Archive of Our Own ^beta

Gahyeon’s first impression of Handong was… complicated. 

It was hard to tell if it was good or bad. Could be neither, but could also be a little bit of both, she wasn’t sure. The only thing she was sure about the woman was that she would be the trouble of her life. Yeah, maybe it would be the best description of the red-haired woman. A trouble. A pain in the ass. 

A femme fatale. 

Maybe it wasn’t exactly the bartender’s first impression of her. All she remembered was that the woman, just like any other guest, came to the counter, sitting down, enjoying her drink alone. But unlike other guests, she ordered a juice. Also unlike other guests, she had a recorder hidden in the small front pocket of her beige, loose shirt. Gahyeon’s eyes finally left the woman to land on another guy sitting near them both, a hint of knowing lifting her lip corner up. 

Turned out she wasn’t the only one working at this time of the night. 

“Do you mind turning your stalking device off? Please respect our guests’ privacy while we’re in a bar, reporter-ssi.”

The hand elegantly holding a cigarette stopped in mid-air. The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. Gahyeon had made sure to speak loudly enough to inform the tipsy celebrity who was babbling probably too much, and her female guest knew that it was intentional too. Startled, the guy immediately stopped talking, turning his head around in caution, only to see an eye-battle between the red haired woman and her. It was pretty intense. And on an equal ground, too. 

Or at least, the small bartender wanted to say so. It would be a little less embarrassing, not admitting that she was the underdog. If only this lady was less pretty, she mentally cursed. Or her gaze was less sparklingly distracting. Or her smirk wasn’t that annoyingly attractive, with zero annoyance or displeasure by the way. It almost had Gahyeon yielded. Almost. Out of confusion, not out of being whipped. 

…

Okay, about seventy percent confusion, thirty percent being whipped, but her point still stood. 

“Oh my…” Pulling out a running recorder, her guest tilted her head, switching off the device, giving her leaving target one last glance before fixing her dreamy gaze on the young bartender. “Sharp eyes, I see. You didn’t happen to be bitten by an owl, did you?”

If her midget ass was weak against the red-haired’s deep, rich voice, which it wasn’t…

“I’m not an owl-woman by any chance, even though it does sound amazing.” Trying to keep her face straight, she playfully smiled, polite and professional. “And having sharp eyes is listed in my job description. You might wanna find something that doesn’t flash light, reporter-ssi. It’s very easy to notice in this lighting condition.”

The woman hummed, gracefully took a sip of her juice. How the hell did she manage to keep Gahyeon’s gaze on her just by doing so, she had absolutely no idea. Maybe it was simply because she was that beautiful. Or maybe, it was just because she wasn’t mad at her even though she had just literally ruined her news hunting night. Only amusement was written on her face, which was unexpected.

A very pleasant surprise.

“Say, which kind of employer would include sharp vision in the job description by the way?”

“Me.” She gave her a wink while polishing a wine glass. “A standard I set for myself. Comes in pretty handy sometimes if you ask.”

“So it’s not because you’ve been checking me out everytime you think I didn’t notice?”

Ignoring her guest’s knowing smirk and the heat crawling to her ears hidden behind her short bob, the bartender smiled instead of answering. 

When it was embarrassing to say yes and unprofessional to tell a lie, staying in a grey zone of silence was the best. Besides, Handong’s eyes were shining and looking at her so intensely, and the woman herself was a trouble she couldn’t be annoyed at. It wasn’t her fault for temporarily malfunctioning.

It. Definitely. Was. Not.

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That wasn’t the last time Handong came to Gahyeon’s bar.

The bartender couldn’t help but notice that despite being a reporter who had to work on a very irregular schedule, the red-haired woman wasn’t the adventurous type. She always ordered the same drink, sitting at the same seat, coming on every Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday, without her celebrities, recorder and paperwork. Her timing might differ though. Depending on her workload, it could vary from nine to two, but Gahyeon would always find that red head of hers waiting at the counter, either sipping on her cranberry juice or staring at her with the same intense gaze. Always scratching her chest a bit. Always making it itchy as hell. Always managing to draw her closer and closer despite all the annoyance it gave to her as a free but unwanted bonus. 

On a fine day, the younger found herself having a new habit of putting a reservation sign on Handong’s favourite seat. Which was also annoying, but for two other obvious reasons she didn’t want to admit.

Anyways.

Handong must be the type that found more comfort in familiarity, the short-haired reckoned. And she wasn’t the type to talk, either. Their conversations weren’t that long. Mostly, it was something like this.

“You shouldn’t drink just juice if you haven’t had your dinner yet, reporter Han.”

“Oh, should I drink alcohol instead, bartender Lee?”

Followed by some kind of bicker, no bites, all barks. And against her mischievous smirk, Gahyeon would either sigh or roll her eyes, depending on her mood, then pull out a bento box or whatever she could snatch at a convenient store before her shift started. Yes, besides the reservation sign, this was another new habit she had acquired just because she couldn’t stand both the grumbles of the elder’s tummy (not that audible among the random jazzy groovy tune from the bar speaker, but still) and her wince in pain when her stomach decided to riot more intensely and severely.

(“And you said you didn’t have a crush on her…” Said Leedo, who happened to be the colleague she couldn’t and wouldn’t get rid of, with a smirk.

“For the 263th time.” She despondently rolled her eyes. “I don’t.”)

Other than that, they just had some small talks. About nothing and everything. Maybe. The bartender couldn’t remember in detail. But she could remember picking out some small facts about the reporter from the small things she had casually and nonchalantly mentioned. Like she loved spicy food and shopping. Like she did love drinking but never ordered alcohol at Gahyeon’s counter, making her wonder but never telling her why. Or she also loved teasing and was an expert in flirting, enjoying the short-haired’s blushing face whenever she got a chance to whisper in her ear, which was hard to count because it happened so often that she had already lost track. 

Or besides being an absolute flirter, Handong was a workaholic that disliked empty vessel people. She did more than she talked. She would marry her job if it was a beautiful lady with a physical body. She hated idiots who might turn her fiance into an ugly mess because they were busy talking too much and doing nothing, before drily ending her fifteen-minute TED talk with the fakest sincere thanks and the most unapologetic apology she had ever heard, all sent to those mentioned dumbasses who must be sneezing their heads off in their rooms at the moment.

“Does it do you any good if they call in sick? You’ll have to do all the work on your own.”

“One, I’m Batman, let me do all the work and I’ll thank them for not distracting me with their useless flirts and catcalls, and two, what difference does it make? I still do almost everything in the end.”

Gahyeon didn’t laugh at her sarcasm as if it was the funniest thing on earth by the way. Leedo was lying. She just smiled. She might burst into a very quiet and short laughter once or twice, and that was it. Oh yes, did she mention that Handong was gay? She was. Surprise, surprise? And no, the younger’s heart didn’t tap dance and she didn’t wear that stupid grin on her face a few days later. Leedo was definitely lying about this too, end of story.

Anyways.

Another thing the bartender could remember was Handong's jewellery-free hands and delicate shoulders, sometimes clenching and sometimes relaxing, wordlessly informing her of the woman’s mood. Either happy or sad, either excited or tired, either frustrated or just not really feeling anything, this woman would never say no matter how hard she tried to get her to put down her burden.

All hiding, no talking, very annoying, but she still knew anyway. Slowly but unconsciously carving everything in her head even, which she was absolutely unapologetic for, because so far, it was the proudest thing she had ever achieved personally.

But Handong didn’t need to know it. Which was fair, Gahyeon mentally reminded herself while clearing the emptied bento, suppressing her urge to ruin her perfect irritated facade with a smile in pure joy.

That red haired woman was already the incarnation of annoyance. From her genuine smile to her playful smirk, from her rich laugh to her deep voice, then her bright eyes and beautiful face, her charisma and her confidence… 

Her very existence was annoying enough. 

And the fact that the bartender was unable to be mad at either her teases, her flirts, or the woman herself…

… 

Well, okay, maybe Leedo didn’t lie. Maybe Gahyeon did have a crush on Handong, but the point was, Handong didn’t need to know how hard Gahyeon had fallen. 

She absolutely did not.

------------------------------------------

Handong knew how hard Gahyeon fell, by the way.

It was a Sunday night. Raining, quiet and boring, especially when the reservation sign was silently pissing the short-haired off every minute she couldn’t hide it before a specific reporter came. The clock ticking, even though she couldn’t hear amidst Leedo’s pep talks and jazz songs, didn’t help. The chicken bap sitting uselessly in her bag and the fact that she had made it all by herself after countless tries and failures didn’t, either.

Actually, the small bartender had to resist the urge to throw it into the nearest bin. If only wasting food wasn’t a sin. But seriously, she clicked her tongue for the thirty-secondth time, where the heck was she? Did she catch a cold? Or was she busy with work? Couldn’t she just send her a text to tell if something happened? 

Gahyeon’s fingers stopped tapping on the wooden counter. It came to her all of a sudden that Handong didn’t have her number by any chance. 

…

But she could google their bar phone number hello?

…

In the end, her frustration still faded, and when Gahyeon finished her boring shift, she reluctantly but finally admitted that she was worried more than she was annoyed. And it showed that her worries made absolute sense, because the moment she stepped outside…

In the pouring rain, she saw Handong. Her face wasn’t that easy to notice, but she couldn’t miss the woman’s fiery red hair even under the storm raging above their heads. No umbrella, no poncho. Just herself, drenching in the rain and thunder, not even bothering to find a shelter to stay. 

Gahyeon almost threw away her umbrella too, as she hastily ran towards the elder, ignoring the cold rain splashing into her clothes and face.

“Just… For the love of God, what the…” Pulling her under the red parasol, the bartender swallowed back the urge to scold. “When did you…? Where’s your car? Why didn’t you come inside?”

“To soak your entire bar and make you clean after my mess? No thanks.”

The bartender wanted to retort something witty, but she had never known Handong’s smile could be that sad. She had never known it could hit her chest that hard either, but that didn’t matter now. Not bothering to pick up a fight, she quickly pulled the woman back into the bar, giving her a towel before urging her into her car without saying a word. To her surprise though, the reporter didn’t object to any of her wordless commands. Just quietly obeying her until they were warmly covered in the comfortable sound of silence inside the younger’s vehicle, totally separated from the rain lashing outside.

“Sorry…”

Clenching her jaws, Gahyeon didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want her to feel too heavy about it, but she didn’t want to say it was okay when it definitely was not either. 

“Are you mad at me?”

She hesitated for a second or two. 

“No…” Sighing, the younger finally glanced at her companion. “I did hope you weren’t this stubborn, but that’s… you-like anyway.” Her eyes caught the red-haired’s tired smile. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

Silence passed by for a minute, before…

“Can I stay at your place tonight?” 

Of course, Gahyeon noticed that her companion had avoided sharing her burden with her again. And of course, the small drop of disappointment stirring her chest didn’t help her reject this very un-Handong-like request, as always. Not just because she had a studio for herself, but… Would she ever be able to say no to her? Or more importantly, would she ever want to say no to her either? 

The younger wasn’t sure if she wanted to answer those questions. She wasn’t sure what she really wanted either, so she took the woman home instead. Preparing for the sofa she would sleep on tonight while waiting for her… guest (?) to take a shower. And stunned like an idiot, blood and heat shot straight to her face and ears when Handong stepped out of that goddamn bathroom, swimming in the giant t-shirt hiding her pair of shorts but not her toned, straight thighs, damp hair falling on one side of her shoulder, revealing her neck and sexy collarbone, inviting and… 

Gahyeon immediately turned away. 

For fucking God’s sake… That woman had no business being this hot, she silently screamed in protest. Even the air was steaming too, and for the first time tonight, she was thankful that Handong was, indeed, not in the mood for flirting as she usually was. Not something cheer-worthy, but at least, it kept her LGBT thoughts and gay panic at bay. Maybe. Hopefully.

The bartender took a few deep breaths, slowly calming down. The rain lashing on the world outside their tiny haven helped. And Handong’s next abnormal request did, too.

“Thanks…” After glancing at the couch, the woman tilted her head a little before putting her attention on the small spirit cabinet behind her back. “Can you make me a drink tonight, bartender Lee? Anything that you think is good?”

Gahyeon blinked to make sure she didn’t mishear it. It turned out she didn’t. And when she realised that this red-haired reporter, independent and strong, was coming to her, for the first time, to find some kind of help just like most of her guests, her bartender mode was turned on. She carefully looked Handong in the eye, trying to read what lay in there. To suppress something unpleasant poking her chest, catching a vague hint of what was hidden behind those glassy irises. In them, she found no stars. She found no teases. She just found exhaustion, despondence and… disappointment, too? It felt like she was a bit… lost. Like she was about to drown, but she had no idea of what to do to stay afloat.

And Gahyeon knew what she could do.

Somehow, thinking about how this woman liked teasing her in that way, it really fitted, so wordlessly, her lips curled up, and her hands got into work. Shaker, glass and ice. Whiskey, vermouth, dry and sweet. The sound of ice, the flow of spirit and the air movement combined in both the metal equipment and her mind, quickly reaching the perfection stage. Three more seconds. Two. One. Cap off. And strained. Listened carefully to the sound of the flow, from the shaker to the glass. Steady. Soft. Beautiful. 

Like Handong’s soft hum escaping from her larynx.

“Nice…” The elder arched an eyebrow at the drink. “What’s it called?”

The bartender lowered her gaze, looking at the present she had for her one-night tenant, letting a few seconds of silence glide past them both, before…

“The name is Whisper.” Sliding the glass towards her, she slightly bowed. “Please, enjoy.”

Handong didn’t drink it right away. The reporter, with her two small mazes nesting in her irises, stared at her for a while, her expression half blending in the dark, hard to see and completely unreadable.

“Whisper…” Her voice was even richer and deeper than usual, turning Gahyeon’s knees into jelly more easily than she wanted to admit. “Any story or advice behind that name like you nosey bartenders always like to invent to console people?”

The younger chuckled. Nosey was a pretty accurate word choice, that she wouldn’t deny. And the red-haired was right. Bartenders existed for a reason, at least, that was what she believed in. That was what she had been proud of, and it was what she had been striving for. There was always something behind every single cocktail that could comfort the soul of anyone who sought her help. Anyone who was tired of everything they met outside the heavy door of her bar.

Or of her studio, in this case.

Thinking about the sound scratching her chest recently, she mentally shook her head, lips slightly curling.

“A reminder for you to listen closely to the whisper muffled by everything else when you grew up, I guess.” Meeting the woman raising her eyebrow in confusion, she simply explained, voice soft and soothing. “The whisper you use to talk to yourself. Telling you what you need without any judgement. I believe whenever you feel exhausted or uncertain, it’s just because that sound has been ignored for too long that it needs to be heard. By no one other than you.”

The reporter didn’t say anything for a while, just as Gahyeon had guessed.

She looked at the cocktail she had made, as if she was trying to listen to its voice, too. Honestly, it was a risky choice for her as well. Too personal. Too ambiguous. She wasn’t sure if she was talking to Handong or herself. She wasn’t sure if what she had said was meant to be for Handong or her either. Probably it was for them both. Somehow, it felt like it was for them both.

She couldn’t say she minded, though.

“So to know where to go, I should try listening to it?”

Against the red-haired’s amusing smirk, the bartender nodded. 

“But it’s very quiet.” Her smile faded a little. “Very hard to notice.”

“You don't think I can hear it?”

Now, she sighed. It wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t necessarily right either.

“Can or cannot was never the question, reporter Han.” Gahyeon looked deeply into her eyes. “If my thoughts matter to you, I just think among all the vortexes swirling around you, you’ve never let yourself relax long enough to listen to that soft voice of your heart, that’s all.”

For some reason, Handong seemed like she had lost her words. And the younger bartender didn’t blame her. She didn’t mean to say it with a hidden meaning, neither was she trying to convey something extra, but somehow, it sounded just like that. The air was stirred when silence dropped, and under the elder’s warm, softening gaze, her heart thundered, louder and clearer than the storm. She didn’t know what the woman’s heart was telling her, neither did she know if this annoying reporter could hear that soft whisper or not. She wasn't sure what happened to her, because this stubborn woman never told her anything that mattered, but… 

She did know her own heart. She had heard her own whisper. She knew exactly whatever sneaked under her skin, too. Making her tremble. Making her itch. Making her want to erase the gap between them, and it took her all the will power she had to not be that rude.

“Do you remember?” The red-haired suddenly changed the topic, a faint smile forming on a corner of her lips when seeing Gahyeon’s confusion. “You asked me why I’d never ordered a drink from you?” 

The bartender raised an eyebrow, not sure which direction this talk would take. “Yes?”

Handong hummed, long fingers absentmindedly caressing the base of the untouched cocktail glass. 

“A bartender is kinda like a therapist, aren’t they?” She finally chuckled. “If you’re my bartender, serving me drinks, waiting for me to come and comforting me whenever I need, it’s gonna be very unprofessional of you to give something more than customer service to me, don’t you think?” 

The thought blew Gahyeon’s mind away, so abruptly that she didn't know what to do or how to react for a few good seconds. So… That was it? The goddamn reason haunting her ever since? It was because she didn’t want her to be just her bartender?

And before she could even manage to utter a word… 

“Do you still want me to drink this cocktail now, bartender Lee?”

The elder’s whisper gently touched her lips. Vibrating through her chest, seeping deeply into her soul, shaking her spine all over, and… No, she didn’t want it. Bartending could be her pride, but at this moment, she just wanted Handong to forget about the drink standing on the counter separating them both, and if the taller woman didn’t take any step forward…

She would close this stupid distance all by herself.

“I always know what I want, but what about you?” Encouraged by her intense eyes, she finally got the nerves to ask the million dollar question. “Do you know what you want, reporter Han? If you do, what exactly do you want then?”

Gahyeon held her gaze and her breath. They were close. So close. She didn’t know when she had moved that close to Handong’s seat on the other side of the small counter. She could feel her breath. She could sense her warmth. She could see her relaxing shoulders. 

But she could also notice the sadness in her starry eyes. So breathtakingly beautiful that it hurt.

“I know I don’t want any commitment…”

The younger almost chuckled in disbelief.

This red-haired woman was warning her as if she hadn’t known. Of course she knew. Her mind had been stuck with her after all this time, and her eyes had been following her long enough. More than what this woman liked, it was what she disliked that Gahyeon remembered the most. Labels and stereotypes, ties and relationships, she didn’t know the exact reason why, but… 

They stood in her top two.

Obviously, the bartender knew what she should do. Stop on the verge of this abyss. Step aside before she got hurt. Run away before it was too late, because this woman would never stay for anyone or anything, and just like everything else she should do…

“Not what I asked from you.” Gahyeon didn’t do it. “Not what I asked earlier eit…”

And being a doer, Handong shut her up. 

With a passionate kiss pulling her closer instead of an unnecessary answer.

------------------------------------------

That one hell of a night wasn’t their only night together. 

Handong still came to the bar on Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays. Sometimes she went back to Gahyeon’s studio, sometimes she didn’t. Sometimes she stayed through the night and sometimes she left before the sun could rise in the east. It was hard to predict, and her mood only played a small part of it. Her work schedule was the main reason why even the reporter herself couldn’t be sure when she could stay. She did seem reluctant though, on some occasions Gahyeon managed to not fall asleep when the red-haired put her clothes on her naked body and a goodbye kiss on the younger’s forehead.

(“We’re not dating, said the one grinning when texting and flirting right in front of my single’s ass salad.” Whined Leedo, facepalming himself and pretending like he hadn’t just winked at a beautiful lady sitting in the corner.

“Because we aren’t.” She despondently repeated for the 203th time.)

The bartender’s smile widened even though she kept reminding herself that Handong and she weren’t dating. It was a bit complicated, she admitted. Like sure, they kissed, not just on lips but also on some other places that she didn’t feel like mentioning to anyone else, they were acting like lovey-dovey, maybe, probably, but no. Whatever they did, they weren’t dating. Not officially. There were no strings attached, and honestly, she couldn’t say that she minded.

It was weird, really. 

They made no promise. They made nothing official, and Gahyeon had never doubted. Not even once.

Something in the air, something embracing them when she was with Handong just made her feel… certain. Maybe it was her hug, she guessed, so warm and comfy. Maybe it was her calm and soothing scent of rose, vanilla and cigarette. Or maybe it was her very presence, reliable and addictive. Or it was her whispers in Gahyeon’s ears after every time they excited and exhausted themselves together on her bed. Just Handong’s incoherent, yet cooing voice that couldn’t really reach her dreamy mind after the intense orgasms, softly tugging at her chest, guiding her into the dreamland, and…

Yeah… 

She realised that Handong liked whispering. She also realised that she liked listening to her whispers, so much that it scared her a bit. This was the only time she was grateful that the elder woman wasn’t into reporting news on TV or anything similar. It might be safer than hunting for news on practical fields, especially if the red-haired woman went on investigating some kind of social problems or political crimes, but… 

This voice of hers… For now, only Gahyeon was allowed to hear. Why the red-haired woman liked it though, she had never asked. She did have a vague idea that maybe, just maybe, Handong started to like whispering, tenderly and not-teasingly, after receiving the first cocktail she had made. Untouched and forgotten, sure, but… Yeah, her point still stood.

And she would like to think that she was wrong too. It would be embarrassing and ten times more devastating if she was wrong and wasn’t prepared for being wrong. The reporter might have had that habit way before meeting her, and it had nothing to do with their first night together. Rationally, she knew.

Emotionally… not so much. 

The young bartender still trembled whenever hearing the elder’s voice cooing on her ears and lips. She still wanted more and more. She kept smiling too, glancing at the white shirt Handong wore earlier or tracing her finger along the woman’s sleeping face. And more than often, she kept looking for the reporter’s image lingering everywhere in her small apartment, asking herself over and over again. The questions of a thousand what ifs.

What if it was true? 

What if they could be anything more than… this? 

Gahyeon mindlessly caressed Handong’s back, fingertips memorising her velvety skin, enjoying the woman’s warmth in her arms while pushing them out of her head. She might not like it, but she understood it too well.

Dreaming too high was the quickest way to make the woman leave. And making this woman leave was the last thing she wanted to do.

------------------------------------------

One day, Gahyeon gave Handong her house key.

“So you can come anytime you feel like.” And a nonchalant shrug, too. “Of course, you can say no. And of course, you don’t have to come everyday, just saying, if that’s not clear enough.”

“Aren’t you afraid?” The elder asked, half teasing, half serious. “I might sell your stuff to get some pocket money, you know?”

“If I lose something, I’ll blame it on you.”

The reporter enchanted her with her ridiculously melodious laugh, widening her smile by accepting the small cat keychain she had bought out of the blue. Yeah, she blamed it on the cat’s cuteness and sassiness. She also blamed it for reminding her of this annoying woman. It wasn’t because she could see her face wherever she went, didn’t matter if they had ever been there together. Totally and definitely not.

Anyways.

At first, Handong didn’t come that often. Twice or thrice a week, sometimes more, sometimes less. Then, come and go at the godliest hours she did, her staying time expanded. Slowly but steadily. Longer and longer, and eventually…

The next few months was when Handong stayed at Gahyeon’s studio every single day. And one day, when her phone vibrated, notifying her of the rent the reporter just paid, she suddenly realised that it had already been their first month moving in together. 

It was hard to not immerse herself in it, honestly. A life with that woman was… something. After all, she didn’t just fill the place with the personal belongings the bartender had to prepare for her, like a toothbrush, pyjamas and towels. She filled her heart, too. With her rich, hearty laughs, her sarcastic gossips, and the feeling of home the red-haired had managed to bring into her cold, messy apartment. It had been a while, the younger noticed, nose prickled when coming back to her house, welcomed by the scent of washing detergent on a fine day, the heavenly smell of newly cooked rice on a not so fine other, or just the sound of inhouse slippers sweeping around on a daily basis. 

She had to nudge her head into the woman’s back to hide her tears by the way.

And those months were when she realised that Handong was a personification of a thousand conflicts.

Okay, she was exaggerating, but it was really amazing though, how the woman could drag her outside on her day-off, drily and innocently informing that she had no fucking idea of where to go, and was still able to convince Gahyeon to not get back home to sleep her day away.

“Come on, let’s just get lost. It’ll be fun!”

Being an absolute idiot when she wasn’t standing behind a counter, the bartender didn’t understand what was so fun about going out without any direction or purposes, let alone being lost into the suffocating, smelly crowd. She understood even less how she still let Handong pull her wrist, taking her to wherever she felt like. And she couldn’t understand at all, how the hell she couldn’t be mad at her, considering that they had been walking until her feet were sore and her hips hurt. 

Yeah, she blamed it on her sunny smile and starry eyes. Or… Okay, getting lost might be a little bit more fun than she thought. Or maybe, she was just having fun whenever Handong was by her side, but anyway, the main point was…

This whimsical, adventurous woman and the one coming to her bar on the same day, ordering the same drink, sitting at the same seat and having OCD with arranging food in their fridge and crockeries in their kitchen… Were they really the same person?

Gahyeon remembered the utter surprise followed by a shudder when she saw her tall frame, crouching down like a martial art performer, arranging bowls, plates, chopsticks, spoons, even their juices and water bottles uniformly based on colours, sizes and using purposes, still baffled by how unplanned Handong could be and the fact that she could wholeheartedly enjoy that unplanness. 

Or how the red-haired woman, Chinese, only three years older than her, but sometimes could have some… very Korean ahjumma-like habits. Especially when she ordered a whole feast from delivereasy. Sitting on the ground, knees bent, one pointing up and one pointing to the side, playing with her phone, and the bartender couldn’t find all the chickness, sassiness and coolness she had seen in her when she walked past that wooden door of the bar she worked at.

(Gahyeon remembered trying not to laugh when she saw the woman like that for the first time. She failed, of course, earning a pillow in her face, which led to a fierce pillow fight afterwards. She won, earning her another pillow in the face, triggering another fight until Handong won.) 

Or how the reporter, quicker than her when it came to trending stuff on the internet (tik-toks, for example, the bartender suppressed the urge to roll her eyes), but really into the low-fi sounds of her old LP player more than anything else. Said it was nostalgic. Said it reminded her of her childhood time back in Wuhan, when news was reported via radio and common speakers. Distorted sounds they were, not clean and clear enough to hear all the beats and instruments, but, yeah, there was just something in them that Handong had fallen in love with. 

And that night, when the LP player bathed them in the low-fi tunes of some slow dance she couldn’t know the name, Gahyeon slowly learnt how to love those sounds and rhythm. 

She even started to understand why the elder loved them so much. She could grasp the faint feeling of nostalgia too, even though she hadn’t grown up with any of that to really feel nostalgic. Or, okay, maybe not so much. Maybe she could do better, if her eyes hadn’t been that busy, silently memorising that gentle smile blooming on Handong’s lips. Or the way Handong closed her eyes, soft hums escaping from her mouth as she followed the flow, travelling back to her peaceful childhood. And really, could someone blame her for that?

She just wanted to remember everything about this woman, that was all. 

Besides, the bartender had a second chance to learn how to cherish the tunes anyway, because one more thing Handong preferred doing was leaving a message for her in her old voice recorder. Same reason, but different feelings.

At first, the younger was amused. Who the hell used these antiques when they had phones and the internet these days? But later on… Yeah, karma really was a bitch. Either it was a reminder to her to eat properly, or it was a sorry after they had a conflict… The red-haired woman’s rich voice and the tape zizzing kept sweeping through her chest like a stubborn feather. 

She would never tell Handong that she kept all the tape in a box under her bed like a small chest of treasure though.

Anyways. 

Another conflict she found in Handong was that, despite her chick look, her creative, risky and independent working persona, the reporter was actually a cuddling addict. She might never talk about her hardships. She might never tell her what made her mad and what made her sad, but whenever the woman nudged her face into the crook of her neck, she knew. Miserable or happy, stressful or at peace, the elder actually told her a lot through her hugs and embraces. 

Maybe, it was because of her chaotic nature that Gahyeon couldn’t keep herself away. Calm and wild, free and neat, repetitive and unpredictable, everything she found in Handong just blew her mind away. Exciting her, attracting her, holding her by her side, but at the same time, it intimidated her so much. Making her wonder what they were. Scaring her with the question of when Handong might leave. Making her just wanted to hug the elder tighter. Closer. Keeping her for herself, so that she would never be able to go.

Of course, she always tried not to do so. Not too tightly at least. She still remembered what Handong had told her on their first night being together. She noticed it herself too, that the red-haired woman was a free cloud, belonging to the sky above. She wanted no anchor. She didn’t want any string attached. 

As much as Gahyeon knew, it still stung. And as much as it stung, she respected the elder’s wish nevertheless. She was a grey zone person too. Before meeting Handong, she had never felt the need to have a label. To have everything clear and in detail. To be someone else’s girlfriend, to say an ‘I love you.’ and receive it back, because she didn’t need either a confirmation or an empty promise to know what her partner truly felt.

This wasn’t the case. She wasn’t sure what Handong really felt, but she understood her choice anyway. Which was why she tried to not fall too deep. 

She resisted the urge to say she loved her.

She also prepared herself for the day Handong wanted to leave. 

And she just hoped the woman could tell her if she ever decided to. 

------------------------------------------

Handong didn’t tell her any shit.

The day came earlier than Gahyeon wanted, and that woman simply disappeared. No messages, no calls, no recordings, no notes. Nothing. Just one fine day, and she left. Leaving everything, from the belongings to Gahyeon and her heart, everything the bartender was willing to give but Handong wasn’t willing to take, behind. 

After a few days, maybe more than a week of being mad, of texting to a certain number but not getting any responses, of worrying and waiting without knowing when she could stop, she finally accepted that Handong had gone. Really gone. For reasons she could never know, let alone trying to fix it. Of course, it wasn’t like she hadn’t prepared any shit, but…

She had forgotten that she should keep on preparing.

A drop of tears rolled on her cheek, her blurred eyes tiredly scanning around her small apartment. That window was where the red-haired woman, wearing the baggy shirt Gahyeon had bought, leisurely blowing spirals of cigarette smoke into the night sky after a wild sex. That couch was where she sat like an ahjumma, munching on her deliveries, cheeks puffing like a chipmunk, which was illegally adorable. That counter was where she suddenly gave her a back hug while the younger was testing a new drink, chin resting on her shoulder and breath caressing her cheek. That bed where the woman slipped into her arms, whispering into her ears, cooing her after a tired, hard shift. Then the LP player, the recorder, the cat keychain on her dining table, here, there…

Everywhere, she saw her face. She felt her warmth. 

The warmth that already left.

And at the moment she hugged Handong’s shirt, immersing herself in her scent of rose and vanilla, ears listening to the old, fuzzy songs coming from that goddamn antique speaker before falling asleep, she suddenly realised that…

The woman had taught her how to love. The tunes, the quiet, faint buzzes, her scent, her voice, her presence, the feelings and the woman herself, but… She had never taught her how to deal with this. How to move on when she was gone. How to stop her own thoughts and the woman’s whispers haunting her dreams and wide awakes. How to regain her old balance.

And how to have a new normal after being left behind. 

Damn it…

Why had she left? What exactly were they? Did those days mean nothing to her?

On a lonely night, Gahyeon had wondered so, rolling on her cold queen bed, a frown creasing her forehead, exactly where the woman used to put a goodbye kiss on before going out for a sudden news hunt.

She didn’t know her bed was this large, but well, she quickly sneered at herself. What had she expected? She didn’t know she couldn’t prepare for her leaving. She didn’t know she had fallen that hard. And she didn’t even know the hole Handong had dug could be this unbearably big, as if the woman had brought along everything inside her chest when she left without a single warning.

In short, she didn’t know shits no matter how hard she had tried. 

And yet, she still couldn’t be that angry with her either. 

Fuck… Gahyeon mentally cursed, looking at the time on her phone, eyes squinting a bit at the sudden bright light emitted. She failed to see the clock though. Her eyes decided to betray her by fixing on the woman peacefully sleeping, red hair falling on her bare shoulder, all soft and charming instead. For a few good seconds. Maybe nearly a minute.

Irritated, she clicked her tongue, finally glancing at the time. Eight twenty-two in the morning. 

She needed to sleep before her shift started. She needed to change her phone lockscreen too. She needed to learn how to leave Handong out of her head, and she needed to do it soon. At least, she was right about one thing, remembering the first moment the reporter sat right in front of her at the bar counter, with those brown eyes sparkling, so warm, so intense, so deep…

What a pain in the ass.

That woman really was the trouble of her life.

------------------------------------------

Gahyeon was proud of her ability to adapt. It didn’t take her that long to adjust herself and get used to the new normal. Aka going to work, letting Leedo tease her, sometimes teasing back when she was in the mood, with or without glancing at the familiar seat when it was too boring. Aka going back to her studio alone, welcomed by the lack of human warmth and the mess she had turned her living room into. Aka eating her deliveries alone and not listening to the LPs and the recording tapes she had learnt by heart too often. Aka looking at her lockscreen photo of Handong without missing the time she used to see the real person with her own eyes, feeling her skin with her own hands and kissing her hair with her own lips too much.

…

Or… Okay, the bartender let out a sigh, sipping on her hot chocolate in Handong’s favourite cat mug, wearing Handong’s old t-shirt, and sitting on Handong’s favourite seat by the window. Maybe she lied a bit. It took her more than ‘that long’ to bear with the needle stinging her chest. To return to her old lifestyle of doing everything alone, or just to accept that she had miserably failed in forgetting that annoying woman. The last part… she couldn’t say she was at fault though. She had searched for ways to do so. She had learnt hard. She had tried harder, and she still didn’t know how even until now. 

If only it could be as easy as falling for her, she took another sip, shuddering when the hot liquid warmed her body up all of a sudden. But Gahyeon was doing great. No more pretending at work, no more crying at night. She wasn’t happy, but she wasn’t sad either. Just a weird feeling of emptiness and something that lingered, she wasn’t too sure, nor was she keen on figuring out. And okay, she could keep seeing that beautiful smile everywhere in her head no matter how hard she tried not to, but it was fine. There was no such thing as being unable to live just because someone had decided to move out of her life anyway. 

And at least, she had learnt to accept one thing. That a part of her might stay in those memories, but the rest of her would keep moving forward. And for now, that was more than en…

The soft knocks on her door startled her a bit. 

Frowning, the bartender looked at the time. Two in the morning. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and who the hell would come to see her at such a godly hour?

She didn’t know why she didn’t think of the only person who had a tendency to shamelessly bother her at the godliest hours possible. She didn’t know why she was stunned for much longer than a minute either, seeing Handong, of all people, appearing behind her peeping hole and her doorstep, standing right in front of her in bone and flesh, lips not curling and eyes not smiling, but her rose and cigarette scent, her warmth, her presence…

The red-haired woman was really back.

Silence muffled Gahyeon’s ears, blurring eyes, but couldn’t stop her from staring at the elder woman, checking in disbelief. She hadn’t changed much, Gahyeon noticed. Might be a bit thinner and paler, but it didn’t matter. It might sting her chest with that usual needle she thought she had already been used to, but it mattered even less. Neither of them said anything, and when the reporter managed to utter something that failed to reach the bartender’s mind… 

A sharp slap echoed in the air, cutting everything she was supposed to say off. 

The younger didn’t know how much her slap had hurt this woman. She just knew how hard her hand had swung, across Handong’s cheek and her own chest; her inner palm ached, throbbed, numbed. 

“What are you doing here? Why do you come back? To see how pathetic I am when you’re gone?”

She heard herself shouting those bitter questions with a cracked voice, feeling her hot, bitter tears rolling on her face. She aggressively wiped them away. This woman didn’t deserve it. Just who the fuck did she think she was? Casually coming here after leaving without a trace, stirring the new state of calm Gahyeon had to spend so much time to regain, making her overwhelmed with all the storm she had been trying to get rid of but couldn’t by her mere presence just like that? Making her cry for her as if she was everything that mattered? As if the younger was the only one who got hurt?

The audacity… 

And it was even more nerve-wracking when she failed nevertheless. To stop crying. To shake off the woman's hug, the exact warmth her entire body had been craving for since the day Handong decided to leave without saying a word. To keep herself from falling into her caress, hands running up and down on her back, just like she used to do to comfort her when they had been together. To not immerse herself in her whispers when she gently cooed right next to her ears. 

“Don’t cry, Gahyeon…” Her rich, quiet voice still made its way to her chest, tugging her heart without her permission as it always did. “I’m sorry… Don’t cry…”

Of course she kept crying. It took her an embarrassingly long time to calm down, even though it had always been one of the things she was good at. And even though she had managed to control her uncontrollable sobs, she still couldn’t kick Handong out of her studio as she should have done back when they'd met. Still allowing her to enter. Still letting her sit in front of her huddling frame, looking at her with those intense and caring eyes of hers and listening to whatever she might have to say. 

Which was… nothing? So far? 

Almost sniggering at herself, Gahyeon curled up in an armchair, not bothering to sneak some glances at the red-haired woman. This was ridiculous. Even when Handong seemed to have trouble forming words inside that wild mind she had, but whatever. The bartender had never been able to grasp her thoughts. Or her mind. Or her everything in general, and she was too tired to even try. 

“What the hell are we, Handong?”

She finally asked, breaking the almost suffocating silence in between, only to allow it to reform as she waited for an answer that, probably, would never be voiced. She had always restrained herself from asking it aloud. Labels were what this woman disliked the most.

And she hated that she still remembered. 

And after a while of considering, everything that woman could give her was…

“I don’t know…” 

Turning her head away, Gahyeon let out a sneer in disbelief. She didn’t even want to look her in the face anymore. Seriously… She didn’t really know what else to say to this. After all this time to think of something nice and decent, after everything they had, and that shit was everything she could utter? Really? Just one ‘I don’t know’ and that was it? 

What the actual f…

“It’s because I didn’t know that I left.” 

Her silent rants and curses stopped, more or less abruptly. The bartender couldn’t recall if there had ever been the time when her smirk was wiped out that fast. Just a snap, and it disappeared, replaced by a warm stream of something slowly flowing back into her chest. Making her tremble. Making her want to look at Handong’s face, to see if she really heard it right. 

Did it mean… She had given a thought about their relationship? Or did it mean that she even wanted something more than whatever they had had, enough for her to try to look for an answer? 

Gahyeon didn’t know. But at that time, when Handong trapped her in the starry maze that carried too much genuineness, care and guilt, she knew. 

Whatever they had, it meant something. To them both. It wasn’t just her who felt that it mattered. 

“Did you miss me?” 

Handong carefully closed the gap between them, again, enchanting her with the touch of her fingertips and the rich, deep sound of her whisper. This time, the bartender didn’t resist, letting the elder caress the skin on her cheek without saying anything. 

She didn’t shake her off, but she didn’t answer her question either. Just looking at the other woman, grabbing her smile and her eyes carrying only Gahyeon’s image, holding them tight into her heart when the elder nodded.

“I miss you too.”

It was the first time Handong said something this imitating. In present tense, not past tense. And the younger’s chest couldn’t help but shiver. Not with anger or resentment, but not with joy and happiness either. Honestly, she wasn’t sure what was rioting in there, but if she had to pick one… 

It would be tiredness. 

She was tired of being scared. She was tired of an unnamed relationship. She was tired of waiting. She was tired of guessing. She was tired of the fact that she still didn’t know how to really move on from this red-haired woman. And she was tired of herself, despite everything that happened, still craving for this woman’s warmth, enough to not pull away from the arms wrapping around her waist, trapping her in a comforting embrace that she was longing for. 

Gahyeon’s nose prickled, throat slightly tightened as she nudged her head into the red-haired’s neck. This was so familiar. So was the tender kiss falling on her forehead. So was the gentle stroke on her short hair. And the quiet hums vibrating to her chest. And the whispers in her ears too. It was as if Handong had never left. She was here. She was really here.

Suddenly, the familiarity of having her by her side made her wanna cry so bad. And the loss and uncertainty when she left had never felt so real. So overwhelming. So intimidating that she blurted without thinking twice.

“Next time, can you tell me first before leaving me again?”

She didn’t dare look at her. She wasn’t sure what she had expected either, but… Definitely not a sigh, for sure. 

“I can’t.” 

Gahyeon didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. But before she could do either…

“Can’t do that if I don’t wanna leave you again, can I?”

The bartender immediately raised her head to look at the elder, glassy eyes blinking in utter disbelief. Did she hear it right? Did Handong really say that she didn’t want to leave? That she wanted to stay by her side, with no lies that she could see in her starry irises? 

It felt so surreal, but Handong’s hands, holding her tightly, had told her that it was the truth. It seemed like a dream, but Handong’s lips on hers had never felt so real. Cherishing her with respect. Showering her with, after apologies, her heart and whispers, incoherent and inaudible in Gahyeon’s dreamy mind, with the exception of the loudest and clearest. 

The whisper brushing on her lips. The whisper warming her heart all over.

That whisper that said…

“I love you, Lee Gahyeon. I really, really do…”