off, all of her senses probably overloading and giving out. In an effort to keep her conscious, Hyeju says, “I’ve been working at a bowling alley, you know.”
“Do tell,” Heejin says, her voice strained. “You any good?”
Hyeju hums. “I used to be kind of dogshit at it but I’ve been practicing. Apparently the secret is in the footwork.”
“I’ve never tried bowling before,” Heejin says.
“I’ll take you sometime,” Hyeju tells her.
Heejin doesn’t respond. Hyeju glances at her face to see her biting her lip again, eyes closed. She pauses her wiping with the washcloth to tug Heejin’s lip free with her thumb, catching the bead of blood forming there as she does so. “Hey, don’t do that.”
Heejin opens her eyes slowly. “Sorry. My body hurts everywhere.”
Hyeju gets a fresh washcloth and presses it to Heejin’s mouth. “You’ll be okay.”
Heejin waits for her to move down to her neck before saying, “You know, if I had gone back to HQ for help they'd have put me down like a wounded animal.”
Hyeju’s wrist twitches. “You’re never gonna have to go back there again.”
“God,” Heejin sighs, closing her eyes again, “it sounds too good to be true.”
Hyeju gently lifts Heejin’s knee to run the washcloth down her thigh. “When I left, I made a lot of mistakes. Wasted almost a year running through aliases trying to get them off my tail. I know what it’s like.”
The offer is left unspoken. Hyeju knows how aggressively self-sufficient Heejin is. However implied, it hangs in the air as Heejin breathes shallowly. Hyeju switches to the other leg. Her skin is soft under her fingers.
I’m here for you.
Finally, Heejin says, “I’d like to learn how to bowl.”
Hyeju suppresses a ridiculous grin. “You’d kick my ass.”
“Damn straight,” Heejin declares, and winces. “Ah, fuck.”
Dropping the wad of pink-stained washcloths on top of Heejin’s bloody clothes, Hyeju sits on the edge of the tub and pushes Heejin’s hair away from her face. “I’m gonna go grab you some clothes. Be right back.”
Heejin grabs her hand as she’s standing. “Can I stay with you tonight?”
Her voice is smaller than Hyeju’s ever heard it. Something squeezes inside her ribcage. “You can stay as long as you want.”
When Hyeju returns, wearing a new shirt and juggling a fresh set of clothes and a roll of gauze in her arms, Heejin has fallen asleep, exhaustion marring every line of her body. Hyeju kneels next to the tub again, not wanting to wake her up just yet. In all her years of knowing Heejin, she’s never seen the other girl quite so vulnerable - not that Heejin actively tried to hide any weakness whenever they worked together, but that Heejin was just, perhaps, simply indomitable.
Hyeju had gone to France, once, and picked up some of the language. Now she barely remembers any of it but one word stuck with her, because of how it reminded her of Heejin: elán, the rare combination of pure bold energy, grace, and dash. Hyeju knows Heejin doesn’t need protecting, but, seeing her like this, maybe she can try.
Hyeju touches the side of her face gently. “Heejin, I’m gonna wrap up your wound and get you dressed. We can sleep after.”
There’s a long pause, then Heejin opens one eye. “Promise?”
“Promise,” Hyeju tells her.
Blood still stains the gauze as Hyeju wraps it around Heejin’s stomach, but it’s no more than a manageable trickle. Heejin falls asleep again as Hyeju wrestles on her clothes as carefully as she can, and doesn’t move except to latch her arms around Hyeju’s neck as she lifts her up.
The journey to Hyeju’s bedroom is casualty free, what with Hyeju taking an embarrassing amount of effort not to knock Heejin’s head against her doorframe, and almost tripping over her laundry bag on the floor on her way to the bed. Heejin doesn’t acknowledge the turbulence and stays limp as Hyeju tugs the blanket back to lay her down. Her arms stay loosely wrapped around Hyeju’s neck as Hyeju bends over her to tuck the pillow under her head and to pull her shirt down over the fresh bandage. Hyeju straightens up and the other girl’s arms fall away; she catches Heejin’s hands before they can smack down onto the bed.
Hyeju puts Heejin’s hands down and starts to move away, but she’s abruptly grabbed again. Heejin’s deep voice, slow with sleep, says, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Uh, to get another blanket?” Hyeju answers. “I’ll camp out on the floor.”
“No the hell you’re not,” Heejin mumbles, tugging Hyeju’s hands weakly. Her eyes are barely open and Hyeju can tell she’s fighting to stay awake. She mentally compiles a list of reasons to decline, immediately decides they’re all bullshit reasons, and pulls back the blanket to lie down next to the other girl.
Heejin makes a soft, pleased noise that does unnecessary things to Hyeju’s heart and closes her eyes. She lifts her head despite Hyeju’s alarmed protest and settles it on Hyeju’s shoulder, tucking herself into Hyeju’s side. Her hand moves under the blanket, fumbling blindly, and Hyeju takes it in her own.
Eyes still closed, Heejin mumbles, “You just might be my first real problem.”
Hyeju blinks slowly as she stares up into the dark. “Go to sleep, Heejin.”
A pause. Heejin says, “You’re not gonna ask why?”
“Save it for tomorrow,” Hyeju answers.
For a while there’s no sound except for their combined breathing. Hyeju watches Heejin’s chest rise and fall. The silence extends, until Hyeju falls asleep.
-
She wakes up with a numb arm and the sun streaming through her blinds.
Hyeju doesn’t remember why her arm is numb, but then the night’s events come crashing back into her memory and she realizes the weight that had caused the numbness is very much gone. Scrambling upright in a panic, Hyeju throws back the blanket in the otherwise empty bed and runs out of her bedroom.
A quick survey of the apartment shows that everything belonging to Heejin - the bloody pieces of fabric in the living room and the pile of clothes in the bathroom - has disappeared, including Heejin herself. The only evidence of her presence is the patch of dried blood in the center of the couch, next to which is a note, ripped off from Jinsol’s memo pad on the fridge. It reads, in Heejin’s unmistakable handwriting, Wait for me.
Paper-clipped to the note is a wad of bills “for a new couch”, as is written in the memo line. Hyeju rolls her eyes when she sees it - realistically, she knows she should be upset or maybe a bit offended at Heejin leaving so abruptly, but she knows how the other girl operates. There’s no point in all that so instead she starts brainstorming how to explain to Jinsol why there is a giant spot of dried blood on their couch.
-
The exposure of an international network of mercenaries-for-hire makes headlines for a week. Hyeju goes to work every day at the bowling alley, feeds Jinsol’s fish whenever she’s away, sends Sooyoung cryptic messages and leaves her on read. She knows Heejin will find her whenever she’s ready.
-
Heejin finds her a month later at the bowling alley.
It’s late in the evening and the lanes are all empty. Hyeju is the only employee on deck, and she’s keeping an eye on a group of teenagers in the arcade area when a distinctive low voice says, “Do you give bowling lessons?”
Something crashes inside Hyeju’s ribcage. She says, “Not to just anybody, no.”
Heejin lifts one eyebrow. She’s wearing soft jeans and a t-shirt, and her hair is parted in the middle and tucked behind her ears, and she looks for all intents and purposes like one of the cute girls from the community college. Heejin’s other eyebrow goes up and she says, “Cute enough for a bowling lesson, I hope?”
Shit. Did she say that out loud? Feeling her ears redden, Hyeju leans against the counter in a last-bid effort to keep cool and says, “No guarantees it’ll be a good one.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Heejin says and grabs Hyeju’s hand to pull her towards the nearest lane.
Heejin’s hand is tight around hers, and if this is some kind of hyper-realistic hallucination Hyeju is experiencing from succumbing to carbon monoxide poisoning after Jinsol left the gas range on again, it must be a pretty damn good one. She silently manifests herself to be a prodigy at bowling and picks one of the balls off the rack.
“Uh, well, so you put your feet like this,” Hyeju says, planting herself at a diagonal, “then you kinda wind up your arm and chuck the ball at those pins at the end.”
Hyeju’s ball thuds gracelessly against the wood and careens down the lane to smack down the center pins, leaving the rest split.
“Damn,” Hyeju says.
Heejin hefts another ball. “Stand aside, hotshot. This shit looks easy.”
Hyeju barely gets out of the way in time before Heejin flings the ball down the lane and immediately lands it into the gutter.
“Huh, pretty close,” Heejin says.
Scratching her head, Hyeju ventures, “I’m no expert but I’m fairly sure there were at least two things that could have been done differently there.”
“Two?!” Heejin looks genuinely shocked. “Enlighten me.”
“Well, first,” Hyeju goes to stand next to Heejin at the line, getting into the stance that she learned from a youtube video. “You stand one foot forward like this, and angle your hips in a diagonal.”
Heejin mirrors her, and it’s good, but not quite. Hyeju says, “Angle a little more,” and Heejin responds, “Like what?”
A memory prickles in the back of Hyeju’s mind. Heejin likes to act dense sometimes to provoke a rise out of her, given Hyeju’s generally lethargic personality, and it mostly was just a waste of time. Hyeju never responded but that was back when she couldn’t afford to act a fool. Now, she’s just a twenty-something idiot with a ridiculous crush, and maybe she can let herself be selfish for a little.
Hyeju reaches out and settles her hands lightly on Heejin’s hips, turning them to the correct angle. She can feel Heejin’s gaze burning onto her face despite keeping her eyes focused downward. “There, like that.”
“Okay, that’s the first thing,” Heejin says, her voice much softer. “What’s the second?”
Hyeju is suddenly, painfully aware of how close they are. “The second thing is that you have to keep your eyes on the target.”
Hyeju is also aware of how Heejin is still looking straight at her and hasn’t looked away this whole time. What she is not aware of until it’s too late is Heejin’s hand coming up to cradle Hyeju’s chin, lifting her head, her thumb resting just under Hyeju’s lower lip.
Feeling her mental faculties shutting down, because Heejin is looking at her with an expression that she doesn’t dare to decipher, Hyeju can barely collect herself before Heejin leans forward swiftly to press her lips against her own.
Hyeju’s fingers tighten reflexively around Heejin’s waist, and Heejin loops her other arm around Hyeju’s neck to pull her in closer. Hyeju hasn’t indulged herself much in imagining what kissing Heejin would be like, but she knows nothing she could’ve come up with would compare to the real thing. She tilts her head to kiss her deeper and immediately feels dizzy from the resulting soft sound Heejin makes in the back of her throat.
A chorus of piercing whoops suddenly cuts through the air, and the two of them spring apart, Hyeju looking around in panic. The group of kids in the arcade had apparently scored a record in skeeball and Hyeju is about to start roaring bloody murder but then she remembers that she actually needs this job, and besides, Heejin is laughing and she hasn’t seen anything this beautiful in years.
Heejin calms down enough to say, “I think I owe you an apology.”
Hyeju frowns in confusion. “No need, that was the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life.”
“Oh my god,” Heejin groans, shoving Hyeju’s shoulder. Her cheeks are flushed pink much to Hyeju’s delight.
“As I was saying,” Heejin continues, “you should know that when I got skewered and showed up at your place and you stitched me up, when I woke up in your bed and you were lying there next to me with both of your arms around me, I realized that I wanted to wake up like that every day for the rest of my life.”
“Ah,” Hyeju says intelligently. “Well, in that case, you should know that I’ve been in love with you ever since you cracked two of my ribs during our graduation exam.”
Heejin bursts out laughing, then trails off at Hyeju’s expression. “Wait, you’re serious?”
Hyeju leans down and presses her forehead against Heejin’s shoulder to hide her reddening cheeks. Heejin starts laughing again and plants kisses along Hyeju’s temple, which doesn’t help the heat rushing to her face. “And this whole time I thought you hated me!” Heejin says.
“No, I was just emotionally constipated,” Hyeju mumbles. “Wait, what were you gonna apologize for?”
“Oh yeah,” Heejin continues, “I didn’t want to leave the way that I did that morning, but they tracked my location and directed a missile strike to your apartment.”
Hyeju snaps her head up from Heejin’s shoulder. “AGAIN?”
“Don’t worry, I left quick enough that the tracking system got diverted!” Heejin says hastily. “Now there’s a small warhead embedded somewhere in the bottom of a lake thirty miles from here, just so you know.”
“Well, sounds like a problem for the government,” Hyeju says. “My top priority right now is teaching you how to bowl.”
“Mine is to make up for lost time,” Heejin tells her and leans in to kiss her again.