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Autumn was always the reason for boredom. It barely startled Yerim on her senses, turned her into a jittery, anxious mess. There was nothing to live by in Autumn, not even a single reason why she should love it. Sure, the colors were fascinating, with the variety of leaves and all. It was not so cold she couldn't leave the house if she wanted to, and spices were all the rage around markets and cafes.
But she had no reason to leave. After all, Autumn wasn't a celebrating season. It didn't evoke laughter or good memories. To Yerim, it was just another season she couldn't wish any harder to skip.
Then, Winter came. There were no leaves, not even brown ones. Only noisy kids playing in the snow. Of course, Yerim didn't blame them. They had to get their happiness somewhere, right? She understood. But her happiness did not come with Winter, or snow. To Choi Yerim, wearing heavy coats was just a bother she couldn't wait to get rid of.
So, Yerim sat near the fireplace, wishing the cold would slip away soon and make way for one of the cheerier seasons, where Yerim could finally dream and let her dreams give her reason to sigh in wonder.
With a grace Yerim loved dearly, Spring came into view. It was the time she was most excited for, if not for the season to come - her favorite - then, for the colors. Mixes of light pink, yellow, and red; bluebirds singing and waking her up in the mornings; green grass she could run and jump and fall into (it would never die, only welcome her in its arms like a good old friend). Yerim couldn't be happier. Except, she could. Because follow Spring, was her beloved Summer.
And when Spring ended, Choi Yerim was on the edge of her seat, so strangely excited for her allergies which sprung in cohorts with the rising heat. You shouldn't stare at the sun.
But Yerim couldn't help it.
[…]
Summer is definitely here, the announcements would say, passing black letters in white rectangles. Newscasts and all TV programs alike would ditch suit and ties for a lighter approach in clothing, khaki shorts and Polos in light colors. But forget the TV, Yerim. Are you ready? Did you pack your bags?
They were packed for weeks now, she would say if her idea was to sound like the most excited person in the world. Frankly, that wasn't Yerim's goal. She just wanted to leave for summer camp as quickly as humanly possible.
Yerim made a beeline for the kitchen, hoping breakfast was as delicious as the one made every summery wednesday, when the Choi family left for their annual summer camp, like many such other families. Except, Mr. Choi didn't think anyone's kid was as excited for it as Yerim.
There was a generally troublesome clutter of traveling bags on the living room, and in her unstoppable excitement, Yerim nearly tripped on it—although she was so happy nearly tripping once was not going to get in the way of it. Her parents heard the noise, but dismissed it laughing when their breathless daughter entered the kitchen.
"She won't calm down, will she?" Her mother asked, more rhetorically than anything, to her husband, knowing Yerim was right there with them.
"Not a chance."
"Hey, you know I'm right here, right?" She crossed her arms indignantly, checking on their progress in regards to food. "When are we leaving?"
"After eating." Her dad responded, scraping vegetables from the cutting board onto the omelet mix.
"And when are we eating?"
"When it's ready." Yerim's mother answered this time, oiling a frying pan and setting it on the stove.
Yerim groaned, dissatisfied with the lack of haste her parents possessed, and bolted off the kitchen, not wanting to slow them even further. She had no time for their kitchen banter, or their nagging about her allergies. There was only one thing floating in her mind. One particular someone, if one wanted specifics.
When summer wasn't here, Yerim reminisced. She liked thinking about past summers, because every single one was as exciting as the previous, and the chills in the back of her neck never faltered, only getting more and more frequent as summer days passed.
It was one summer that Yerim met Hyeju, and it was in each next one of them that she fell for her more and more until her legs had gone weaker and weaker every second she looked at Hyeju.
And the more summers passed, the more Yerim thought Hyeju felt the same. Her magnetic eyes seeked hers; her often chapped lips prickled right below Yerim's cheekbone when she kissed her hello and goodbye. Her hands took hers like they were some safe haven, and there was nothing Yerim coulld do to kill the butterflies flying around in her stomach, ending her peace of mind and setting her heart on a wild chase.
However, there was little Yerim could do. Yerim loved these summers, and the thought of rejection ruined her courage without end. She could only dream, and dream she did. For in her dreams, Hyeju was already kissing her, rather than on the cheek, on the lips. And in her dreams, Hyeju's hands were already claimed as her safe haven.
[…]
Yerim was enjoying the car trip, but in the distance, the Summer Camp sign made her nervous. Normally she would be one of the first girls arriving, but sometimes, Hyeju liked to surprise her and show up out of the blue. Hyeju was one of the girls who usually came to the camp by herself. Only Yerim knew that it was because her family was busy running a restaurant and often couldn't afford to take a break.
Hyeju hid her feelings about such matters quite well, but Yerim had acquired an acute sense over the years of when to comfort or distract Hyeju.
When the Choi family arrived, the afternoon was just setting and heat waves, just starting to subside. She spent the least of their arrival organizing her belongings in the cabin, and then rushing out with the pretense of looking for Hyeju. That was code for meeting her, because Yerim already knew where she was.
Yerim went down the longish pier stairs, and just as she suspected, there was Hyeju. The air on her lungs thinned, stomach dropping like a pin. She had to take a moment for her legs to work again. With hesitant steps, Yerim approached.
Quietly they sat together, swinging their legs in the air, admiring the way the sun shone bright and reflected on the lake. Yerim knew Hyeju had already noticed her, but she remained silent, not even stealing one glance at her.
"You're really early today." Yerim's voice was small, her nerves peaking at how close her hand was to Hyeju's over the hot and damp wooden pier floor.
Hyeju didn't answer verbally, rather nodding her head so imperceptibly it was easy to miss. Her eyes remained on the water, and her silence wasn't unusual, but Yerim was a little annoyed at the way Hyeju would stay silent in times like these when all she wanted was to hear her voice.
"…how have you been?" She tried again, to elicit words out of Hyeju. It did work, albeit in strange ways.
"I always like to come here in the summer. The water's warm at night and you can see the stars."
Yerim smiled at this. Hyeju always had something interesting to say when she was not being her usual, quiet kinda self.
"It'll get dark soon. You're gonna be staying here?"
"Probably in my cabin, playing on my Switch or something."
Yerim stood quiet for a moment, pondering over her next choice of words. Sometimes she liked Hyeju's sullen nature; most times, the silence made her fidgety and Yerim didn't know what to do.
"Can I stay? With you?" She asked, and for a moment she feared there was no way Hyeju would say yes. Maybe Yerim was pushing too much, and sometimes push came to shove.
But Hyeju showed no signs of being even slightly annoyed with her. She turned to stare at Yerim for a moment, a bit lost in thought, although none clear.
"Of course."
Yerim smiled, relieved of the doubt previously settled, and clung on to Hyeju's arm, leaning on her shoulder, watching as the sun set and day turned into night.
[…]
She was still clinging to Hyeju's arm as they returned to the cabins.
"I'll just go grab some stuff and I'll be right back."
Yerim was hesitant to leave, but she also wanted to clean herself up and look presentable in the eventuality that…
That what?
She got whole body chills at the thought—or rather, the thought of the thought. She had never felt more conscious of her own body, the way it was changing.
Her silent pondering inevitably got noticed by Hyeju, as she was still standing there by the porch, politely waiting to see her off.
Yerim raised her hand awkwardly, and shaking her head in embarassment, went inside. She hoped her parents wouldn't notice how red her ears were, and if they did, considered it an effect of the summer heat.
But with Yerim there was no such luck. Her dad looked up from his magazine, eyebrow raised and eyes questioning.
"Messing around with that girl?"
She barely made it a step before dying from cringing inside. Her mom, on the other hand, broke out in laughter, which only made the embarassment Yerim was feeling more palpable.
Yerim didn't answer the questions and prodding. She didn't need to.
[…]
"He said what?" There were tears of laughter on Haseul's face as Yerim recounted the point blank curiosity with which her parents approached their conversations. This was the only to properly decompress—to retell all of it in dramatic fashion to one of her friends, as they hung out in Hyeju's cabin.
Hyeju was still, through all of this, characteristically quiet. But the expression on her face wasn't one of plain disinterest, but… annoyance?
"They're just worried about you," she piped in, surprising Yerim. "don't be so distant with them."
Yerim didn't know how to react to this. She hadn't realised how strong Hyeju's feelings regarding this topic were, and didn't necessarily want to assume anything out of it, but her mind couldn't help itself but race with questions.
"It's just teenager stuff. When you're older you'll get it." Haseul redirected the conversation, seeming not that surprised at Hyeju's comments.
Yerim scoffed. "You're not even that much older than us." But she was still thinking about what Hyeju had said. Was she wrong in dismissing her parents? It wasn't like she didn't love them. Yerim just didn't like having to discuss that kinda thing with them. Besides, wasn't this her life? Her body?
She looked up to see Hyeju staring straight at her, and her eyes spoke of the same thinking.
Yerim's ears became red and hot all over again. She hadn't stopped to overanalyse it yet, but now that she thought about it, Hyeju had been a lot less physical with her as they grew older. Hugging, sure. But not anything… beyond that.
"Well, much as I love to hear your storms in a cup, I gotta go back to my business. Don't want the girls being without me too long. Enough third-wheeling, right?"
Haseul stood up, and Yerim could swear she saw Hyeju look a little panicked.
"Don't have too much fun without me."
As Haseul left, Yerim felt a little sad. Was Hyeju really that worried about being alone with her? What about her feelings? Was Yerim wrong about those?
Yerim was afraid of the cogs turning in her mind, making up facts to cause her to spiral. No, you're wrong. Stop saying that.
"Yerim?" Hyeju's voice was one of the only things that could break such a spell. But she was also the reason for it.
"Do you not like me?" The words just came out. Maybe it was for the better, because all of that doubt would surely be worse.
"What? No! I do like you."
Hyeju sat beside her, hand resting on top of hers, beautiful eyes kindly questioning where this had come from.
"Like, like like me?"
She smiled.
"Like, like you."
Then why won't you touch me?
But Yerim didn't say that. Instead, she chose to express it in the only way she could think of, and besides, Yerim had wanted to do that for a long time now.
Hyeju had gotten into the habit of using chapstick, and for that, Yerim was glad. Her lips were soft, hand reaching to touch her face. It was everything Yerim wanted, happening, in real life.
As she tried to reach for Hyeju's waist, she pulled back, all of a sudden. She seemed to sense Yerim's frustration.
"I'm- I'm sorry. I really like you, really. I just don't wanna do anything to scare you."
All this time, this was it.
"You could never scare me. I want this. I want you."
And that was all Hyeju needed to hear.