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Yoo Sangah sat in the principal's office, listening to her parents argue for her sake as the blood on her knuckles began to crust.
“Our Yoo Sangah would never start a fight.”
She had. She’d gone up to the bully beating on the boy and punched him right on the nose. The crunch of his bones was the most satisfying thing she’s ever heard in her whole life.
“Do you not see the bruises on our child?!”
The boy punched her back, a bit obviously, and her jaw still ached from it. Much to her smugness, he had sat on his knees in pain and shock for a solid ten seconds before he had made himself react in some way other than cowering.
The principal, obviously wanting her parents gone, merely nodded along as they spoke.
“Our Sangah is perfect. She would never be anything less than that.”
Yoo Sangah was not perfect. She wanted to scream and shout that at her parents, instead she picked at the blood on her hands.
---
The door opened silently when Yoo Sangah finally got home after her long trip from university to come home for spring break, and as she padded down the hall, the only noise was her mother and sister talking in the other room.
“I think Sangah will like him. Maybe he’ll be the one to finally convince her to settle down and stop studying that major of hers.”
“What if he doesn’t like her mother?”
“Nonsense!” her mother exclaimed. “Yoo Sangah will be the perfect wife! She’ll see that our arrangement is good for her.”
Bile creeped up Yoo Sangah’s throat. She did not want to be someone’s wife— especially since she would never be a perfect wife— didn’t want to be.
She simply rolled her neck and walked into the living room, smiling at her mother.
---
They were having a meeting about someone spiking the coffee pot. Kim Dokja had seen her and soon she would be caught… yet, he didn’t say anything when the time came. In fact, he hadn’t even looked at her.
On the way out of the meeting, Han Myungoh had wrapped his arm around her shoulders, smiling down at her.
“Whoever spiked the coffee is an absolute menace, Sangha-ssi.”
“I agree,” she replied, subtly trying to shrug him off of her.
He didn’t take the hint. “Who do you think did it? It can’t be you of course, you’re too perfect of a woman to do something like that.”
“It could be anyone,” she replied robotically.
Kim Dokja met her gaze, and she bit her tongue. She wasn’t perfect and now someone other than her knew it too. It lifted a weight off her shoulders that she hadn’t known had been there.
---
“You’re keeping me?”
“Of course Sangah-ssi,” Han Myungoh said, her gaze flitting down slightly.
She knew she wasn’t getting hired for her skills.
“Is Dokja-ssi staying as well?”
The predatory gaze in his eyes died at the mention of her coworker, and he haughtily said, “No, unfortunately he just wasn’t a good candidate, unlike you. You are the perfect candidate for the job Sangah–ssi.”
Perfect her ass. She wondered if they knew that she’d spiked the coffee if she would still be perfect to them. Somehow she knew they would paint the picture differently to make her a saint of some sort.
She smiled tightly as Han Myungoh continued talking, not quite listening.
---
She was crying. Han Sooyoung, the unshakable, was crying and Yoo Sangah didn’t know what to do. For a few seconds, Sangah couldn’t do anything but stare, so thoroughly shocked that she just stood in the doorway with wide eyes.
Sooyoung still hadn’t noticed her, wiping at her eyes furiously and grumbling, “You foolish squid.”
That pulled Sangah out of her stupor— she was mourning Dokja.
“Sooyoung–ssi?”
Sooyoung immediately got to her feet and whipped around, whipping her face. “What are you doing here?”
Right, she had gone into her room.
“I knocked on your door and it opened… I heard you so I came in.”
In the nearly three years Kim Dokja had been gone, Sangah didn’t think Sooyoung had shown weakness even once. While everyone else in their party began to crumble, Sooyoung built them back up in a way no one else could have done. Now, standing in this dim room, Sangah realized it had all been a facade so the group wouldn’t completely fall apart.
“Well, get out,” Sooyoung hissed, pointing towards the door.
“Are you okay?” Sangah asked instead.
“I’m fine! Leave me alone.”
Sangah knew she should listen, especially when Sooyoung was so very obviously upset, but she couldn’t. Even if they’ve had their disagreements in the past, they were still companions.
“If it’s about Dokja-ssi, it’s ok. Everyone has been upset about it one time or another, you don’t need to—”
“Don’t speak his name to me,” Sooyoung snarled, stepping towards her. “Don’t try to comfort me about that fucking idiot! I don’t need you!”
Her lips twisted into a frown, and Sanga furrowed her brows slightly. “You don’t need to go through this alone either though,” she said as gently as she could.”
“Oh fuck you.”
Sangah blinked, taking a step back at her harsh words. Han Sooyoung followed her, rage practically flowing off of her.
“No, I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you acting like everything is ok. I’m sick of you trying to fix problems that aren’t yours to fix! You don’t know how to mind your damn business and I’m sick of it!”
Her chest tightened at Sooyoung;s words, and despite trying to tell herself this was how Sooyoung grieved— by lashing out, it still hurt.
“Look at me,” Sooyoung mocked, putting a haughty hand to her chest, “I’m Yoo Sangah and I care about everything! I’m always kind because what other emotions would I show other than my upbeat attitude!? Well, there was that one time I sat there in despair as Kim Dokja sacrificed himself again, but all of us were useless, including that mean Han Sooyiung but we will persevere like always!”
She was red and clearly out of breath, but when Sangah tried to calm her down, she merely pushed her hand against her mouth as she kept going.
“Don’t you see Sangah! Your perfection can’t fix this,” she yelled, free hand splayed across her chest. “I’m not perfect, not like you. For once you being perfect is useless! You can’t help me! Kim Dokja is still gone and you did nothing! I did nothing!”
Something sparked deep within Sangah, and she slapped Han Sooyoung’s hand away from her, her own face contorting into something dangerous.
“I am not perfect.”
“What?” she said incredulously.
“I am not perfect.”
“What does that have to do with anything!?”
Nothing, yet to Sangah it was everything. At her serious gaze, Han Sooyoung nodded dumbly, tears still rolling down her cheeks.
Both of them, now calm, stared at each other for a few moments before Sooyougn mumbled, “ Sorry for being an asshole… I’m not angry at you, I’m angry at that bastard. I won’t call you perfect again if it bothers you so much.”
Sangha knew Sooyoung apologizing was her way of making peace between them.
“It’s fine,” she said, looking away. She hesitated for a second before admitting, “My mother used to say I was perfect all the time— everyone used to say it— it boiled my blood. I’m not perfect, nobody is.”
Sooyoung nodded, tears beginning to dry, but Sangah could still see the grief in her eyes. Surprising herself, Sangah opened her arms in invitation of a hug if she needed it, and surprising her even more, Sooyoung practically leapt into it, her arms holding Sooyoung like a lifeline.
Han Sooyoung, the woman she’s gotten along with the least in Kim Dokja’s company, the strongest minded woman she’s ever met, was crumbling in her arms, and Sangah did everything in her power to soothe her.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered into her hair. “No one could have done anything, including you, especially since you were saving Seoul.”
Again, Sooyoung nodded, and Sangah knew she didn’t believe her, but that wouldn’t stop her from telling her.
As they stood in that room, in each other's embrace, Yoo Sangah knew she wasn’t perfect— no one was— but she really wished she could be in that moment.