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Jihyo wasn’t a coward.
At least, she liked to think so. She liked to think she had the heart of a lion, braver than a knight; someone who could take on the world without flinching. If anything, the world should be cowering in fear from Park Jihyo. But every hero has a weakness. Every Clark Kent has their Kryptonite; Park Jihyo’s just happened to be Yoo Jeongyeon.
It came on gradually, like an hourglass filling to the top—it never happened overnight. It couldn’t have. Jihyo’s heart couldn’t let all of Jeongyeon in all at once. When they met, Jihyo wasn’t aware she liked girls. Hell, she was only thirteen then. Her main priorities were the newest K-pop releases and figuring out when the Hello Kitty blind-boxes restocked at the DAISO down the road.
But time flew by, and suddenly, Jihyo was in her final year of high school. Scraped knees and ice cream cones turned into eyebags and hidden cigarettes. Their sleepovers staying up talking about boys turned into study sessions. But all the while, Jeongyeon stayed next to Jihyo. With trainer bras turning into letter cups, Jeongyeon never faltered at Jihyo’s side. Even when Jihyo let it slip that she may like girls late at night, face blotchy and stained with snot—Jeongyeon stayed. Jihyo’s rock, her constant—it was only inevitable that Jihyo would fall for her, eventually.
“You don’t drink soda, unnie,” Dahyun furrowed her eyebrows together. “Who’s that for?”
Jihyo flattened her skirt as she stood up, one bottle of Coca-Cola shoved underneath her arm with a bottle of water perched in her hand. She exhaled shortly, smiling.
“You’ll see,” Jihyo answered as she stuck out her tongue. “Come with me.”
Jihyo gestured over her shoulder as she ran through the busy hallways, bumping into students as she went. Dahyun was quick at her tail, whining and complaining all the while. Like a cat dragged by a leash, Dahyun only obliged to avoid further repercussions—and because she was nosy, ultimately.
“Unnie~” Dahyun groaned. A few steps below Jihyo, Dahyun was hunched over with her hands on her knees. She let out a guttural noise similar to that of a dinosaur yelling. Jihyo furrowed her eyebrows in concern. “Can we—huff—take a break?”
“How do you even make it between classes, Dubu-yah?” Jihyo chuckled. She looked over her shoulder, eyebrow cocked.
“I don’t do this shit,” Dahyun grumbled. Jihyo rolled her eyes and picked up her pace. Dahyun yelped from what seemed like miles behind, and Jihyo heard footsteps pounding on the linoleum. “Unnie, wait up!”
“Her class is this way, Dubu-yah!” Jihyo called, and a noise mimicking that of a zombie came out of Dahyun. Jihyo shook her head as she jogged ahead, chuckling to herself, and arrived at the classroom. 3-B: All the way on the other side of the school building, separated by a flight of stairs and a bridge, was Jeongyeon’s classroom.
“Are we here? Did we make it?” Dahyun panted, her tongue practically lolling out of her mouth. Jihyo snorted.
“Do you want my water? Or some of it?” Jihyo said, giggling uncontrollably—as if her laughter was the backtrack to her voice. Dahyun nodded enthusiastically and snatched the plastic water bottle from Jihyo’s hand. Downing the water like she was in the desert, Dahyun handed back the bottle—half-empty. Or half-full, depending on how you look at things.
Today, Jihyo was feeling half-empty despite her giggly demeanor. Her nails were picked to a bleed, and she skipped breakfast due to the profuse nausea rumbling in her stomach.
Why, you may ask, curiously enough?
And to that, Jihyo would answer: Valentine’s Day was a week away.
Jihyo turned the cold can of soda over in her palm, the condensation leaving trails of water on her palm, mimicking that of sweat. She couldn’t tell where her own sweat started and condensation began, grossly enough. Jihyo wiped her hands on her skirt again.
Jeongyeon wasn’t easy to buy gifts for—it had always been that way. She had everything she needed. Clothes weren’t her ‘thing.’ Neither were most of the things Jihyo thought of. Everything that came to mind Jeongyeon: A) already had, B) didn’t need, or C) she simply wouldn’t like it, if Jihyo thought about it some more.
So, Jihyo stood in front of Jeongyeon’s classroom door with her favorite soda in hand. It was six days before Valentine’s and this was practically nothing. In the grander scheme of things, the soda was like an ant on Mount Everest. She wasn’t even sure if Jeongyeon would realize—if she’d notice at all. If Jeongyeon happened to crush her tiny bug body, Jihyo would be satisfied—because she’d still be receiving attention, after all.
“Jeongyeon unnie,” Jihyo called in a sing-song voice as she slammed open the classroom door. A multitude of students turned, whipping around at the noise. Jeongyeon raised her eyebrows, her eyes darting to the corner of the room where Jihyo stood. Her lips upturned into a smile at the sight and she waved. Jihyo’s heart thumped in her chest, slamming against her ribcage. She bit at her lip, trying to contain her excitement. “I brought you something!”
Jihyo skipped to her desk and landed on two feet in front of her seat.
“Oh?” Jeongyeon closed her book and tilted her head, eyes wide with confusion, almost wonder-like. Jihyo rocked back and forth from heel to toe as she nodded. She felt like she was back in elementary school, hiding flowers behind her back not-so-suspiciously. Jeongyeon peered around Jihyo, but she quickly transferred the drink to her front, like acrobatics. Quick on her feet, quick with her hands. “What did you bring me?”
“I just figured you could use this,” Jihyo said casually, her tongue poking from the corner of her mouth as she grinned, “delicious, refreshing can of soda—on me. You’re welcome.”
Jeongyeon giggled and took the can into her hand. She sighed, biting down on her lip. “I—Thanks, Ji. I appreciate it. You rock.”
Jihyo’s heart did somersaults. Jihyo swallowed thickly, but as if she had swallowed salt water, she struggled to choke down her spit. Jihyo started to cough awkwardly, bracing herself on Jeongyeon’s desk. The wood was cold underneath her hot palms. Jeongyeon’s face twisted into a concerned frown, and Jihyo looked down as she coughed again.
“Is everything okay? You don’t seem too well, Jihyo.” Jeongyeon’s chair scraped against the floor. She ducked slightly, brushing her hair behind her ear as she tilted her head, attempting to gain access to see Jihyo’s face. Her free hand hovered behind the small of Jihyo’s back—but Jihyo could still feel the weight of her palm. She tried to keep her composure, but her throat was rumbly, like an earthquake, ready to split.
“Great,” Jihyo replied, her voice gravelly. She cleared her throat repeatedly. Jeongyeon blinked each time, on the beat. “Wonderful, really.”
Jeongyeon flattened her lips into an unconvinced line. “Are you sure about that?”
Jihyo nodded. She closed her eyes and imagined the floor swallowing her whole. Maybe if she fell through the floor, plummeting through the three stories, Jihyo would feel better.
“I left my—” Jihyo cleared her throat again, “I left my water with Dahyun outside. And we should get back. She has class on the first floor. So, I’ll see you later.”
Shame felt hot on the back of her neck as Jihyo forced a smile. She avoided rubbing her neck to show her wounds, like a dog licking its injured paw. But Jeongyeon couldn’t reply or even blink before Jihyo turned on her heel out the door.
Dahyun ran to catch up. “How’d it go?” she asked as her Mary-Janes clacked on the floor.
Jihyo stopped between flights of stairs. She opened her mouth, but no words came, so she closed it. Turning her head to the side, she looked out the window. It was dreary—cloudy, with barely any sunlight in the sky. The clouds raged above, swirling and brewing what Jihyo presumed to be a nasty snowstorm. Just great. Jihyo sighed. It wasn’t what Jihyo needed, but it sure represented her current state.
Really, Jihyo was just embarrassed. It wasn’t a good start. It was as if she got off on the wrong footing. Her genius plan had started with the first step being an epic failure, the twelve-step plan stopping at step one.
Though without storms, there wouldn’t be flowers.
And though it was winter, spring would be coming soon.
Jihyo balled her fists at her sides and turned to face Dahyun.
“How hard is it to make chocolates?”
— 💝 —
Grocery stores weren’t Jihyo’s favorite place to be. She wasn’t sure anyone truly enjoyed being in a grocery store, even the store workers. The places were lit like hospitals, fluorescent, usually with the cheapest LEDs possible, which buzzed and crackled above their heads. But if you said anything to the store clerk, she’d smack you upside the head and call you ungrateful, as she had known you since you were born.
Maybe it was a problem specific to only Jihyo.
Anyway, Jihyo never liked stepping foot inside Auntie’s store, as anxiety crept along her spine when she entered—a sickening feeling. But there was always the exception. As Sana pushed Chaeyoung in the grocery cart, her entire body shoved into the small transporter meant for fruits and vegetables, Jihyo wondered if she found the outliers or if her friends were simply just freaks.
“Wee!” Chaeyoung giggled as she flew through the aisles. “This is like a kiddy rollercoaster.” The cart creaked and groaned while Chaeyoung turned backward to smile at Sana, “Thanks, unnie!”
Jihyo pinched her nose bridge. “Can we like—I dunno—focus?”
Dahyun came up behind Jihyo and patted her on the shoulder. “Now, where’s the fun in that?”
Jihyo scowled. The so-called ‘fun’ to Jihyo wasn’t in the adventure—well, more specifically, it wasn’t in dicking around the sweet auntie’s convenience store. To Jihyo, the fun was at the climax: entering the dungeon and slaying the dragon. More specifically, telling her childhood best friend she was in love with her.
Semantics.
Really, Jihyo was just impatient. She wanted to spend her time efficiently. If she could’ve spent her time training to slay a dragon terrorizing her town, why wouldn’t she have? The sooner the dragon died, the better. The earlier Jihyo got her feelings off her chest, the better.
Jihyo opened her mouth to argue, but Chaeyoung’s laughter screeched throughout the small building, piercing the ears of Jihyo and all her fellow patrons, alongside the noise of a loud crash.
Jihyo shouldn’t have taken her eyes off of the two overgrown toddlers.
“Should we check on that?” Jihyo asked, sighing, though the question was more rhetorical, as she turned around the aisle toward the noise, dragging her feet.
The sickening feeling was heavy on Jihyo’s body when she turned the corner. The small cart lay on its side, wheels spinning. Boxes of cake mix lay astray on the floor around Chaeyoung. Sana laughed into her hand. One of the cardboard boxes had broken open and showered the aisleway and Chaeyoung with chocolate powder. Jihyo’s jaw dropped in horror, all while Sana’s phone clicked.
“She looks cute,” Sana giggled, “like a sad, muddy snowman. Don’t you think?”
Jihyo grimaced. In the near distance, footsteps rushed towards them, pounding against the floor. A stampede. Jihyo felt chills across her body, her shoulders pulling upward toward her ears. She wanted to vomit. And yes, she knew it wasn’t that serious, but she needed this to be perfect. She needed her chocolates to be divine, a delicacy crafted by the Gods. If Auntie kicked them out of her store for vandalizing the place, that would dampen Jihyo’s godly chocolatier-ing plans.
“What in the world—oh, Heavens!” As Auntie came around the corner, broom in hand, Jihyo felt her soul shrivel up and die. Chaeyoung may as well have buried her casket. She guffawed at the sight, her palm going straight to her forehead. Sana threw her phone into her purse, quickly putting her hands behind her back as she bowed alongside Dahyun.
“Hi, Auntie,” Jihyo sighed. She didn’t want to open her eyes. Squeezing them shut, Jihyo prayed that the mess would disappear when she opened her eyes. Maybe Chaeyoung wouldn’t be there, either.
“Jihyo,” her auntie’s voice wasn’t sharp but soft, disappointed. A parent’s tone. “What happened here?”
Jihyo grimaced. She opened her eyes, turning upward. They nearly swelled with tears, but Jihyo was strong. She was brave. She could face this.
“It was Chaeyoung’s fault,” Jihyo said, crocodile tears salty on her cheeks. Chaeyoung scoffed behind her while Dahyun snorted. Sana smacked Dahyun on the arm, resounding throughout the store. Jihyo continued to pray. Maybe God would take Sana, too, if she was lucky. “I tried to stop them; I really did—”
The auntie held up her hand as she sighed. For a moment, all Jihyo could hear was the buzzing of a fly in the flickering lights above her head. She gulped.
“Take this,” Auntie muttered. “It better be clean in the next half-hour, or you all will be here until you’re past my age.”
She pointed a threatening finger at the girls before turning around, grumbling about kids these days, presumably. Jihyo waited until absolute silence, ensured safety, before whacking Chaeyoung over the head with the broom.
Chaeyoung let out a noise similar to that of a frog being squeezed.
“What was that for?” she whined, rubbing the top of her head. Jihyo clicked her tongue.
“For getting us in this mess. Literally,” Jihyo said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You clean this up with Dahyunie. Sana and I will go and look for the shit we need. Capiche?”
Dahyun took the broom handle out of Jihyo’s hands gently, nodding. Jihyo presumed it was only to prevent her from smacking Chaeyoung again, but she didn’t mind as long as they cleaned up the disaster on the aisle floors.
Sana skipped to catch up with Jihyo as she stomped ahead. “So~ what do we need?”
Jihyo pulled out her phone and opened her notes app. “One sec and I’ll tell you," she said in response, eyes scanning over the screen. “Cacao butter, cacao powder, uh, maple syrup, and it says vanilla can be optional, I guess.”
Sana scrunched her nose. “What’s the difference between cacao butter and cacao powder?”
Jihyo narrowed her eyes, raising her hands as she huffed. “Do you think I know? Don’t ask me! Just help me find it,” Jihyo cried, before adding a small, “Please?”
Sana pursed her lips as she smiled and scoffed. “I can never say no to you. Fine.”
As they wandered the aisles, the Jihyo’s mind wandered, too. Away from the anxious thoughts, Jihyo allowed herself to indulge. She daydreamed about Jeongyeon’s reaction to her chocolates. Would she laugh? Would she like them? Jihyo hoped. Jihyo hoped for the best, the absolute best. It was what Jeongyeon deserved, after all.
“I found the cacao… shit!” Sana called. Jihyo chuckled, shaking her head as she jogged ahead, in the direction of Sana’s voice.
“Is it actual shit?” Jihyo teased. Sana scoffed.
“Would you just get over here and get your shit?” Sana crossed her arms and tapped her feet, though Jihyo could tell her annoyance was faker than a fur coat.
“Well, if I must,” Jihyo said, exasperated. Sana rolled her eyes, but her grin was evident.
They examined the prices of the different cacao powders—though there weren’t many options to choose from. There was only one option of cacao butter. Three bands of maple syrup were on the shelf. Jihyo didn’t know if this was worse or better than having variety, a lot of options to pick from. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to buy everything in this situation. Could she even afford that?
“It’s… expensive,” Sana frowned. “Why is it so expensive?”
“I’ll pay you back,” Jihyo whispered. Numbers whirred around in her head. If anything caused her more anxiety than grocery store aunties’, it was math. “You can cover me, right? Or Mina can. And you can get Mina to Venmo you.”
Sana snorted. “You’re so, so lucky I love you. Like, oh, my God.”
A wave of relief washed over Jihyo, the tides changing slowly, but surely. The choppy waves of anxiety hadn’t disappeared just yet. But as Sana tossed the ingredients into their basket with a swoop of her arm, the laughter brought sunshine, scaring away the remainder of the unsteady seas.
“We just need… vanilla, I guess,” Sana shrugged. “D’you think that’s back with the other baking stuff?”
Why the aisles were split in two, Jihyo had no idea. But she nodded, agreeing with Sana’s hypothesis. They traveled back to where they started, where the mess originated, and where Dahyun and Chaeyoung were left alone. The two weren’t to be trusted alone. Both in terms of hijinks and other atrocities.
Jihyo had her suspicions of Dahyun’s romantic feelings. As a certified Lover-Girl herself, she noticed. She noticed the ways Dahyun’s eyes lingered just a little too long, a little too wistful. Jihyo saw how Dahyun practically fell over when Chaeyoung cracked a joke. Dahyun was sociable, someone who anyone could enjoy being around. But with Chaeyoung, Dahyun’s true personality shined—and Jihyo saw that.
She wondered if anyone saw the way she was with Jeongyeon.
She wondered if she was as predictable as she thought. If people noticed the same way she did, the way her heart fell out onto her sleeve, all bloody and vulnerable.
Jihyo hoped to God not.
When they turned the corner, Dahyun was finishing cleaning Chaeyoung’s mess while Chaeyoung rambled on, her back pressed against the aisles. Jihyo sighed. Predictable as always.
“How’s it coming here?” Jihyo called with a wave of her hand. Dahyun and Chaeyoung looked up at the same time, the conversation coming to a pause. Dahyun smiled, bright and cheery, while Chaeyoung offered a small upturn of her cheeks.
“Good! Almost done. Do you think she has a dustpan we can borrow?” Dahyun tilted her head. Jihyo shrugged in response.
“Why don’t you go ask?” she said. “And take our stuff to the front while you’re at it, would you? We gotta—”
“We need Mina because she’s rich,” Sana interrupted simply, and Jihyo whacked her in the chest. Sana yelped and clutched her boob, holding her breast in her palm like she was pledging to the flag.
“Would you be quiet?” Jihyo hissed through clenched teeth. “That sounds like we’re using her for her status. That is not what we are doing.”
“It’s not?” Sana raised an eyebrow.
Jihyo glared.
Sana mumbled an apology while Jihyo sighed.
“Are we almost ready to go? When are we even gonna make these bad boys?” Chaeyoung asked as she wandered back and forth between the cake mixes and frostings.
“I’m gonna plan a girls' night on Friday. Have someone take out Jeongyeon so she doesn’t suspect anything,” Jihyo explained. Chaeyoung nodded, her hands jammed into her coat pockets.
“Who’s gonna be the lucky lady?” Sana teased. Jihyo rolled her eyes and swallowed down the bitter bile in her throat. Jealousy personified.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Jihyo answered after a moment of silence. Sana didn’t say anything, only nodding in return. She knew better. She could read the room, unlike Chaeyoung, who was still learning her place in the world.
“I could take her out,” Chaeyoung offered.
Jihyo didn’t hold it against her, really. She appreciated the gesture, in actuality. She didn’t know if Dahyun would be as appreciative, but Chaeyoung was a safe bet. Someone who wouldn’t flirt with Jeongyeon, which was what Jihyo needed. The only lingering concern: would Chaeyoung spoil the surprise? Jihyo pursed her lips. No, if her track record proved trustworthy, then Chaeyoung also proved so. She hoped and prayed to the Gods above that Chaeyoung could pull through.
“You sure?” Jihyo said with a sigh, cocking her eyebrow. “You can’t, like, say anything about this. You know that, right?”
Chaeyoung snickered, scoffing slightly. “Well, duh,” she opened her palms to the ceiling. “Isn’t that obvious?”
Jihyo looked to Sana, who gave her a look that said, ‘ She’s right, you’re babying her, ’ and Jihyo sighed again.
“Fine,” Jihyo clicked her tongue. “You can’t fuck this up, though. Promise?”
Jihyo raised her pinky finger, outstretching her arm. Chaeyoung blinked and looked down at Jihyo’s hand, outreached. She blinked again, her eyelashes fluttering, before she outstretched her own hand, intertwining their pinkies in a promise.
“Promise,” Chaeyoung said, smiling softly.
And suddenly, Jihyo felt hopeful. Even with the mess, debt, and uncertainty—Jihyo felt hopeful.
— 💝 —
Jihyo thought maybe daisies would be a good gift. Like an appetizer.
The soda was—quite literally—the introductory drink. Daisies, the entree. Chocolates, the main dish. What people came to dinner for. So, if Jeongyeon didn’t like the wine, that was fine. If she didn’t like the calamari, Jihyo would feel a bit unsteady, but she wouldn’t be discouraged just yet. Not until the main dish. Not until Jeongyeon sunk her teeth into her cooking.
So, there Jihyo stood—on the pavement, bouquet in hands behind her back. Metaphorical apron dusted off, ready for another mess. Her fingers twiddled the stems of the daisies, bouncing them between the pads of her fingers, like how Jihyo bounced from the heels of her feet to her toes. Her body shivered in the cold, shoulders lifting to her ears. Jihyo’s breath formed clouds in front of her, and as she looked up, she saw snow slowly trickling down.
“Ji!”
Jihyo’s eyes darted forward, looking for the source of the voice. Jeongyeon’s hand bounded into the air, waving frantically amongst the body of students. A wide grin made its way to Jihyo’s face as she waved back. The tip of her nose felt frozen in the winter air, but Jihyo couldn’t bring herself to care, too focused on Jeongyeon dashing toward her.
“How are you? How was class?” Jeongyeon asked, landing on two feet in front of Jihyo. Jihyo giggled. Her hands clamped down on the stems of the flowers.
“Good, good. I got you something,” Jihyo licked at her lips. Nervous habit.
Jeongyeon raised her eyebrows. “Twice in one week? What, is it my birthday?”
Jihyo rolled her eyes, huffing. “C’mon,” she groaned, and Jeongyeon giggled. “Aren’t you gonna ask what it is?”
Jeongyeon bit back a grin unsuccessfully. “Hm, I dunno.”
Jihyo huffed again, even louder this time. “Just take these, would you?” she said, exasperated, as she thrusted the daisies forward, neck turned to the side. Her face burned in the cold air.
A moment of silence passed. The wind blew Jihyo’s hair across her face, a blur of brown strands, messy, disorganized. Her lower lip trembled, eyes watering. Jihyo swore it was from the wind biting her face. Her breath hitched in her chest as Jeongyeon’s fingers covered hers, steadying them. She grabbed her hand and the bouquet of flowers, taking the daisies from Jihyo.
“Aw, how pretty,” Jeongyeon said. Jihyo’s neck craned forward, gears creeping, cranking around, rusted, janky. Her eyes jerked up to Jeongyeon to find her smiling softly, admiring Jihyo’s daisies. “You’re such a great friend, Ji.”
Jihyo’s stomach plummeted. The gears crumbled, no longer turning, no longer moving at all. She faltered.
“Y-Yeah, of course. Any time, unnie,” Jihyo forced her words like bile and quickly turned on her heel, speeding down the sidewalk.
Somehow, it only filled her with more determination.
— 💝 —
Obnoxious pop music blared through Nayeon’s phone speaker. It rattled in Jihyo’s ears as the words of the recipe seemed to blur on the page. She groaned. Nobody seemed to hear. Or pay attention.
The mindless chattering continued, and Jihyo’s mind seemed to rattle on. Her brain felt like a battery running on fumes. She bit down on her lip. Maybe if she hit her head on the counter, then all her friends would pay attention. Jihyo tasted blood suddenly. She pushed her upper body off the counter and touched her hand to her lip, only to see red tinting her fingers.
“You okay?” Nayeon asked. Jihyo hadn’t noticed—the music had stopped. She blinked. Everyone was staring. Jihyo blinked again and cleared her throat awkwardly.
“Can we talk, unnie?” Jihyo’s mouth was tight, firm. Her skin felt like it was glued to her body, somehow, her muscles contracting. Nayeon ushered the rest of the girls to the living room, and Jihyo stared at the paper, nauseated. Her stomach churned. Throwing up all over the chocolate recipe wouldn’t be ideal, but Jihyo was feeling pretty nervous, queasy, and all-around unsettled.
“What’s your problem?” Nayeon’s question was posed bluntly, but her tone dripped with concern as she closed the door behind her. Jihyo felt herself crumble; cookies broken at the bottom of the jar. Her nails scraped against the counter. She winced.
“I,” Jihyo took a deep breath in, her lungs inflating like a hot air balloon. “I’m not sure.”
As she exhaled, her voice shook, lip quivering. She didn’t want to cry over this. She shouldn’t be crying over this, for fuck’s sake. Pathetic, truly. Jihyo felt absolutely deplorable. What was there to cry over? The unknown? The possibility of her chocolates turning out like utter garbage and Jeongyeon ending their friendship on the spot? Maybe. Maybe that was it.
“Chaeyoung’s got this covered. Dubu’s been asking for updates,” Nayeon said as she rubbed Jihyo’s upper back. The gesture was soothing. Jihyo felt her heart slow as she took more deep breaths, albeit unsteady, but Nayeon’s hand stayed. “What would help you right now?”
Jihyo sighed. The blood from her lip spilled onto her tongue once more. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip, pulling the flesh absently. If Nayeon took her out back like an old, sick dog, Jihyo thought that would help the most.
Jihyo also realized that was impossible. She knew there wasn’t a gun in the house.
“Can we just—take it easy today?” Jihyo pinched her nose bridge, exhaling. “I need to make these, like, great. You know? These need to be perfect. Absolutely perfect. If anyone fucks this up, me or them, it’s game over.”
Nayeon was silent for a moment. Jihyo let her think, sit in the silence, marinate in it. Nayeon pursed her lips from side to side, the gears whirring in her head.
“Have you ever,” Nayeon started carefully, like stepping on eggshells, before retracting, sighing, “have you ever considered—I dunno—that Jeongyeon will like you regardless?”
Jihyo stared flatly.
“What?”
Nayeon huffed. “Like, she won’t care about how your chocolates taste. She’ll care that they’re yours .”
Oh. Oh.
Jihyo swallowed thickly. She needed to sit down. Her back slid against the kitchen island, and Nayeon was on her knees beside her in an instant, making sure Jihyo didn’t bang her joints on the flooring.
“Do you really think so, unnie?” Jihyo asked, whispered. Her voice shook. Tears threatened the back of her eyes. “Do you really think—?”
“Jihyo,” Nayeon said. “Just trust me, okay?”
Jihyo nodded. She did. She’d trust her friends with her heart. She already did by entrusting them with her crush on Jeongyeon—and so far, nobody had proven to Jihyo that she had made the wrong choice.
She would trust Nayeon.
Nayeon slapped her thighs as she stood up, groaning. “You ready? These chocolates aren’t going to make themselves, even if they taste like shit.”
Outstretched was Nayeon’s hand. Jihyo rolled her eyes but took Nayeon’s palm within her own, using it as leverage and support as she came to her feet. She sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her arm. She gave one last final, reassuring nod before Nayeon opened the doors.
“Jihyo!”
“Are you ready?”
“Unnies, fighting!”
Jihyo let out a choked laugh, grinning ear to ear. A tear rolled down her cheek, but Jihyo had never felt more loved, more grateful.
— 💝 —
“Why did we trust Nayeon with a knife?” Dahyun whispered behind her hand. Jihyo looked up from the instructions, glancing around the room. Nayeon seemed to be terrorizing Tzuyu with a butcher’s knife, and Jihyo closed her eyes. A wave of disappointment washed over her as she counted to five, breathing in slowly.
“Make sure Tzuyu doesn’t end up dead on my floor, please? Would you be so kind, Dubu?” Jihyo opened her eyes, pleading. Dahyun snorted but nodded in agreement, diving off in the direction of Tzuyu’s screams.
Thank God for Dahyun.
Jihyo had tasked each of her friends with a distinct part of the chocolate assembly to make things go smoother and quicker. Tzuyu and Nayeon were in charge of chopping the cacao butter and paste—each assigned to an ingredient. Momo and Sana man the stove, huddled around the double boiler like puppies around a food bowl. And Mina was in charge of pouring the chocolates into the molds and taking them to the freezer. Dahyun stayed at Jihyo’s side, her right-hand man, while Jihyo supervised, anxiously hovering, damn near helicoptering.
She was sure her friends were sick of her checking in every five seconds, pressuring them into perfection. Jihyo felt a bit guilty, sure, but her anxiety overtook everything, her entire being. She felt it in her bones, from her toes to her hair follicles. Her knees wobbled, even in the comfort of her own home.
Her hierarchy of needs was out of order.
Jihyo sighed. She set down the stapled set of papers, the edges fluttering violently onto the counter, audible. The room buzzed with activity, humming at a low vibration—one Jihyo could handle compared to her intense shudders, the earthquake that she was.
“How’s it going over here?” Jihyo asked as she wandered over to the stove. Momo turned, smiling.
“Ah, we’re just waiting for Nayeon and Tzuyu to finish up,” she replied, cocking her head in the direction of Nayeon and Tzuyu’s station. Jihyo turned her attention briefly but hastily returned to Momo and Sana as she heard Tzuyu screech. Her eyes remained the size of golf balls. Sana just sighed.
“Yeah. We know,” Sana sighed again, examining her nailbeds. Her eyes flicked up to meet Jihyo’s enlarged ones. “Does Dahyun have it covered?”
“God, I hope,” Jihyo groaned. “I don’t want to do damage control right now.”
Sana snickered at that.
“That’s… very fair, yeah,” Momo nodded, tilting her head from side to side, as if she were weighing options on a scale. “Do you want me to check on—?”
“No,” Jihyo cut off Momo in the middle of her sentence, and Momo closed her mouth. “Just—” Jihyo cut herself off with a large, elongated sigh, “let them be, for now.”
Sana snickered, her long nails covering her lips. Jihyo’s eyes were tired, but she laughed along, crinkling at the corners. Momo looked between the two, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but joined in on the laughter hesitantly until they all doubled over, cackling.
“What’s going on over there?” Nayeon called, practically yelling across the small kitchen.
Jihyo wiped the tears from her eyes. “Don’t even worry about it, unnie,” Jihyo called back. Nayeon scoffed, but Jihyo knew she wasn’t actually irritated. Nayeon loved theatrics. She was born to be a star, and Jihyo knew she was destined for the stage. She’d see her on Broadway in ten years, most likely. She’d be voted “most likely to win a Grammy” and actually pull through.
Jihyo wondered if she could accomplish her dreams, too. As small as they were, as minuscule in comparison—if romance was achievable. If she would find her princess, as she had dreamed of, if she would be the knight in shining armor. The savior of the story.
Jeongyeon’s savior.
Ever since she was a little girl, Jihyo had always dreamed of romance. She’d dreamed of an extravagant wedding with rose petals and streamers. Her lover was always blurry, out of reach, just out of her grasp. Too far away, just out of touch. But, when Jihyo realized she liked girls—more specifically, Jeongyeon—the form finalized. The clouds parted to reveal the bride, the veil lifting to show Jeongyeon each and every time. Unchanging, indistinguishable. The same face Jihyo had always known and loved, maybe older, maybe a bit more grown.
A hopeless romantic to a fault, Jihyo wondered if she was wasting her time. She needed to be realistic, after all. She couldn’t spend each day with her head in the clouds, daydreaming. If she didn’t prepare for the inevitable, the rejection that ate at her in the back of her mind, Jihyo knew she’d crumble, even worse than if she didn’t prepare for landing. If she didn’t come prepared—if she didn’t come with a landing pad, something to cushion her fall—she’d hit the ground after free-falling for years. She’d break all her bones. She’d die, really.
Jihyo didn’t want to die. Not necessarily.
— 💝 —
The days seemed to drag on like her feet behind her. Slow, tiring. Jihyo was down to the wire. Valentines wouldn’t come any faster.
“Unnie, I’m beat.” Jihyo wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, panting.
Jeongyeon giggled, turning her head around to look at Jihyo. Her eyes sparkled even in the bright gymnasium lights, and Jihyo felt her heart pound in her chest. Maybe it was just the cardio she completed, but something told her it was Jeongyeon. Jihyo swallowed hard.
“Yeah? Was it that bad?” Jeongyeon said, laughing. “I thought you were faster than me.”
Jihyo opened the door to the stairway, which led down to the locker rooms. Jeongyeon nodded as a ‘thank you,’ ducking as she entered the doorway. Jihyo couldn’t help but watch as the sweat dripped down the back of her neck, her hair tied up in a low ponytail. She gulped. Gross. So, so gross. Why was it attractive to her? Fuck.
“A bit,” Jihyo swallowed. She looked at her feet as she walked down the stairs. “When did I say that, though?”
At the bottom of the stairs, Jeongyeon turned, smiling. “I never forget what comes out your mouth, Ji,” she said, then turned on her heel. Jihyo stood, frozen. She wasn’t sure if it was the cool gymnasium air hitting her body, touching the sweat that chilled her to the bone, or what.
Probably not. Jihyo swallowed again. Her throat was dry, tacky. She needed water. “Are you coming?”
Jihyo cleared her throat. “Coming!” she called and picked up her pace, jogging down the hallway to catch up with Jeongyeon.
“What’s after this?” Jihyo asked, huffing. Jeongyeon hummed as she pushed open the locker room door, her arm outstretched above Jihyo so the door would stay open. Jihyo nodded, ducking underneath Jeongyeon’s forearm and entering. The locker room was bustling with girls, echoing with noise. Jihyo’s nose tickled at the scent of sweat and perfume mixing.
“Statistics,” Jeongyeon answered with a scrunch of her nose. “You?”
“Ah, I have English and Literature,” Jihyo said with a frown. They approached their lockers—right next to each other, of course—and Jihyo trained her eyes on the combination lock because out of the corner of her eye, Jeongyeon tossed her shirt to the bench behind them. Her breath hitched in her chest. She hoped Jeongyeon was too busy changing to notice, too busy to see Jihyo’s fingers fumbling with the lock for too long. She cursed as the numbers slipped past her hand again and again. And again.
Jeongyeon’s bra was a soft purple color. Jihyo’s eyes seemed to dart everywhere.
“You having issues?” Jeongyeon asked. Her shadow towered over Jihyo. Jihyo’s heart was weak in her chest. “What’s the combo?”
Jihyo forced the combination past her lips, but her feet were stuck to the floor, glued to the tile. Jeongyeon nudged her arm. Once, twice. Jihyo heard her huff, but she couldn’t look up to walk away. Sure, she’d seen Jeongyeon in her bra before. That was before she decided to confess—that her feelings were real, tangible. That was before Jihyo decided she could ruin their entire relationship.
“Can you, uh,” Jeongyeon cleared her throat, “I need to get through to help.”
Jihyo looked up. Jeongyeon tilted her head, her arm pressed against the locker, almost caging Jihyo in. She felt trapped, for sure. Her heart raced, face hot. In the shitty lighting of the locker rooms, Jeongyeon still looked like a goddess. The soft angles of her cheekbones seemed to glow. Jihyo opened her mouth and closed it like a fish out of water, gasping for air, for life, for something —
Jeongyeon pushed her—gently, of course—to the side. Jihyo stumbled but caught her footing, nonetheless. She cleared her throat, but Jeongyeon paid no attention, too focused on the task at hand. Her tongue stuck out from the corner of her mouth as she focused, her neck ducked down. Jihyo just stared. She shouldn’t have stared, but she did. Jihyo watched Jeongyeon as she popped her locker open with a triumphant grin, her eyes lighting up with satisfaction.
“Got it!” Jeongyeon turned her head, her ponytail swishing to the side. Jihyo forced a smile, the guilt eating her alive. “There ya go, Ji.”
“Thanks,” Jihyo said. She felt like she was burning alive, staring at the sun directly, too close. Icarus. Still, she forced her feet to move, her wings to expand. What was a few more feet? Another mile? Jihyo would be the first person to land on the sun at this rate. “Appreciated.”
Jeongyeon waved her hand, turning her attention back to her own clothes. The silence swallowed Jihyo whole. She stared at the dark black hole of her locker—the void, the null space where her clothes sat.
Jihyo let her shirt fall to the floor. She watched as it crumpled into a ball, a messy pile of fabric on the dirty tile. She couldn’t bring herself to care. Her mind was racing. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears.
Jihyo still felt like she was facing the sun, even as time continued to tick by, drag on. As Jihyo finished dressing, she noticed it had only been five minutes. She practically tore through her gym clothes in the process of changing. She blinked. Jihyo turned and saw Jeongyeon wasn’t nearly as far, still in her gym shorts. Jihyo blinked again, looking around the locker room. It was still bustling with life, like the 5 o’clock rush, as busy as it could ever be. Words echoed across the walls, bouncing off Jihyo’s ears. Her ears rang, tinnitus blaring out the noise, growing louder with each passing second.
“Jihyo. Jihyo!” Jeongyeon’s fingers snapped in front of her face. Her trance faded, the edges smudging. Jihyo shook her head, rapidly blinking to regain her consciousness and eyesight.
“Yeah?”
“Are you ready?” Jeongyeon said, her laughter bordering on exhaustion. Something tugged at Jihyo’s gut as she heard it. She bit her lip but nodded nonetheless, following Jeongyeon out of the locker room.
“Oh, shit,” Jihyo stopped in her tracks. Turning her neck, Jeongyeon stopped as well, head tilted to the side in confusion like a puppy. “Do you have any extra deodorant on you?”
Jeongyeon’s eyes dodged from side to side as she thought. “I think I have a perfume roller in my backpack. Do you wanna borrow it?”
Jihyo nodded, eyes wide, pleading. Jeongyeon shook her head. She reached around and started to dig through her bag, the two pushing themselves against the wall of the narrow hallway, making room for the ladies passing by. Jihyo anxiously rubbed her arm, gnawingly aware of the lingering smell of sweat on her body.
“Here, let me. Hold out your wrist?”
Jihyo furrowed her eyebrows together, opened her mouth to ask exactly what the fuck was going on before Jeongyeon took her wrist gently in her hands. Jihyo’s breath hitched. Her pulse raced. She knew Jeongyeon could feel it, too, and Jihyo looked up at her with wide eyes. Thankfully, Jeongyeon was too focused on the task at hand, with the cap between her teeth, and eyes focused on Jihyo’s pulsating wrist. With the roller in hand, she delicately applied the perfume, the ball rolling over her veins, and Jihyo could feel her body tremble.
The smell was nice, not overpowering. Comforting. It was something Jihyo was familiar with, as it was what Jeongyeon smelled like most of the time. Like daisies and fresh laundry. Clean, crisp.
It only put Jihyo more on edge, for some reason.
Her body shook and shivered violently. Shuddered, like chills wracked her body. Jeongyeon’s tongue stuck out of the side of her pretty, pink lips that shined in the iridescent lights of the tunnel. “Other hand?”
Jeongyeon’s voice was as soft as the perfume’s scent—delicate. Her eyelashes fluttered as she blinked at Jihyo, and Jihyo could only nod in response, a deer in the headlights of the sun, its creator’s eyes, awestruck, frozen. Jeongyeon’s laughter made Jihyo feel warm somehow, and she didn’t notice as Jeongyeon grabbed her other wrist, too distracted by Jeongyeon’s pretty smile.
“You’re all set,” Jeongyeon said, “unless you want some on your neck?”
Jihyo blinked.
“Just stay still.”
Trembling in her hands, Jihyo attempted to stay as still as she possibly could though acutely aware of each motion, each faltering movement her muscles made. Her breath was shallow, as shaky as she was. Hyperventilating. Jihyo’s head spun. Jeongyeon was too close, as close as Jihyo was to the sun, like Icarus, burning, scalding. The sweat on her skin felt like poison, burning holes into her, melting her down to the bone. Jeongyeon’s fingers brushed against Jihyo’s neck as she pushed away Jihyo’s hair, brushing it to the side behind Jihyo’s ear. Jihyo swore her hair was shaking, too. Every part of her—trembling. Jeongyeon’s breath touched Jihyo’s pulse point as she ducked down by her ear, perfume in hand. She held on to Jihyo’s left shoulder, steadying herself, though Jihyo was like the sea, unsteady, choppy waters. Not to be trusted.
It was over in a second. Though to Jihyo, the moment lasted for centuries. She lived in it. Made it her home. She’d die there, probably, even if she didn’t want to. She sure felt like she was dying, her heartbeat pounding through her neck, about to explode. Jihyo could practically taste blood, taste Jeongyeon’s soft smell.
Maybe she deserved to die.
“There, all done,” Jeongyeon said, examining Jihyo as if she were examining her finished art piece—satisfied, gently smiling, though Jihyo couldn’t read her eyes. Jihyo gulped. She couldn’t speak. She just nodded instead. “Ready?”
Jihyo nodded again. She was getting dizzy. Dizzy from the scent of Jeongyeon’s perfume, from her pulse rushing in her ears, from the walls closing in.
Jeongyeon turned on her heel, hand outstretched. “Let’s go.”
Jihyo followed her like she always would.
— 💝 —
Valentine’s Day. D-Day. Doomsday itself.
Jihyo swore she could feel herself coming to an early grave.
The claws of death gripped onto her ankles as she walked, like a ball and chain, dragging her down, clanging against the floor as she dragged her feet across the pavement. Her hands shook—not only from the cold, frost nipping at her fingers—but from the anxiety that devoured her from the inside.
The box of chocolates was simply packaged. An iridescent, shiny red outside wrapping covered the circular box, and a golden bow sat on the top, perfectly wrapped. Snow landed on the box, melting as it touched the red wrapping paper, turning into droplets of water. Jihyo watched as she walked, staring down.
She didn’t realize she was already at school, approaching the building rapidly.
Jihyo’s feet froze. Her breathing, too. A boy bumped into her, mumbling under his breath about how she should watch it. Jihyo didn’t pay him any attention. She was too busy staring down at the entrance of her high school like the entrance of a lion’s den.
Jihyo shuddered. Her stomach felt hot, somehow. Jihyo felt her heartbeat in her throat. It was now or never. She had been preparing this for days, weeks, years. She was well-acquainted with the feeling of loving Jeongyeon, the feelings Jeongyeon didn’t reciprocate. Why was she suddenly drowning in them?
Maybe she wasn’t ready. Maybe Jihyo wasn’t ready to face the truth just yet.
Delusional, maybe, but she liked thinking Jeongyeon could love her the same way.
With a large sigh, Jihyo entered the lion’s den, her knees wobbling, knocking together.
“Unnie! You have them!” a voice called.
Jihyo turned, eyebrows furrowed. Chaeyoung waved enthusiastically, arm intertwined with Dahyun’s as she dragged the brunette across the tile floors. Dahyun stumbled behind her.
“Keep your voice down!” Jihyo hissed. Her face felt like it could melt onto the floor. She looked around franticly. “What if she’s here?”
Chaeyoung flattened her lips. “Pft. Yeah, uh huh,” she snickered sarcastically. Dahyun elbowed her lightly. “I’m just saying!” Chaeyoung defended herself against the action with a huff. “She’ll be here late, and Jihyo will be losing her shit, like always.”
“That is not the case, like, ever,” Jihyo frowned.
“Unnie...” Dahyun’s voice was gentle, and Jihyo grimaced.
“Don’t you guys have a class to get to?” Jihyo snapped. Chaeyoung raised her hands in defense—the white flag raised, waiving—and began to back away slowly, dragging Dahyun along with her.
Jihyo huffed. Making her way down the bustling hallways, crowded with lovebirds, Jihyo tried to keep herself from snapping. She clutched the chocolate box close to her vest, eyes darting around as she walked. She swallowed thickly. Sliding through her classroom door, she slunk into her seat, shoulders shrouded.
There was still plenty of time until her first period began. Jihyo sighed, exhaling slowly. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she grimaced. Tuning out the confessions and love songs that materialized in her ears, drowning them with her anxious thoughts instead. The anxious thoughts only continued. And continued. An endless train of ‘what ifs’ looping over and over. Jihyo’s nails were picked over. The week had been brutal to her nailbeds overall, torn apart and bloody. Jihyo wasn’t sure if she could do this.
The lunch bell rang. Students jumped from their seats, scattering throughout the school like in Ratatouille when the mice fled to the sewers. Jihyo felt just as frantic, just as lost.
Jihyo was frozen in her seat until she got a text from Sana.
Sana san
sending her ur way now ! :P teehee have fun
Jihyo felt like vomiting suddenly. Carefully, with shaky hands, she pulled the box of chocolates out from underneath her desk. Her distorted mirror image reflected at her, shining red. She stood up and forced herself out the door, balancing herself near the window, clutching the ledge for dear life.
“Jihyo? Sana said you wanted to see me?”
Jihyo really felt like throwing up now. Really, truly, one hundred percent.
“Hi, unnie,” Jihyo’s voice trembled. “Yeah, uh. Can we talk a bit?”
Jeongyeon tucked her hair behind her ear. She looked concerned, eyebrows furrowed, frowning. A red barrette tucked into her bangs—a signature of love, dedicated to the day itself.
“Is everything alright?” Jeongyeon asked. Jihyo wanted to jump out the window.
“Yeah, um.” Jihyo shifted from heel to toe, from left to right. Her weight transferred from one leg to another. “I wanted to tell you something. And if you hate me afterward, it’s fine—”
“I’d never hate you—”
Jihyo grimaced but kept going. “I can’t keep lying to you, though. So, here. Take these.” Jihyo thrust the box of chocolates forward, eyes trained on the floor. “I-I made them for you. For Valentine’s. If you can tell where this is going.”
Jihyo stole a glance. Peeking upward, she looked at Jeongyeon. She was open-mouthed, blushing, eyes wide and sparkling. She held her hand over her chest, blinking rapidly.
“Jihyo?” Jeongyeon’s voice was barely audible, just a whisper in the cacophonic hallway. Jihyo had to step closer to make sure she heard.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you,” Jeongyeon sniffed. She nearly toppled Jihyo over in a tight embrace. Jihyo felt the wet tears from Jeongyeon pressed into her collar. “I—actually. It’s back in my bag in the classroom. I got you something, too. I was going to actually—”
“Huh?” Jihyo pulled back. She blinked. Was she processing everything correctly?
“I feel the same,” Jeongyeon’s hand came up and cupped Jihyo’s cheek softly. “C’mon. Let me show you what I got. It’s not as exciting, but...”
Jeongyeon moved her hand to entangle their fingers, and Jihyo obliged happily, still a bit lost—more so in shock than anything. The classrooms blurred by as she followed Jeongyeon, her arm outstretched behind her. She kept stealing giggly glances, peeking over her shoulder, blushing at Jihyo. And Jihyo’s heart would flutter each time.
Her brain kept repeating that she was dreaming. That it wasn’t real, she couldn’t be living her dreams. But Jeongyeon’s palm was sweaty in her own, and Jihyo’s feet ached on the tile floor as they approached Jeongyeon’s classroom. Jihyo even pinched herself, just to make sure—and yes, she wasn’t dreaming.
“Here, I know it’s not as impressive as what you made, but—”
“Any gift is special as long as it’s from you, unnie,” Jihyo shot her a pleading look. Jeongyeon huffed, but Jihyo could see the blush on her cheeks regardless.
“Here. Take it,” Jeongyeon said, handing Jihyo a store-bought box of chocolates, though the brand was all too familiar to Jihyo, as it was her favorite, the kind she had been to ever since she was a kid. Jihyo gasped.
“You got me my favorites?” Jihyo’s body vibrated with excitement, with gratefulness. Jeongyeon giggled, nodding. Jihyo felt like tackling her to the floor in a hug, but she restrained herself, grabbing Jeongyeon’s hands in her own and holding her tightly. “You’re too good to me, unnie. Thank you.”
“Wanna share?” Jeongyeon asked, biting her lip. “It’s lunch, after all.”
They sat on the bench by the window. The sun was warm on Jihyo’s back, her cheeks even warmer. Chocolates in her lap, water bottle by her foot, her knees touching Jeongyeon’s. Everything felt complete. Everything felt whole.
And Jihyo may have been a coward—she can admit that. She can admit to her anxious faults. But as Jeongyeon hand-fed her chocolates, Jihyo didn’t know why she was ever nervous in the first place—why she even doubted her best friend, her lover.