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When they reach Busan, it's not raining anymore.
Two adults travelling was too much! And what if they dropped their provincial ids on their way to the ship! They were still well-known!
They were, ultimately, too far away from the island to turn the entire ship and it's aggravated passengers back in the midst of a storm about to brew. They were, fortunately, too amusing to just get rid of.
Busan is more full of life than anything they've ever seen. It's like the market in Jeju they used to spend the entire day selling in— but this one spans the entirety of the sky above them, not an evening star in sight but the streetlights and smoke, pulsing with life perpetually like a fish out of water. She feels right at home.
Chanmi doesn't let go of her hand, claiming fear, claiming pity, for herself, for Seungwan. Seungwan herself doesn't want to call her out on it, for once.
"Yah, you used to sneak into my house in the middle of the night all the time by yourself."
She does, but it's the principle of it that matters. She does, because Chanmi's eyes have not met hers in the ten minutes they've set foot in Busan.
It's weird. Chanmi approaches the world with the caution and the hesitance of a child forced to grow up too early. Eyes filled to the brim with curiosity that barely ever spills over. That's why I got caught by you, eonnie, she would say, I should've been more careful. Seungwan would've slapped her for weaponizing honorifics in times of sincerity, and Chanmi would've skipped away laughing. You looked like you needed someone. Seungwan would laugh, because it's the same feeling she has when she sees Chanmi by herself. They're cut from the same resilient cloth, painted in the same colors that only shine under a willing ear and an attentive gaze. The sea that laps away relentlessly at the land, too coy to stay but too entitled to leave without taking anything away.
Chanmi has always approached the world like it's a cornered animal, and now she looks at the world so brightly her eyes rival the setting sun.
They make a pitstop in a small alleyway. The myriad of smells, the cacophony of noises, the spectrum of colors— the overwhelm doesn't release them from it's claws, but it loosens, for a little bit of respite, for a little bit of calm.
The bracelets go first— conspicuous, careless, childish. Seungwan slips into a pair of pants, runs her fingers through her hair. She tugs at the hairs falling just so on her nape. It's a length she's always been partial to, and she thanks the skies that she'd had the mind to chop it off just a couple of days earlier.
"Seungwan-ah, are you not going to help me?" Chanmi scoffs, but it's muffled. She's half-way into a bright red dress, head stuck on the inside.
"Why should I? It's your fault you have such a big head. You should've listened to me more growing up." Seungwan's rebuttal is half-hearted at best. When Chanmi's head finally emerges from the opening with Seungwan's help, her long hair pulled out with a curse or two, she's smiling serenely, the hair on the side of her face framing the corners of her lips.
"What? What are you smiling so much for?" Seungwan asks, eyes narrowed.
"I can't even smile because I'm simply happy?"
"No, you can't. Are you crazy?" Seungwan shudders. They take a look at their belongings, then make their way to walk through the streets, hand in hand. Chanmi's atrocious heels don't help a lot, and Seungwan spends the entirety of their walk staring at the top of her head. She's not skipping, but she's swinging their hands really high, and the passers-by wrinkle their nose at their shameless display, which incentivizes them to amp up the obnoxiousness that much more.
"You're so tactless, jagiya," Chanmi looks at her from underneath her eyelashes. They're pink, and her cheeks are painted red, and so are her lips, and Seungwan thinks Chanmi is more radiant under these flickering streetlights than anyone she's ever seen. "Do Jeju men not know of romance? I really should've just married a dog."
And spend the whole life afraid? Seungwan snorts to herself. Chanmi's ideal husband would have to share at least half of his similarities with Seungwan to make sure she lives a carefree life. Objectively speaking. She snorts to herself again, because no one so far has come close. Chanmi side-eyes her, and Seungwan lets out a laugh.
"You look like boiled lobster."
"What's lobster?" Chanmi doesn't take offence, looks at her with wide, confused eyes. Seungwan immediately looks away.
"It's shrimp but bigger. Like you."
"What? What does that even mean?" Chanmi laughs, slapping at her chest. Seungwan's eyes are trained on the sign boards and the stalls— eomuk, jingppang, haenyeo selling abalones, hotteok, grilled mackerel, INN.
"Anyways, did you find anywhere for us to stay?"
"Stay?"
"The night? Were you planning to sleep on the streets? Because in that case we could just turn ourselves in."
"I thought we were just taking a walk," Chanmi huffs, "Did you end up finding any place then, Mr. Resourceful?"
Seungwan nods. The sign board with an arrow pointed towards a narrow alley itself is old, looking like it's painted over multiple times with different colors until a sad brown took over, dulled by time and the sun. The letter work is janky, and it's hanging on one side. Chanmi fixes the sign board on their way in with the same, committed little smile she's taken to wearing, and Seungwan lets out a breath.
The owners are peculiar— A man hidden behind a wooden screen with a thick accent and a sweet cadence at odds with his business-like diction, an extremely tall and muscular man with a kind smile and razor-sharp canines offering to carry their luggage. The man, who Seungwan assumes manages the finances, speaks in a low drawl, sounding more and more confused the longer Seungwan speaks. Chanmi herself is putting in a valiant effort to not burst out laughing at Seungwan's deep voice, and the tall one keeps looking at each one of them like he's solving a puzzle.
"So.. you don't have money, you don't have any identification, you don't have any adult who could speak for you and..."
"We're adults!"
"Barely, it sounds like. Look, I usually wouldn't give two shits, but business isn't exactly booming, and I can't on my good conscience let more freeloaders stay and mooch off of me without getting anything in return. I hope you understand," the man says, and Seungwan sighs.
Chanmi immediately drops down onto the ground, opening one of the bags and fishing for something.
Seungwan knows what it is. Seungwan had given it to her— fourteen, stupid, emotional.
Her grandma's engagement ring.
To be frank— it was for safe-keeping. Chanmi's house wasn't bigger, but it was fuller. Her parents had a penchant for collecting-- trinkets lost to the throes of time finding a home that's warm and cares. Seungwan supposes she's one of those, too. Chanmi's lips were sealed shut, not out of respect for their friendship, but out of desperation. Out of a need for proving herself.
"Eyyy, really? The engagement ring? Really?"
"Someone seems like a jealous man," the tall guy giggles, "And I knew I recognized you kids! You're the runaway couple, aren't you? They're calling you the Jeju Romeo and Juliet. I'm Mingyu, nice to meet you!" he says, Seungwan applauds this man for arriving to the incorrect and advantageous conclusions twice with the speed of a sail fish.
"It's mine now," Chanmi shrugs, "You don't even need it anymore."
"Wah. Looks like you have to give her a new one, Seungwan-ssi. Women are so smart."
"Diamond ring this time, diamond," Chanmi singsongs, as she hands over the ring carefully to the awaiting hands emerging from the bird-sized hole in the wooden screen. "A real man would've done it at the earliest."
Seungwan shoots her a look, and Chanmi blows her a kiss, like the cheeky little thing she is. The man doesn't say anything for a long moment. Is it not real gold? Would we not get a place to stay? Did I seriously give Chanmi a ring made out of fake gold?
"First floor, room on the right. Keys," he hands them over, "Two days. After that you're out."
"2 days?--"
"--Sajang-nim."
"Sajang-nim! It's gold! It's real gold from the mines of.. wherever gold mines are. We should get a month!" Seungwan rages, but Chanmi is already dragging her away.
"Come on, yeobo," she says in a soothing voice, and its so ridiculous Seungwan laughs.
"You don't understand the concept of compromise, do you?" Chanmi admonishes, but her smile is omnipresent, and so is the fondness accompanying it. It's unnerving.
"And why should I? Why should I?" Seungwan's voice rises again, "What's wrong with knowing what I want and wanting what I deserve?"
"Nothing."
"You just gave up," Seungwan narrows her eyes, "Why are you so calm? You should be the angry one!"
"Oh, so now it belongs to me?" Chanmi shoots back, twisting open the handle to the door.
The room is offensively full of color, a sharp contrast to the exterior of their stay-- ostentatious patterned walls and floor painted in colors Seungwan isn't sure men like sajang-nim would comprehend, let alone appreciate. Her thoughts jump back to Mingyu, and then she looks at the room again. Chanmi keeps turning the light on and off-- Seungwan is blinded one moment by the sheer image of Chanmi looking right at home, and then plunged into the darkness of the room in another. Everything disappears from view and Chanmi's breath is still the loudest of all, her presence still the brightest.
"You did hang onto it pretty stubbornly all these years.." Seungwan mutters, turning on the fan. "Not that I expected you to lose it. You must've liked it a lot." Seungwan thought it was enough, growing up, for it to be gold. Diamond, though. Diamond doesn't sound bad, either.
"It was the first time you trusted me," Chanmi says. She's laying down a mattress, pink and golden, face turned away. It's a little shy, a little defensive. "It was a token of your trust! It was a confession of love! Of course I'd cherish it, Seungwan-ssi," she smiles.
Seungwan lets out a disbelieving laugh. "And a confession of love-- which is pushing it, by the way-- was that important?"
"It was," Chanmi says, now pulling her mattress closer to Seungwan's until they became effectively a singular unit, "It was. Seungwannie is the most precious person of my life, so it still is."
Seungwan's laugh turns into a cough, and she gives Chanmi a side-eye.
"Of course, if you put it like that, I'd feel bad," she pouts, "I'm also human, and Chanmi is precious to me too."
"That's it?"
"...The most precious." Seungwan sighs. Chanmi just nods with a satisfied smile and doesn't drop it, making sure their mattresses line up perfectly with the corner of the walls or whatever she absently does while feeling things up for their texture. They sit and eat naengmyeon, which Chanmi devours like she's never eaten in her life. It's on the house, and that's part of why it tastes so good, Seungwan thinks. Even with the weird insinuations and double entendres, Mingyu was a good host. They retire to their mattresses after a while of sitting quietly with their thoughts.
"No, can you please stop doing that with your face? It's really creepy." Seungwan brings it up again, giving in. Chanmi doesn't, and Seungwan whines in frustration.
"What's this? Why is the mood weird? Yah, Lee Chanmi!"
"I'm just.. happy?" Chanmi starts, not looking too sure.
Seungwan raises an eyebrow.
"And I've been... thinking..?"
"Aigo-yah."
"See, so I'm testing you, right?"
"Right.." Seungwan says, not getting it.
"I've always wanted to see what kind of a wife Seungwan would make..."
"..Alright.."
"And." Chanmi laughs, annoying Seungwan.
"And what."
"And nothing."
"..." Seungwan tries really really hard to not fall for the bait. She's not Seokmin-oppa. She's not Seokmin-oppa, who falls for the bait like a particularly gluttonous fish, and Seungwan is not Seokmin-oppa—
"I wouldn't do this to Seokmin-oppa. I'm not cruel."
"Really? Were you also not being cruel when you turned his offer to marriage down without a second thought?"
"Yes. I was being kind. Being married to me comes with you, and I don't think oppa would've been able to handle all that."
"I would take care of myself? What are you even talking about?" The further into the night, the more romantic Chanmi becomes. It used to be funny, and Seungwan would've teased her, some other day, under a much more familiar roof. "You never told me why you turned him down."
"It was a long time ago. Time has shrouded my memories in a dense fog I cannot get through."
"What," Seungwan laughs. Her hand slips through the blanket and creeps further and further until it finds Chanmi's, warm and solid, and she feels at peace.
"Seungwannie is so bold, huh," Chanmi says, snuggling closer until their kneecaps knock against each other.
"I'm glad," Seungwan whispers, turning to her side so she's facing Chanmi, "I'm glad it's you I'm with." Chanmi's smile softens. She thinks back to the entire day, and before that— when Chanmi laughed as they held hands and ran until their legs were about to fall off, when Chanmi cracked a stupid joke as Seungwan wanted to give up, when Chanmi dragged her onto the ship with a feigned confidence and a smile melting at the edges, when her trembling fingers gripped onto Seungwan's for dear life. Chanmi, at her core, was filial to a fault. The thought lodges itself in her throat at the most inconvenient of times. Chanmi left behind her family for a future so uncertain all because Seungwan had asked her to. It's not like they were a runaway couple— no matter what delusion Chanmi has been cooking up to enjoy herself. Seungwan cannot promise her a husband, a stable income, a comfortable home, a respectable reputation. She only has the money she's going to earn in the future, and it wouldn't be enough. It could have meant something, once. When the ring, the yelling, the abalones, the tangerines started getting old. Now all she has is herself. She's not sure if it would be enough.
She gives Chanmi about a day for the regret to settle in.
"It must've been hard with the red beans, huh," Chanmi whispers, yawning. "You must've suffered a lot."
"Tell me about it," Seungwan mutters, holding onto Chanmi's hand.
("Our brat and the Boo kid have been acting weirdly lately."
There's an exasperated sigh, followed by, "Eomonim! They're kids! Let the kids have fun!"
"You call this fun? Them wanting to marry each other?"
"I used to say that about Jieunie all the time. Let them be."
"And that's why you listen to that woman more than you listen to my son. Your husband." There's a sigh. "I've seen things like this... It can't happen. It's about time for Chanmi to get married. I'll find someone worthy."
"Eomonim!" the voice rings out, sounding frustrated, "Let Chanmi finish school, at least! She wants to be a writer, you see. A poet. Her ssaem praises her every time I visit!"
"She can be a wife and a poet at the same time," halmeoni's voice rings with a finality that settles like dread in Seungwan's bones. "The Lee women have always been multi-taskers. I'll find you a respectable son-in-law. I've heard they're looking for a wife for our Dohoonie."
Chanmi's eomonim doesn't say anything after that, ultimately.
Seungwan herself dashes to the school, dripping clothes lying on the ground in a pile, forgotten.
"Yah, Lee Chanmi, how much do you love me?" between exhausted pants, had been the words that greeted Chanmi. Seungwan herself is greeted with a steadying hand, a bottle of water, and a smile. It had been enough.)
"Busan sure is nice, huh," Chanmi whispers into the space between them. "Gotta. Go to the broker as soon as we wake up tomorrow. Mingyu-ssi said he'll show us around.."
"Idiot. Just get some sleep," Seungwan mutters.
"But I can't fall asleeep..." Chanmi whines, "And I know Seungwannie can't either." She nestles closer and closer until they're a mess of tangled limbs, Chanmi's nose poking Seungwan's neck and Seungwan's arm around her shoulder. Chanmi is all warm and soft edges, her breath tickling Seungwan's collarbones. Eonnie likes skinship, doesn't she?
It's that reminder, that ultimately breaks Seungwan. Chanmi squeezes her waist, without looking at her, because Seungwan hates being looked at in times of vulnerability. The thought makes her sniffle.
"Jagiya," she sniffs, letting the tears fall, "Idiot. You're a big idiot. You can just go to sleep." Chanmi lets out an exhale sounding suspiciously similar to a laugh, and Seungwan hits her shoulder. "I love you."
"Eonnie," Chanmi starts, not looking at her. "Eonnie. Why did you ask me to come with you?"
"Why didn't you say no?" Seungwan evades.
"What do you mean— you were being hurt! Because of me!" She sounds guiltier than ever, which angers Seungwan.
"It's about you, then?" the words sound stilted even to her own ears. Chanmi emerges from underneath the blanket, looking offended, and Seungwan speaks before Chanmi opens her mouth.
"Look. I just. I asked you to come with me because I couldn't do it alone," she starts, hoping it would be enough to appease her, "I needed you with me, or I would've been thrown overboard before I could swear on the Dragon king. But that doesn't mean you have to keep carrying my burdens yourself. You can stop with the... smile."
Chanmi only looks slightly mollified. "Can you stop. I was being brave on the ship because I needed to be. And now I'm smiling because I'm happy with Seungwan-eonnie. Promise me you'll stop telling me what not to do. It feels like you're trying to overtake halmeoni in coddling me. I'm only a little younger. Stop treating me like a child."
"Yeah," Seungwan says absently, "I promise." Chanmi's looking at her like she's cracked a joke, and Seungwan smiles.
"So my Chanmi was happy because of me huh," Seungwan teases, "You were so happy you couldn't stop smiling, yeah?"
Seungwan expects a laugh, an exasperated sigh. A curse, if Chanmi was up to being playful, a hit on the shoulder.
What finds her is a tentative smile, the sun breaking through the storm. It's accompanied by a shy nod.
"I was. It's.. eonnie, back at home, we were always being watched whenever we were together. You were called names and when you defended yourself you were just called more names. It was the same with me. It felt like walking on jagged rocks, sometimes.. just.. the want. I felt greedy. Here, it's like nobody cares? I can be with eonnie as much as I want and I can hold your hand and kiss your cheek and nobody would scold me. I know it's not forever, but I can still cherish what's in front me for as long as I have it, can't I?"
Seungwan is frozen to her spot, her mouth dry. Chanmi takes it as an invitation and continues.
"Sometimes.." she pauses, gulping, "Sometimes, I used to wish I was a boy, so I could marry Seungwannie. Kept rejecting me all the time," another pause, "Although, I'd also marry eonnie now if she let me.." she laughs at herself for that, the sound only a little shaky. "Because I still like her so much."
Seungwan doesn't say anything, for a long time. Chanmi waits, for a dreadful few seconds. Then she bids Seungwan a good night, voice muted, and pulls the blanket over herself. She's facing the wall, now.
"When I look at you, envision a future for you— listen— dream about your future? Is that okay, princess? When I dream about your future, I see you doing all these things, going to all these places..."
"Hm."
"...And I didn't see myself fit in anywhere in that picture. If I was there, I'd just be the one anchoring you to the sea and the Dragon king. And I didn't see the point in that."
Chanmi huffs. "So what? What? You were being kind? By letting go of me first? Do you feel like a saint?"
"I'm trying to have an honest conversation—"
"Why are you making it about yourself? It hurt the both of us. It hurt me, every time you broke my heart and pushed me away like I meant nothing."
"Then why did you keep coming back?" Seungwan yells. Chanmi, five, running to Seungwan after scraping her knee. Chanmi, ten, crying to Seungwan because a boy in her class had been bullying her for her accent. Chanmi, fifteen, shouting at Seungwan, because the boy she had confessed to had run away because of Seungwan. It had made her feel needed, in the beginning. She had taken, and taken, and taken. "I never asked you to!"
"Because I knew you and your stupid big heart had cooked up some idea about why you shouldn't be with me! I knew you were hurting too. I thought... you'd come around. When I held your hand as you cried for your mom, when I stayed up all night helping you with your housework as you studied, when we laid under the stars and you held my hand and told me everything would be okay because if it happened to you, it would happen to me. And I believed you. You know why?" Chanmi shouts. "Because you were with me. You were, and that was all I wanted. It's still all I ever want."
"So what? What now?" Seungwan rubs her face with both her hands, feeling tired. It feels like she's holding the entire sky upright when she stops herself from reciprocating Chanmi's words. "What will we do now? Now that you have me all for yourself?"
Chanmi looks about two seconds from leaving the room, but she composes herself.
"I'll work in the factory, I guess," she says, but her eyes betray her conviction. "And you can do calligraphy. Your mom wanted you to, didn't she?"
Seungwan holds herself back from flipping out in her face. Chanmi's hands are soft. Not like Seungwan's, but warm and steady, ready to hold onto. Little moles dotted on her face like kisses, an easy smile that's hard to wipe off. It's a wonder how she managed to remain so.. delicate for so long. Seungwan had tried her best, growing up. Chanmi looked the epitome of all the prettier things in life she hadn't allowed herself to look at, and she didn't want her involving herself with matters concerning Seungwan. The scent of the sea is hard to get rid of, and it paints it's victims in shades of jade and cynicism that cling to their marrow. Chanmi did manage to penetrate the barrier Seungwan had so carefully constructed, heart between her teeth. Chanmi wore her heart on her sleeve, and Seungwan selfishly indulged in it, wishing for them to never grow up, wishing for the nights to never pass. Another summer, another storm, another season closer to the shoe just waiting to drop. Miracles don't happen to people like Seungwan. Miracles don't stay for long, and miracles don't volunteer to stay and hold up a pipe dream from their side to the best of their abilities without losing something in the process, without giving themselves away. Selfish, Seungwan thinks, she's being selfish, once again. She wants Chanmi to be the poet, she wants to see Chanmi's name in the newspaper, eyes crinkled and smile blinding. Not to be held back by the shackles of their relationship. A woman is only worth something with a man by her side, she'd heard, countless of times. The words were met by a derisive scoff, a curse. Now, looking at Chanmi...
"You will not be working at the factory. You just finished school," Seungwan's tone brokers no arguments. "Find a writing job. Busan is big, I'm sure you'll find someone."
"Oh really? And what will we eat when we both get paid in peanuts? Busan is big, but it's expensive."
Seungwan thinks back to Chanmi's halmeoni, trying to set her up with Kang Dohoon. Son of a fishing chief, strict and traditional and so, so dull. A woman is only worth something with a man by her side.
"I'll find.. a man." Boo Seungwan, famously known for her utter lack of interest towards men. She's lucky that she's a better liar than Chanmi, who's gaping at her with a frenzied look in her eyes. "To— marry."
"You will find a man to marry," Chanmi repeats, each word sounding more and more disbelieving. There must be something about the look in Seungwan's eyes, because she's curling in on herself, shoulders slumping, a puppet with her strings cut.
"It's about time, don't you think?" she says, with a placid smile. "Aunt has been dying to get me married to someone, and I've only said no because the men there were so close-minded." Jeon Wonwoo had not been. Jeon Wonwoo, who had offered to buy Seungwan a boat of her own if she had said yes. Who believed that women's mere presence bought fortune. Even Choi Seungcheol, posterchild of masculinity, had been sweeter than anyone to Chanmi while rejecting her. "Busan is big. I'll find someone with similar ideals to mine, I'm sure."
The thought of anybody by her side that is not Chanmi makes her gag. The only saving grace, from her own conscience, from the sheer accusation and hurt in Chanmi's eyes, is the thought that Chanmi would've done the same, if it had been her in Seungwan's place. Chanmi would've been caught much much earlier, but would've stood her ground with a kind of steadiness only an eldest daughter would've been able to have. She might have even said yes to Jeon Wonwoo, and that thought makes her irrationally angry.
"Right. You will," Chanmi's voice shakes. Like hell she will, but she lets out a relieved sigh nonetheless.
She'll weather through a couple of weeks of barbed words trained to cut with a sort of precision only somebody that knows you inside out can master, a few months of radio silence. It's nothing they haven't already gone through before. It's why she doesn't expect the sheer magnitude of hurt she'd inflicted on Chanmi to be returned to her with the swiftness of a shark and the power of an axe.
Chanmi is missing the next morning. It leaves Seungwan disgruntled, but she cannot reach out with the same hands that pushed her away last night this soon. Seungwan will find an employer, Chanmi will get over her delusion regarding their relationship and eventually accept the monetary aid Seungwan gives her because she'll feel guilty otherwise. Chanmi will find out the real reason behind their escape, and listen to Seungwan once again. Chanmi will become a household name, and Chanmi will become their hometown's miracle and not just Seungwan's, and Seungwan will become the deputy chief and then the chief and then they'll live, apart, but happily all the same. It's that thought of a seemingly near future that powers her to get up and get dressed to head down.
It's where she spots a small-statured man with arms the size of Seungwan's face. He looks rather sweet, and something about the man is so familiar despite having never met before, and Seungwan feels weirdly at ease.
"Sajang-nim?"
"I'm his brother, Jihoon. Nice to meet you," he says, and Seungwan nods. The same musical timbre in his voice.
"Did you happen to see.. a small young woman of my age around here? Busan is unfamiliar to us, and I'm worried she might have gotten lost."
Jihoon nods. "No worries, Mingyu accompanied her. He'll keep her safe."
Seungwan wrinkles her nose. "It's not that I don't trust him, but I'd much rather be the one with her than a stranger."
"Possessive, aren't you?" Jihoon laughs, and Seungwan laughs along, embarrassed. "We really thought it was going to be another case of a doomed marriage.. what with all the shouting last night. But you made up pretty quick, huh. Good for you. Speaks a lot about your character, when a woman chooses to stay with you despite all that."
"And Jihoon-ssi knows about this because...?" she insinuates, playful. She likes his presence, casual and uncomplicated. He doesn't ask about why she's a she, and Seungwan doesn't ask where sajang-nim is.
Jihoon raises an eyebrow at her. "I've got nothing going on, I'm afraid. It's just me and Mingyu. We were pen pals, and then that idiot moved from Seoul to here because I accidentally told him my lodging was under debt. All set for military, too. Now he's obsessing over wallpaper patterns and rising paint prices."
"Are you happy, then?"
Jihoon pauses, contemplating on the answer. "I don't know why he's chosen to stay with me. At my worst, I'm filled with guilt. He's.. bigger than life, sometimes. Destined for much, much greater things. At my best, when I'm with him, I'm glad he made the choice, because I don't think I would've been able to do this alone. I mean, I would've, but I wouldn't have been half as happy. I'm grateful to him."
"Wah.." Seungwan says. It makes something in her pause. "You're charming with your words, aren't you, Jihoon-ssi? I'm sure Mingyu-ssi is very happy."
"If anything, he should just leave. I still don't know what he gets out of staying with me. Is it the peace? The money?" Jihoon deflects, ears reddening. Seungwan laughs, because she can see, very clearly, how much Mingyu means to him, in all the unsaid words. The same regret they share settles like a comforting weight in her stomach. Could this be them too? she wonders. Could they set everything aside to carve a space just for the two of them? Seungwan knows, that the answer isn't yes, but it's a thought that holds weight, one that she wants to ask Chanmi, if she sees her soon.
There's a clearing of a throat, and Seungwan and Jihoon's necks snap up from where they're sitting beside each other. Her smile drops immediately when she looks at Mingyu and Chanmi, their hands holding each other's in a death grip. It's the same way Chanmi had held on Seungwan's, just yesterday.
"We uh.." Mingyu's voice cracks, and he grimaces.
"—really like each other," Chanmi continues, shooting Mingyu a look.
"And— uh. Jihoon-hyung always said I needed to put a ring on someone so I could leave his ass alone and.."
"And? And what? You're going to marry her? Is that it?" Seungwan raises from her seat, launching at Mingyu, before Chanmi steps in front of Mingyu with outstretched arms.
"Seungwan-ssi. Listen to me for once," she grits out, and there it goes, all her anger bursting out. "I know halmeoni has been looking for someone to marry me for weeks. I don't want that for me," she sighs. "I wanted— it doesn't matter anymore, does it? Anyways— I've spoken to Mingyu-ssi, he is a very polite and respectable man. Someone I could see myself loving, in the future. I don't want my life to be dictated by someone that is not me, okay?" she says.
Seungwan nods mutely.
"Here's what we are going to do— Mingyu-ssi promised to come with me, and we'll all go back to Jeju, and I tell them I ran away because I loved Mingyu-ssi. They'll have to get us married, no matter what. Dohoon will go fuck himself, and Mingyu-ssi will help me with my further studies."
"Hah," Seungwan says, dropping her fists down. Her head hangs low, unable to look at the sharpness of Chanmi's eyes any longer. "Jihoon-ssi, ask Mingyu-ssi if he's okay with this? Being strung along?" Seungwan says, because Jihoon hasn't said a word, until now.
"You really want to do this, huh," Jihoon says, looking at Mingyu, and it doesn't sound like a question. He looks lost, and Seungwan looks at Mingyu.
"I.. hyung—" he looks at Seungwan for a second, before returning his gaze to Jihoon's, "—I understand what Chanmi's going through, and I said I'd help her. I can't go back on my word, now, can I? It's not like I can keep living like this forever, either."
"I see."
Seungwan waits for more, but no more words escape his mouth.
Seungwan herself cries. Chanmi makes a sudden movement, like she's about to come envelope her shoulders in a hug, but she doesn't. She stays there, eyes filled with tears but never any falling. Even when Mingyu moves towards Jihoon to whisper words that Jihoon either does not comprehend or care for, even when Mingyu hugs Jihoon with the force of a typhoon, Chanmi just stands, watching Seungwan cry.
That evening, they go back to Jeju.
Summer flies by, warm and golden, like a newly-wed bride. The days slip between their fingers like sunlight through water, etching into their hearts in beautiful calligraphy for years to come.
Months of radio silence later, it's spring, and Chanmi, dressed in all white, cruelly requests for her company under the shade of a persimmon tree while the clock is ticking by. Seungwan is supposed to oversee the wedding— the chief is too "busy" with matters of politics and the deputy chief is, ultimately, a woman, warm-heartedness is supposed to be in her nature.
"Eonnie," tears fall into her lap like the unforgiving rain, "Eonnie. Please. Don't leave me, please."
Seungwan has never seen Chanmi cry like this before. Her makeup runs down her cheeks, eyes bloodshot. She sighs, running a hand through Chanmi's hair. The elaborate up-do Chanmi had always wanted had come undone, and Seungwan makes a helpless noise, smiling. She's had enough time to ruminate.
"Aish, you big baby. What will you do without your Seungwannie, huh?" she teases, and Chanmi sits upright, ready to snap at her, before she sees the look on Seungwan's face. She pouts, settling back into Seungwan's lap aggressively, and Seungwan laughs, tickling her neck.
"And what will Seungwannie do without her baby? Be lonely and loveless forever?"
"Yah," she pinches Chanmi's neck, and she yelps. "I don't like Kim Mingyu. He's too nice, but those are the kind of guys that are always hiding something."
"And you're still letting me marry him."
Seungwan shrugs. Better him if she can't. The thought used to make her unbearably bitter. But life goes on, regardless of whether you're on board. "Make sure you don't lift a finger for the rest of your life."
The next few moments are spent like this: Seungwan, penning a letter to Lee Jihoon, conveniently busy for his best friend's wedding, that starts a little like— I heard the hospitality industry is faring better in Seoul than in Busan, Jihoon-ah. What do you think about a new business venture? Chanmi, throwing away hints about Mingyu liking Seoul, the both of them, giggling over some stupid joke Chanmi made, because Mingyu shares her penchant for them, and surely, Jihoon's mood would be lightened then, wouldn't it?
"Won't even let me be the chief. I'm destined to this surname, aren't I?"
"Yah, Lee Chanmi! Get your ass here! It's your wedding, dammit!" is the shout that breaks them from their bubble.
"Eonnie," Chanmi smiles at her. Seungwan tries wiping her face, opening her mouth to call her ugly, when Chanmi drags her face and kisses her roughly. It lasts for only a few seconds, where Chanmi holds onto Seungwan's neck like she'll run away.
"For good luck," she says, rubbing at her mouth, grinning at Seungwan while panting.
She had seen it coming.
She had seen it coming, but still, it's that little moment, when Seungwan finally admits to herself. That the sinking feeling she's been experiencing, the helplessness that had invaded her blood and settled in there like stars in the sky, had been heart break all along.
She still drags Chanmi's hand and places a diamond ring in her palm. After all, it's only right for her to uphold at least this one promise, isn't it?