Chapter Text
Silence. The only thing that was able to ease the tightness in her chest and quiet the endless murmurs that lingered in her mind. Time and time again, she had found consolation in her own space, retreating into a place where she could submerge herself beneath the surface, unseen and untouched, where she could be alone but still never lonely. It was a feeling like no other, like being back in your mother's womb. For a long time, Seulgi had thought it was a sensation that only lived with herself — that is until she found Yoo Jaeyi.
From the first time she'd laid her eyes on her, Seulgi knew there was something between them she couldn’t define — a connection, invisible yet undeniable, that only grew more tangible with time, as they grew closer. Jaeyi had allowed her to come closer, and though Seulgi had been wary at first, unsure of the true intentions behind Jaeyi’s actions, she couldn’t help but be drawn in. How could someone see her so purely when she had always been invisible? How could someone care for her so deeply when nobody had ever shown her such love? Well, that’s not true, her parents had loved her once, and searched for her tirelessly, until they gave up. But Jaeyi had never given up on her. Not ever. Not even when she touched rock bottom and saw no escape.
That was why, despite months of silence, despite all the signs pointing to something unspeakable, Seulgi continued to wait for her. There was no body — Jaeyi's father had pointed that out himself. Also, the girl had promised her she would always come to her even if she was a little late. So she waited, she did. She waited with the belief that one day Jaeyi would return, because deep down, Seulgi knew — no, she was certain — that Yoo Jaeyi was still out there, alive somewhere.
So she would work hard day by day, trusting herself like Jay had trusted her. The absence of the girl had created a void inside of her heart that she had tried to fill with her studies, attempting to find comfort in her dreams — dreams where Jaeyi would return, where they walked together hand in hand, just like they had done so many times before. Until it turned dark and she left her, alone.
The worst part, though, wasn’t the nightmares — it was the regret. Regret for not talking to her one last time, for wasting in her stupid fit of rage the last moments they could have spent together. Regret for not holding her hand or hugging her the way Jaeyi might have needed. Regret for, in a way, following Jaeyi’s expectations yet at the same time not trusting her one last time. Regret for hearing but not listening, for looking yet not seeing. Regret for so many words left unspoken.
Auntie had tried to convince her otherwise, though. She believed Seulgi was simply trying to cope with the guilt of not having seen the signs of the true feeling inside Jaeyi’s heart and maybe she was but still, above everything, she had learned from her mistakes to trust Jaeyi with her very soul. Till the end.
And finally, with the fall of the first snow, Seulgi had received a present. Exactly one day before her college entrance exam. It was a pair of finely crafted shoes and a blue envelope. She didn’t understand it at first, not until she pulled out the keychain from Korea University — a keychain she had once given to someone, as a lucky charm. A symbol of her trust.
Seulgi raced downstairs, hoping she could catch a glimpse of anyone, of her. But nobody was there. However, as she held the blue envelope in her hands, she realized there was something else inside. A postcard of a bridge she knew all too well. Of course, it was the Borit-do bridge in Pohang. It was a place she remembered well — after all, it was around that area where she had gotten lost as a child. Her orphanage and primary school weren't far from there either.
Tears began to gather in her eyes, but a smile slowly spread across her face, wide and full of joy, so pure and overwhelming that she was certain she had never felt so happy before.
And that was only five days ago.
As soon as she took the exam, Seulgi had began to weave a meticulous plan to escape to Gyeongsangbuk-do, claiming the need to return home and rest, to bury herself in the quietude of familiar surroundings and forget, at least for a while, the weight of the exam and the turbulent journey that had troubled her in Seoul. But of course, it wouldn’t be that simple — not with Yoo Taejoon, still out of jail, permanently on the watch. So she packed her bags, carefully orchestrating her departure. She would bid her farewells to Auntie in the afternoon and actually left for the train station but took special care to mingle between the busy crowds until the night train. From there, she took two more buses, putting special care to disappear to change outfits in case someone was following her. And lastly, she decided to catch a taxi from Gongang-ri, making sure at all times she wasn’t being followed. The security scan in the train station gave her some guarantee she hadn’t been slipped a tracker in her belongings and she kept her phone clutched with a vigilance that bordered on obsession, never letting it leave her sight.
After what felt like an eternity of travel, she finally arrived at the place on Jay's postcard. The only time she lost sight of her luggage was when she reached the bridge. Seulgi left her larger bags behind a sculpture of a wave and some brightly painted, cartoonish fish. Then, she began her slow, deliberate walk. With each step, her heart pounded in her chest. After all this time, after all the uncertainty, she was finally so close to see her again.
The wait took hours, though the passing time hardly mattered. After months of not knowing where Jaeyi was, she would have waited weeks, years even if she could guarantee Jaeyi was alright. The seagulls cried above the rhythmic break of waves against the rocks, the soft afternoon light bathing everything in hues of yellow and orange — a golden yearning, an aching longing. It was a beauty she had never truly appreciated before in this place, and perhaps it was because this very beauty that captivated her, that absorbed her so completely, that she failed to hear the sound of approaching wheels.
And so, the first thing she felt was the firm embrace from behind, one so tight that locked her in place, followed closely by the warmth of her body. It was a heat so familiar, so intimate, that it could only be compared to the soothing weight of Jaeyi's chin resting gently against her shoulder.
Seulgi didn’t need to look, she just knew — a size meassuring hug. At last she could breathe. A sigh, deep and long, escaped her chest, one she hadn’t known was lodged so deep inside. For the first time in months she could finally fill her chest with air, and it felt like flying through the sky yet firmly anchored, grounded by Jaeyi’s arms. Safe. Contained. Seulgi felt rooted and unable to bear the lightest movement. They just stood there, enjoying every second of the moment, almost afraid any rash movement would snap them out of that dream.
“I was a little late,” Jaeyi’s voice was hushed, breathe containing emotion, but calm all the same. “I’m sorry, Seulgi-ah.”
Whether it was the apology itself or the way her name danced on her lips, Seulgi didn’t know, but her sight blurred with tears that she fought to hold back. She didn’t want Jay to see her cry — not now, not when Jaeyi had done so much for her. She didn’t want her to believe she was weak.
“It’s okay,” Seulgi whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat. Then she took a deep breath, gathering herself, and finally turned slowly to face her. The absence of Jay’s touch was replaced by the overwhelming sight of her — more alive than Seulgi had ever dared to dream. Seulgi had almost forgotten how painfully beautiful Jay was, but then there she stood, right there in front of her, without the burdens that withered her down weighting on her. She was ethereal, like she could vanish at any moment. And maybe she could. “I knew you’d come.”
A soft, genuine smile spread across Jaeyi’s face, one that Seulgi had not seen in so long. It warmed her from the inside out.
“Should we move?” Seulgi asked, voice a little unsteady.
“It’s okay.” Jaeyi adjusted her cap and checked her skate’s whereabouts, as if she had suddenly forgotten where she’d left it. “I’ve been watching for a while, nobody followed you.” Of course she had.
And then, in a gesture just as intimate as familiar, Jaeyi reached out, cupping Seulgi’s cheeks in her hands, her touch tender and comforting. The gentleness of the gesture was enough to make Seulgi’s composure crack. But then Jaeyi spoke, slow and steady: “You did good.”
That was it. The last thread broke and everything she had buried deep within herself — the agony of believing Jaeyi was gone, the frustration of waiting, the tension of hiding, the love that clung to her heart — all of it came pouring out in a cascade. Tears flowed freely, a downpur of emotions that overwhelmed her, and this time, it was Seulgi the one to pull Jaeyi into her arms. She buried her face in the crook of Jay’s neck, hoping the embrace would ease the sorrow, the vulnerability she couldn’t hold back anymore.
After a brief moment of shock, Jaeyi’s arms enveloped her, pulling her even closer and drawing comforting patterns on her back until the sobs subsided. Slowly, the weight in her chest that had suffocated her for months began to feel lighter, as if evaporated by the soothing warmth of Jaeyi’s body.
They had hugged before, of course — many times. Soon enough in their friendship, Jaeyi had learned it was an effective way to offer solace in moments of turmoil, when Seulgi was about to lose control. During their darkest days, all those months ago, Jay even allowed herself to be vulnerable, to lean into an embrace that Seulgi had offered with just as much care and comfort. But there was something different about this moment. For the first time, the weight of their past seemed to lift, the ghosts that haunted them fading into the distance. It was the first time Jaeyi had hugged her back, drowning into the depth of their shared emotion, and in that embrace, Seulgi felt something powerful stir within her. It was intimate, in a way that couldn’t be defined by words, and in that a moment, it was also like it could be no longer defined by pain either.
When Seulgi’s breath finally evened out, Jaeyi gently brushed away the trail of tears from her cheeks. She took Seulgi’s hand on her own, like she’d done countless times before, picked up her skate, and they began to walk. Hand in hand, they strolled down the bridge, the sound of their footsteps mingling with the soft rhythm of the ocean.
After a while, when they arrived to the center of Pohang, Jaeyi broke the silence.
“It’s cold,” she remarked, her breath rising in a soft cloud in the crisp air with the fall of evening. “This city is prettier in the summer. I didn’t think you’d come this soon.”
Seulgi’s mind wandered for a moment, wondering whether Jaeyi had been expecting her or she had arrived there by chance. But with Yoo Jaeyi, there was no such a thing as coincidence. Jay had given her a pair of shoes — the last piece of uniform she had yet to offer. Seulgi had kept questioning herself if there was some deepest meaning on such present apart from a gift to start her new chapter in Med School neatly. Perhaps this time she wasn’t so afraid of Seulgi running away from her. Maybe, just maybe, the shoes were an invitation to run back to her. Well, if it was, Seulgi had taken it.
“How was the exam?” Jaeyi asked, snapping Seulgi from her thoughts.
Out of all of the things they could talk about, that was the last Seulgi wanted to focus on. It wasn’t like she didn’t care about the exam — she did, greatly. After all, Seulgi had spent the last months of her life studying day and night, all for the opportunity Jay had given her. And hopefully to live up to the girl’s expectations — no, not to her expectations but to the boundless faith Jay seemed to have in her, even when Seulgi hadn’t been sure of herself.
“I don’t want to think about that.” Her words came out more severe than she had intended so she soon recoiled. “It went well, thanks to you.”
Seulgi could feel Jaeyi’s gaze on her, sharp and inquisitive as always, but this time she couldn’t bring herself to meet it. She was afraid, scared she would break again. The fact that Jaeyi had been so certain about her competence, the way she cared so much about her health and future to give her placebo instead of the drugs she asked for... That blind trust Jay had in her still pulled some tender strings in Seulgi’s heart that made her feel a bit too soft for her taste.
“It was always you. I did nothing.”
There she was again. Seulgi pressed her lips into a thin line, holding back the words she longed to say. But tonight wasn’t the night for that. There would be much time, plenty of time, to discuss it all later. Time to repay Jaeyi for everything she had done for her, for all the support, encouragement and the healing company that had carried Seulgi that far. Without Jaeyi, without her faith in Seulgi, none of this would have been possible. That was the one thing Seulgi would never agree with Jay on.
The safe house was more mundane than Seulgi had imagined. In her mind, she had been torn between the idea of a secluded cave, impervious to any trace, and the vision of a lavish palace, the kind Jaeyi would be used to. The reality, however, was far simpler. Jaeyi had found a modest apartment on the outskirts of Pohang — isolated enough to remain out of the public eye, yet not so remote as to attract unwanted attention. The space itself was unremarkable, with a tiny entrance leading to a modern living room furnished with a couch, a light wooden coffee table and a television. It was the collection of ocean-themed paintings that decorated every wall what truly stood out — waves, fish, seabeds — it wasn’t the immersive world of Jaeyi’s old bedroom but it was unmistakably hers, and the realization made a smile tug at Seulgi’s lips. Less obvious, although Seulgi didn’t miss it, was the Lucid Fall album next to a small stereo. The sight of it made a pang stir in Seulgi’s stomach, a conflicting swirl of emotions. She hadn’t been able to listen to their music ever since that day — the images of her father lying lifeless in a surgery room as that monster hovered over him twisted her mind. Still, she understood why Jay had bought that album again. Just as Seulgi would think of her father, Jaeyi, too, would likely think of her sister whenever the music played.
“You’re supposed to be dead.” Seulgi remarked. “How are you…?”
“Renting an apartment?” The girl supplied, her tone dry. “I got some savings from previous business.” Seulgi didn’t need to stretch her imagination to know what she was referring to. Selling drugs to rich teenagers had its profits, although she had always wondered why someone like Jaeyi would need that kind of money. Now she knew. Had Jaeyi pictured a situation like this before — one where she would run away from her father and start a new life?
“But when you don’t exist anymore” Jaeyi continued, her voice losing its edge, “you can’t do much. I needed a new identity but getting one isn’t as easy as they make it look in the movies.”
Seulgi shouldn’t have been surprised by how meticulous Jaeyi’s planning had been, even after her disappearance. A wave of sadness swept over her at the thought that Jaeyi’s newfound freedom had been consumed by the need to hide, to avoid being found. However, Jaeyi had also made the most of those months, the freedom from constant surveillance and the grueling demands of her past life manifesting in every corner of that apartment. Seulgi was glad Jaeyi had found a new beginning, one to the life she actually wanted, but there was a part of her — on that rested in the depths of her heart — that wished the girl had trusted her with her plan, even though she knew exactly why she didn’t. Seulgi had the tendency to act rashly on emotion. That part of her, bitter and wounded, resented in a way how Jaeyi had moved forward while Seulgi had been left behind, suffering in uncertainty, haunted by the question of whether she had truly taken her own life even though she trusted with all her heart. She didn’t want to ask why it had taken Jaeyi so long to communicate with her — of course, it was a stupid question. But still.
“So?” Seulgi insisted, voice straining as Jaeyi showed no signs of continuing.
The girl released a quiet sigh and removed her coat and cap, draping them across the couch before she spoke.
“My mother,” she said, tone as cold as the weather. “Turns out she’s more reasonable than I thought. She gave me a contact before I... no questions asked.” The flicker of surprise on Seulgi’s face soon darkened into a frown of concern, a look that made Jaeyi’s lips curve into a brief, knowing smile. “She won’t say a word,” Jaeyi continued, gaze unwavering. “She hates my father too much. And even if she did she wouldn’t still be able to find me.”
“Maybe she’s just glad you’re alive somewhere.” Seulgi murmured.
Jaeyi’s laugh was sharp and fleeting. “This... is a loose end I keep in mind.” Her expression softened for a moment, her lips pressing into a faint smile before she extended her hand to Seulgi. “Woo Yoojae. Pleased to meet you.”
Seulgi’s heart skipped a beat.
“Woo?”
She waited for an answer that never came. Jaeyi simply stood there, her hand outstretched, silently inviting Seulgi to take it. And after a short beat of hesitation, Seulgi did. Her fingers met Jaeyi’s, their hands shaking in an exchange that began with resolve but gradually softened into something more familiar, more intimate. As their palms lingered together, Seulgi couldn’t help but feel the fleeting sensation that, if she let go, Jaeyi might disappear once again.
The name Jaeyi had chosen, however, disturbed her. It was close — too dangerously close — to her own. She had even kept her last name within it, a reckless, almost careless move that didn’t quite align with the calculated persona Seulgi had always known. Perhaps it was a deliberate choice, a way to mock her father, to hide in plain sight but it made no sense for Jaeyi to be so reckless. The choice of the last name, however, it made Seulgi’s belly bubble with a somewhat uncomfortable sensation — itchy and oddly pleasant — that she tried fiercely to calm down.
“Are you hungry?” The girl asked, breaking the silence, and Seulgi nodded once in response.
The kitchen was the modest part of the apartment, probably — definitely smaller than the one in Jaeyi’s parent’s house but enough for the two of them. The countertops were long, though the space felt cozy, intimate. Jaeyi opened the fridge and pulled out a dish of leftover stew, the pungent aroma of kimchi following soon after. She carefully plated the food, dividing it into two portions before adding a bowl of rice to each. It was simple, unpretentious — but it felt like something more. A gesture of normalcy, of something resembling a life.
“It’s edible. Tomorrow we’ll go buy some groceries and cook,” Jaeyi said, her tone light as she set the plates down on the table, a subtle smile on her lips.
Seulgi raised an eyebrow. “Do you cook?”
Jaeyi shot her a glance, a half-amused, half-mocking look that spoke volumes. She continued heating the stew, arranging the plates with a practiced ease that didn’t cease surprising the other girl.
“I put ingredients together and hope it tastes good,” Jaeyi replied nonchalantly. She served Seulgi's plate, then paused, waiting for her reaction.
Seulgi hesitated before taking a bite. The taste was odd — unfamiliar, slightly off — but not entirely unpleasant. It was just... unexpected.
“It’s good,” Seulgi lied, offering a kind smile.
Jaeyi, unperturbed, took a bite of her own, then promptly made a face, her nose scrunching in distaste.
"It was better yesterday," she muttered, staring at the plate with a perplexed frown. "Meat is supposed to taste better the next day, right?"
The look on her face was too funny, Seulgi couldn’t help but chuckle. There was something endearing in Jaeyi’s confusion, as if, despite her best efforts to create a new life, there were still traces of the person she used to be.
But that wasn’t the only thing Saulgi noticed.
After dinner, Seulgi quietly observed Jaeyi as she went through the routine of preparing her vitamins, taking them with a sip of water. Even now, free from the looming weight of the admission exam, unburdened by her father’s controlling grip, Jaeyi still adhered to these habits, these rituals. It was as though, despite everything, she couldn’t quite break the chains that had once bound her. A bird could fly free, Seulgi thought, but until the scars from its cage healed completely, it would keep flying in circles, drawn back to the patterns it knew.
Still, a small smile tugged at Seulgi’s lips, one that carried a touch of mischief and amusement. It wasn’t a smile born of mockery, but of recognition. Jaeyi’s need for structure, for the familiar, reminded Seulgi of the quiet resilience in her.
“What?” Jaeyi asked, catching the look on her face.
“Finally, there’s something you’re not good at.”
Jaeyi arched an eyebrow, unfazed. “Would I be in this situation if I was so great?”
The two of them locked eyes for a moment, the silence thick and full of unspoken understanding. Seulgi's voice softened. “You’re amazing.”
The intensity of the stare lingered for a heartbeat longer before Jaeyi broke it, offering a small, almost timid smile. The moment dissolved like steam, but the unspoken words hung in the air between them.
They finished their meal, and with the same quiet ease, resumed the small house tour. When they reached the bedroom, Seulgi spoke, her voice tentative.
“Jay-ah.”
Jaeyi glanced at her, her eyes soft at the adorable way in which Seulgi always pronounced her name.
“Mhmm?” But Seulgi didn’t respond, the weight of her thoughts pressing against her chest. “You’ll stay, right? For a bit.” After a long moment, Seulgi nodded. Jaeyi grinned, embedding her voice with an amused warmth. “That’s good, we can do sleepovers.”
“He’s still looking for you.” Seulgi’s voice faltered, just a little.
“My dad has always been relentless.” Jaeyi’s expression didn’t change, though there was a subtle edge to her voice.
Seulgi’s eyes searched Jaeyi’s face, the concern still in her chest.
“What will you do?”
Jaeyi shrugged, but there was a quiet determination in her posture.
“I hoped he ended up in jail but I suppose that’s not happening.” Jaeyi’s voice was steady, but there was a softness in her eyes as she caressed Seulgi’s cheek. “Seulgi-ah, don’t worry too much. You’ll wrinkle.”
With a light laugh, Jaeyi grabbed her pajamas from a chair by the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Seulgi, left alone in the quiet of the room, felt her mind begin to drift. She thought back to those rare, precious moments when they had shared an actual sleepover — back when things were simpler, or at least they seemed so. Back when Jaeyi had been a mystery, and Seulgi still didn’t fully understand what it meant to let someone in.
She remembered how Jaeyi had looked at her that night — eyes sharp, as if sizing her up, as if she were daring her to challenge something, to push boundaries as she undressed. And, for some reason, her mind wandered to the dream she had tried so hard to forget. At the time, it had felt as a premonition, or a reflection of something unresolved between them. Now, months later, nothing had been resolved, and there was still that brittle balance between them. It was a subtle yet unmistakable tension, stretching thin but remaining taut, holding their relationship at the edge of something that while once comfortable in the situation they were going through, now was beginning to frustrate her.
Shaking herself from the thought, Seulgi sighed, trying to quiet the questions in her mind. It was still strange, how much had changed, and how much hadn’t.