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1.
They’re in the middle of an interview, sitting on a comfy leather couch, shoulder to shoulder. Byulyi doesn’t even realize when she does it. Wheein’s shoulder and thigh brush hers. Byulyi animatedly answers a question, and unconsciously her hand bumps into Wheein’s. She pulls it into her lap and threads their fingers together. Wheein’s hands are always the softest. It takes Byulyi a belated moment to realize that the interviewer is staring at them.
“You two must be really close,” he says.
Wheein giggles.
2.
Wheein droops over a bowl of fruit, alternating between eyes drifting shut and jerking awake. Her face is puffy from weariness, hair messily falling over her forehead. She’s so cute Byulyi can’t stop smiling.
“Why does it have to be so early?” Wheein whines, holding her head up with a hand pressed to her cheek.
“Quit complaining,” Hyejin mumbles, equally drowsy.
“But you get so much done when you’re up bright and early.” Yongsun cheerfully places two mugs of tea in front of them.
“How are you so energetic? Are you even human?”
Byulyi comes up behind Wheein and kneads her shoulders thoroughly, digging her thumbs into the muscle. Wheein’s head falls back, a sigh of pleasure escaping her lips. Byulyi digs a little harder, dragging her fingers along the back of Wheein’s neck.
“Mm, that feels good.”
“Hey, how come I never get a massage?” Hyejin exclaims.
“Because Byulyi’s only soft for Wheein,” Yongsun answers.
Wheein laughs. “Don’t be jealous.”
3.
Byulyi leans into the tantalizing smell of sizzling meat on their table’s center grill with a watering mouth. Yongsun flips the thin strips of beef over to cook them properly. Wheein bounces in her seat on the ground impatiently. The low hum of conversation from the other restaurant’s patrons gathers around them comfortably. Hyejin scrolls through her phone with her chin in hand, looking bored.
“Come on, they’re pretty much cooked, right?” Wheein says, bouncing quicker.
“Sit still and wait,” Yongsun answers.
Wheein makes some kind of weird, high-pitched noise of complaint that sends them all into a fit of giggles. The family sitting at the table behind them glares. Byulyi reaches out and rests a hand on Wheein’s thigh, bare in her little shorts.
“Stop moving so much, you’re making me nervous,” Byulyi says.
Wheein stills, but Byulyi doesn’t move her hand. Wheein’s thigh is a comforting warmth against her hand. She curls her fingers to feel the soft skin against them.
“I’m taking one, it’s cooked enough.” Hyejin snatches up a strip of beef with her chopsticks and deftly wraps it in lettuce, gracefully shoving the wrap into her mouth.
Byulyi reaches out to do the same. She uses her left hand because the right still rests on Wheein’s leg. Wheein glances at Byulyi, then at her hand. She looks away, a secret smile playing on her lips.
4.
Fan meetings make Byulyi nervous. She’s not always sure how to act, or how to be as funny and energetic as the others. Yongsun always assures her she does well and the fans love her, but Byulyi can never quite shake the uncertainty. Wheein is the opposite. Impending fan meetings make her bounce off the walls with no hint of worry.
Objectively, Byulyi knows everything is going all right, but her stomach churns as she stands on stage with the other girls, making funny faces and joking into the microphone. Yongsun and Hyejin act out some silly skit while Wheein stands beside them with a sassy running commentary. Byulyi doesn’t know what to do. So she seeks comfort in Wheein instead. She comes up behind her and wraps her arm around Wheein’s waist, resting her chin on her shoulder. Wheein’s hair tickles Byulyi’s cheek.
The crowd roars, and Wheein makes a comically surprised face. “Ooooo,” she says, the sound echoing through her microphone.
The fans cheer. Someone from the back shouts, “Moonbyul loves Wheein!”
“Everybody,” Wheein says. “Byul unnie is always like this at home. She comes to us for cuddles all the time.”
They go wild at that, shouting various things Byulyi doesn’t catch. “Hey,” Byulyi laughs. “Speak for yourself.”
Yongsun and Hyejin chime in with their own anecdotes, but Byulyi isn’t listening. Wheein leans back into her, a warm weight, and Byulyi tightens her hold. She doesn’t feel so nervous anymore.
5.
A particularly loud crash of thunder jerks Byulyi awake. She rubs her eyes, an ache starting in her temple from the sudden awakening. As she tugs her covers closer around her, she realizes someone’s standing at the foot of her bed. Byulyi is approximately .02 seconds away from screaming her head off when a flash of lightning reveals a tear-stricken Wheein, squeezing her pillow to her chest.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I had a nightmare.” Wheein’s voice wobbles.
“Come here.”
Byulyi lifts her covers so Wheein can crawl under and curl up into a little ball. “Sorry for waking you up.”
“You didn’t wake me up.”
She tugs Wheein closer, wrapping one arm around her waist and stroking her shoulder with the other. Wheein fits against the curves of Byulyi’s body like she was made to be there. Byulyi can feel Wheein’s heart beating through her back—or maybe that’s her own heartbeat, a frantic pitter-patter. Wheein’s hair, brushing against Byulyi’s nose, smells like her favorite strawberry shampoo. Wheein rests her hands on top of Byulyi’s arm, holding it against her. At another roar of thunder, Wheein shrinks closer.
“It’s all right,” Byulyi murmurs, burying her face in Wheein’s soft hair. “I’m here.”
+1.
Byulyi scribbles lyrics for a new rap into her worn journal, tearing at the seams. Her hands can’t move fast enough to keep up with her thoughts. Every now and then, she pauses to read what she has aloud. Absorbed in her work, she doesn’t notice Wheein enter the room until she stops right behind her, leaning down to peek over her shoulder. Her hair falls onto Byulyi’s shoulder.
“Lyrics?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s almost time for dinner. Come take a break.”
“Can’t. Gotta write this down.”
“You can come back to it.” Wheein’s gentle voice is difficult to deny.
“Can’t.”
Wheein hovers over her for another minute. Byulyi starts to forget she’s even there. Then Wheein turns and presses her smooth lips to Byulyi’s cheek in a sweet kiss. Freezing, Byulyi fumbles the pen between her fingers, a shiver running down her spine.
“Come on,” Wheein says. She giggles and runs off.
Byulyi puts her journal down and runs her fingers over her cheek, light and awed.