Archive of Our Own ^beta

Shin Ryujin’s heart isn’t beating.

It was a long time coming, according to the doctors. After fainting in the middle of a math class, she had been answered with an ‘unexplained heart condition’, a bandaid hastily pasted over the gaping emptiness in her chest. Any more questions were always fruitless. It was always: they knew what would happen, but not why it happened. 

But to put it bluntly: her heart was slowing down. It would stop in a few years, leaving her life in the hands of an unlikely miracle. Most with her case wouldn’t survive more than a meagre five years, and it was so unreported that experts haven’t even been able to discuss trying to find a cure. The side effects of the mysterious disease? A gloomy sort of blandness in her days, pitying looks from the nurses, and family that cared too much about their image to care for her.

It didn’t help that her family was well off and well known. They’d sent her to boarding school as soon as she could, transferred her to the year above her because she was ‘bright for her age’, and there she stayed, an afterthought to the empire they were building. She was supposed to be their heiress, but after her ‘diagnosis’, it became clear that she wouldn’t be able to fill those shoes. No one wanted a daughter with this terrifying, unknown heart disease that could make her drop dead at any moment. Calls from her parents dwindled, requests to go back home for breaks outright stopped, and if she was someone who just saw her parents on TV, she’d think they didn’t have a child to begin with. 

When her heart stopped, it wasn’t sudden. It was like a car cruising, decreasing speed gradually, and eventually braking entirely. The beats had been further and further apart, her heart rate lower and lower, until it eventually just… stopped. 

There was nothing dramatic about it; Ryujin had just known that it was the last beat. The last time she would be scientifically alive. She’d waited to feel light-headed, bracing herself for death, but it never came. The only thing that settled over her was silence, the kind of heavy acceptance that you were too drained to address.

She had waited a few more days to tell her parents, after which she was rushed to a hospital. By then, her skin had paled, and her limbs felt heavier than usual, a sort of cloudy indifference settling over her thoughts.

“Other than your heart rate, all your vitals are… stable.” The doctor had said, looking at his chart, then her, and back at the charts again, as if she was a dead girl walking. She’d merely sat, indifferent, as her mother fired the same rounds of questions at the doctor, mere indignation that didn’t aim for a solution. It was the same spiel. Why was she like this? Why was the heiress of one of Korea’s largest accounting firms stuck with an anomaly no one knew about? Was there really nothing they could do about it to make her more normal?

Ryujin hadn’t felt much about how her parents reacted, but she’d been a little more worried to tell Yeji. Yeji, who made boarding school marginally bearable. Yeji, who she sat with in classes and worked with in projects and danced with in showcases. Yeji, who knew about everything because it was too hard for Ryujin to hide it from someone she was with 24/7. Yeji would have known, like she had, but when she finally told her that her heart stopped, the older had looked at her like her own heart had ceased to function.

“What?” She’d dropped the hairbrush she was using, crossed the room in a few steps, and sat down next to Ryujin, voice hushed. “Your heart isn’t beating?”

It was a little amusing, how one side of her hair was obviously knotted and the other was brushed out, but Ryujin saw the way her eyes flicked up and down, before Yeji looked back at her, as if she would disappear, and decided to hold off on the teasing for now.

“It’s stopped.” She’d grabbed her wrist and placed it on her chest, right where her useless heart was. Yeji’s hand was warm, even through the shirt she was wearing. “But I’m still here.”

The room fell silent, as if it was waiting for Yeji to feel something beneath her hand and Ryujin to will the muscle back to life again. 

“Did they say… how?”

And beyond that, there was another question Ryujin knew Yeji wouldn’t ask. 

Are you going to die?  

“They don’t know.” 

More accurately, they’d told her she shouldn’t even be here. She was already one of the ‘lucky’ ones, a dead girl walking in the land of the living, blending in perfectly except for what was supposed to pump life through her veins.

Yeji hadn’t pushed, after that, but the shock wore off into a profound sort of sadness, one that Ryujin couldn’t bring herself to look at. It was a bruising shame, always being the one bearing bad news. She’d thought about keeping it to herself, but the thought of Yeji finding out because something had happened was even worse than having to break it to her.

“I just wanted to let you know,” she had said softly, eyes on the ground. Even then, she’d felt undeserving of the warmth in the older’s eyes. Yeji was always like sunshine, bringing light to everyone she met. There was not a single person whose day she wouldn’t brighten. Even hers.

To say her life was bland was an understatement. The world always seemed too simple to be true. She could see what was coming miles before it did, and knew exactly what to respond with. There was nothing to be surprised about, nothing to look forward to which she didn’t already know, and it was always the same rinse and repeat of the days.

But Yeji seemed determined to change that, even after her ‘diagnosis’. They’re already on the dance team, but she drags her out for sports more often, occasionally throws in karaoke sessions with her favourite songs and horror movies, or whatever else she could think of that day. After the first few times, she’d wanted to tell her not to, but came to accept that it’s just how Yeji is. Infectiously positive, endlessly persistent and always so caring. So Ryujin does as she says. Not really to humour her, but taking the excuse to spend more time with her. 

One particular day, Yeji borrows two rackets from a friend and drags her out for a game of tennis one day, and they spend the morning hitting tennis balls up and down a court. It’s been a long time since she’s played, and Ryujin can’t help it, rips a few shots with topspin from time to time, sending Yeji flying across the court to chase after the ball. Yeji tries doing the same, isn’t actually that bad at the rallying, but loses to her more times than not nonetheless. 

It’s more exercise than she’s had in ages (Yeji went through a horror movie phase with her before circling back to sports. She hopes she can get a night of sleep again.), but even as she runs for the ball as best as she can, the only sign of exertion is the slight ache in her muscles, dissipating after a while. 

“You’re a beast,” Yeji pants as they pick up the last of the tennis balls. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re so good at tennis?”

“You never asked,” Ryujin shakes her head in amusement as Yeji takes a big gulp of water.

“Anything?” her voice goes a little bit lower when she asks, like it always does. Ryujin’s lost count of how many times they’ve gone through this exact charade, heard this question in this exact form with no good news.

Again, she shakes her head regretfully. “Not a peep.”

“We can cross that off the list, then.” Yeji gives her a small smile. “Better luck next time?”

Ryujin shrugs. 

“You keep trying, unnie,” she remarks. “If I didn’t know better, I would have thought it was your own heart you were trying to manually kickstart.”

She means it light-heartedly, but it lands a little wrong. Yeji frowns, a hesitation on her expression that’s hard to come by.

“Does it bother you?”

Ryujin shakes her head. 

“I just can’t help thinking that maybe,” she takes her water bottle and drinks from it. “I don’t know. I don’t want to waste your time like this.”

“I’m trying to help, Ryujin-ah. I’m not wasting my time,” Yeji replies, gaze unusually steely. 

Ryujin shrugs, doesn’t want to say something that would make it worse. There’s a moment of unusually tense silence before Yeji speaks again, hesitant.

“Wouldn’t it be nice, though? To have your heart beat again?”

Ryujin looks at her. Yeji’s expression is a little complicated, in a way she can’t read.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“You’d be here,” Yeji says quietly.

“I’m here all the same, though.”

When Yeji speaks next, her tone is hushed, almost apologetic, but the words hit her like a punch, because she says it like she believes it entirely. 

“Well, yes, but you wouldn’t be the shell of a person you are now,”

The statement lags in her brain for a moment. She’s silent for a beat too long, and Yeji’s eyes go wide, as if she just realised what she said.

“Wait, Jinnie, no-” the older cuts herself off, looking at her face, and she doesn’t know how to react. There’s no way that just happened, but it’s right there, the moment circled with a red marker marked with glaring arrows.

Absurdly, it makes her want to laugh, because did she really think she could have all this without something being taken in return?

Yeji knows everything . How she hates being treated like a petrified animal by the hospital staff, because it makes her feel like a number, instead of a person. How she would rather people think she’s cold and mean than know of her condition because it means they won’t have to look at her like she’s already on her deathbed. How she knows her parents see her as nothing but an asset turned liability, although they try to hide it. 

And yet.

Ryujin never thought she would see her like everyone else did, too. Not as a friend, but just a girl whose life stood still when it barely started. 

“You’re just like the rest of them,”

Her thought makes it out of her mouth before she can stop it. She waits for the spark of anger to come, like it usually does. Sharp and flaring, making her chest hurt with the strain it puts on her already weak heart. 

It doesn’t come. Instead, she’s just- tired . Not because of the lack of pulse. It feels like there’s a deadweight of dread pressing against her ribs, making it hard to breathe, and Ryujin has never hated her stupid heart more than she does at this moment, because it won’t even hurt when it’s supposed to. 

Yeji’s still standing in front of her, mouth slightly parted like she’s going to argue, but Ryujin doesn’t give her the chance to. She picks up her bag and racket, and walks away. The space in her chest isn’t actually empty, but there’s a phantom ache there all the same.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Her world shifts. A silent cracking of life as she knows it beneath her feet.

She doesn’t expect seeing Yeji later that night to feel like a storm taking over her chest, the rumble of thunder filling in for her heartbeat. The older just stares at her, like she’s trying to predict her next move, and something about the deliberate nature of it all, Yeji treating her like glass, makes another part of her cave. Needless to say, she doesn’t sleep very well that night.

Her heart is as quiet as ever, only she feels the loss now. Every shadow of a beat that’s supposed to exist, every second that passes without a sign of life. It’s a ghost of an ache that can’t be soothed, because she read everything wrong . All the easy smiles that reached Yeji’s eyes, all the nights where Yeji snuck into her bed just to talk until morning. All the hopes that she could just be normal , with Yeji, and not the girl who’s about to die.

It’s worse when it won’t even hurt, but really, maybe she should have known that the emptiness would come. First it took her heartbeat, the warmth that comes from life. Maybe it’ll take her emotions next, until she really did wither away into a shell of a person, as Yeji had so easily put it. 

The next morning, when she walks into the classroom alone, Yeji is already at her usual seat. If it were a normal day, she would walk over, put her bag on the hook, and plop down next to her, but it feels anything but normal. The thought of sitting next to Yeji for the next hour or so sounds less than welcoming.

She looks at the empty seat, then at one of the spots at the front where no one dares to take, and makes her decision, sitting down alone.

The pattern repeats for the rest of the day; she picks either the front, where she can’t see anyone but the teacher, or at the back, where no one would notice her. It’s odd not hearing the scratch of Yeji’s pencil when she takes notes or her murmuring as she repeats what the teacher says under her breath, but it’s better than the inevitable silence between them. 

And maybe it’s the worst of all, the silence. She’s not acquainted to silence with Yeji. She’s used to chirpily told stories, excited remarks about small new discoveries, half-hearted complaints about their massive schoolwork load. Even when absorbed in their own thoughts, the silence between them was always in equilibrium, never uncomfortable, never hanging. Until now.

There’s nothing to describe it other than suffocating . Tension existing quietly, in a palpable way. Words in the air practically tangible, but never acknowledged. She can feel Yeji’s gaze on her when they’re in the dorm. Eyes evaluating whether to say anything, a touch of uncertainty, like she’s holding back words because she doesn’t know where to start. It’s like a chess game in a stalemate. No moves left; both trying to come to terms with how it had come to it. 

So she adjusts. Reduces her time spent at the dorm when Yeji’s awake and present. In when Yeji’s already asleep. Out before she’s awake. Back for a while when she knows Yeji’s in class. The rest of her time, she spends in the library or a small corner she found between the stairs and one of the classrooms, where she can be completely alone. In the rare case where they do spend time in the same space, she keeps the music blaring in her headphones, hoping it can distract her from the eyes on her every once in a while.

To Yeji’s credit, she really does try. She asks Ryujin if they can talk and buys jelly like it’s a peace offering and keeps Ryujin’s old seat next to her empty just in case . But Ryujin doesn’t know how to go back to how they were like, not when she can still hear what Yeji said in the middle of the night sometimes. She doesn’t know if she can silence the nagging thought that none of it is what she deserves, because it’s been proven right before, what makes it wrong now?

So Ryujin does what she does best when her mind is a mess - she stays quiet. Any words she could have feel like blunt arrows, never hitting what she wants to say, but hurtful nonetheless. And Yeji’s always been patient, always been good at waiting, but Ryujin doesn’t have to look at the expression on her face to know that a grand intervention is waiting for her around the corner. They’ve never lasted this long without talking to each other, never had to. There’s only so much one can take.

It comes when she’s sitting at a bench on the quad one day, hugging her knees to her chest, lost in thought. She only has a couple minutes of the peaceful silence before the familiar voice comes from behind her, like an ambush of sorts.

“Ryujin-ah,”

It’s too close for her to pretend she didn’t hear, so Ryujin looks back to see Yeji approaching her, hugging a stack of textbooks to her chest.

“I saw you when I was going back from class,” the older explains, hesitant. Ryujin hums as she sits, doesn’t try to continue the conversation. The betrayal settles between them, as does an awkward silence, and Ryujin can practically hear Yeji trying to come up with something to say. 

“You don’t have to keep pretending, you know,” she says before Yeji has the chance to speak, keeping her voice flat. “I’m not going to break.”

“Jinnie-”

“It’s okay if you have friends you’re more comfortable with,” Ryujin continues. “You don’t have to do all this for me. I can be fine by myself.”

It feels spiteful, but she’s in too deep to stop now, so she continues.

“I don’t have much time, anyway.”

It’s oddly liberating, saying the words out loud for once. Words she never wanted to think twice about, held back because she knew Yeji doesn’t like to hear them, and she wanted to try for her. 

And the words do land; maybe they hit the ground and explode, because Yeji reacts a little more than she expects.

“You’re not going to die!” the older stands up, eyes already reddening, and Ryujin feels a little guilty at that, knowing how much the older hates crying. But even that pales in comparison to the memory of the look on the older’s face when she realised her verbal slip up. So she just stares up at her.

“And you know that, how?” she asks, quiet enough to not feel like a punch but loud enough to make her point.

For a second, Yeji actually looks like she’s going to yell at her, and Ryujin braces for it. Yeji doesn’t get angry often, but when she does, it’s terrifying like no other. Ryujin’s probably pushing her to her limit; it’s always baffled her how Yeji hated her self-deprecating remarks even more than Ryujin herself. 

She suddenly feels victorious, like she’s succeeded in getting Yeji to feel just a fraction of what she’s been wrestling with these past few days. But then she sees the tears welled in Yeji’s eyes, and the guilt immediately comes back tenfold. 

Yeji seems to realise her stature, towering over Ryujin like this, and she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath.

“Sorry,” she exhales. She sits back down on the bench, looking straight ahead like she’s trying to regulate herself. 

Ryujin says nothing, but she can’t just watch Yeji like this and not do anything. She reaches for Yeji’s hand, limp on her lap, and holds it lightly, enough for her to pull away. She doesn’t turn to look, but she thinks that Yeji might be crying. 

“I’m sorry I said all that, Ryujin-ah,” Yeji murmurs, her voice thick. “I swear I didn’t mean it in that way.” 

There are thoughts like I trusted you or I thought you were different swirling in her head, but she shoves them down, whacks herself mentally for going overboard because try as she might, she can’t fully believe that Yeji is like everyone else in her life, because well, she’s Yeji . It doesn’t make it hurt any less (in fact, it hurts more ), but she also knows that she isn’t… like that.

Still. Yeji shouldn’t have to deal with her when she’s getting sick of herself. She shouldn’t have to deal with her, periodt. Not if she’s a burden.

“You should go,” Ryujin says, eventually. “I’m making you cry.”

The grip on her hand tightens. 

“No,” Yeji says. “I don’t want to.”

“I want you to,” Ryujin says before she can stop herself, the words coming out much too harsh. The silence that follows is much too stilted, too distant, even for the past few weeks. She can’t bring herself to look at the older as a beat passes, then another, as their hands still lie on Yeji’s lap, intertwined.

(Yeji’s own heart nearly damn well stops. The stupid muscle has the audacity to ache, because truth be told - she misses Ryujin. She misses her quietly steady presence. She misses the way Ryujin would hum in agreement while listening to her ramble. She misses her best friend, misses being Ryujin’s best friend. 

Understandably, Ryujin had shuttered. But the distance she kept Yeji at was further than the arm’s length she keeps strangers at. It was a completely courteous avoidance that made her want to scream at the world. But she’d caused this herself. She’s why Ryujin hasn’t spoken to her in weeks, hasn’t felt safe in her own dorm, looked worn out whenever she could spot her, in a way that ran deep.

And despite all that - despite hurting, she still cares. Enough to read her, to offer comfort as an apology for speaking the truth. Yeji doesn’t know whether to take that as a sign that they’ll be okay or think of it as the type of human decency you offer to anyone you see on the street.

When she saw Ryujin earlier, she wanted to apologise, make things right, and still has half a mind to see that through. But being spoken to so bluntly, like there isn’t a second option? She hadn’t expected this.

It would be cruel to stay, when the younger clearly wants her own space. She’s done enough.

So she does something she never thought she would do - and pulls away from Ryujin.)

“Okay,” Yeji whispers, letting go of her hand. Ryujin tries not to let the loss show on her face as Yeji stands up, murmurs a quick I’ll be going now before she practically runs off. 

When Yeji’s finally out of earshot, she leans back on the bench, and sighs. 

She needs a nap. A very long nap.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

What wakes Ryujin up is not the morning, nor is it an alarm. It’s a weight pressing on her chest, and it’s not the one she always feels. It’s physical , moving around like it’s alive, and there are sounds to accompany it, like someone has a cold and is trying to stifle it. 

“Jinnie,” she hears what’s suspiciously like Yeji’s voice say over and over again, and cracks an eye open. The sight that welcomes her back to the world of the living is borderline incomprehensible. The older is practically lying on top of her, hands half-wrapped around her body, half clutching onto her. She’s trembling and pleading, voice barely hanging on.

Ryujin doesn’t know what happened. All she knows is that Yeji is crying and holding onto her like her life depended on it, and all her fatigue evaporates from her in an instant. She tries to sit up, but Yeji’s firmly pressed her cheek to her chest, so she wraps her arms around her instead.

“What is it? What happened?” her voice is hoarse from sleep, but that doesn’t matter. Yeji is crying and it must have been bad because she’s seen Yeji distraught before but she’s never been like this .

Yeji lifts her head up, looks at her, and continues crying, holding her tighter. 

“I thought,” she gasps between sobs. “You weren’t waking up- I thought-”

“Oh,” is all Ryujin can manage, the fight or flight instinct taming down. “I’m still here. It’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry,” Yeji says into her shirt, fists not loosening. “I didn’t mean it, I- I’m so sorry, Jinnie,” 

Ryujin doesn’t respond, running a hand through Yeji’s hair as the older continues her monologue.

“I swear I don’t pity you, like, you’re not just a shell, and I know it’s not up to me, but I hate seeing you looking so dispirited and thinking about the same thing all the time. And I don’t know if it’s because you want to or because you have to but you’re facing everything head on anyway, and I’m so proud of you for that. I know I’m being selfish but I just-”

Yeji looks back up at her, eyes filled with tears. 

“I don’t want you to die, Jinnie,” she pleads. 

“Tell me you’re going to be okay,” her voice cracks at the last syllable. “Please,” she says in a small voice, quietly desperate.

For the first time in years, Ryujin is speechless. She doesn’t even believe she’s awake now. Maybe this is a dream, because Yeji would never say that to her. That’s not how their friendship works. They’re never overly straightforward, because years of sidestepping explosive topics and dodging terrifying conversations means that Yeji won’t tell her she cares, but will keep a watchful eye on her wherever they go, even when she thinks Ryujin isn’t looking. Ryujin won’t touch any subject of the sort with a ten metre pole either, but she will make sure she has an extra flannel for if Yeji gets cold, or pass Yeji her notes when she’s studying for a test they both have. They work in wordless tandem, covering up for each other and pushing the elephant in the room aside.

There’s nothing she can say, nothing that can be promised, so she doesn’t say anything, only looking at Yeji with what she hopes is an apology in her expression. The older doesn’t push it more, buries her sniffles back into Ryujin’s shirt as she soothes a hand up her back. They don’t usually hug like this anymore, their days of camping in the same bed at night dwindling long ago, but Ryujin finds herself thinking of those first days, when they were giggling about everything and nothing while hunched under the blankets, pouring their hearts out to each other in the darkness of the nights.

In the midst of reminiscing and making sure Yeji is okay, Ryujin feels her eyelids grow heavy again, the rush of adrenaline draining away into blurry fatigue. Yeji’s arms snake around her waist, and Ryujin buries her nose in her hair; there’s the familiar smell of her shampoo that she still hasn’t changed, and it’s nostalgic in the way that makes her even sleepier, cuddled up to Yeji like this. 

Yeji says something, holds onto her tighter, but Ryujin doesn’t hear it. She pats her back to calm her instinctively, giving into the pull of sleep amidst the warmth of Yeji next to her.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

When Ryujin wakes up the next day, she can almost think of everything as a dream. Only, Yeji’s still lying in her arms, already awake and looking at her. 

“Morning,” the older whispers, eyes tired but still crinkling at the corners slightly, and Ryujin gives her a weak smile, still unable to resist her when she looks at her like that.

They don’t talk about what happened. But Ryujin does wordlessly forgive Yeji, quits leaving before the older wakes up to sit in the library after that. When she walks over and sits down at her original seat that day, the smile the older gives her is so hopeful she vows never to do that to her again, no matter how much it hurts. 

It doesn’t go back to how they were before, and Ryujin knows it can’t; there isn’t anything in the world that can reverse time or make people forget what happened. But they settle back into a tentative balance; Yeji doesn’t drag her to do something in hopes of making her heart beat again, and she doesn’t mention anything about thinking she’s going to die soon. It’s like a wordless tradeoff that they both agreed to.

A few days later, they get paired together for a showcase, to no one’s surprise; they’re well known in the school’s dance community, especially together, a “golden duo”. Ryujin isn’t surprised that it’s happened again, but it does feel a little different. 

Yeji stares at her with a look that borders between hope and apprehension, and Ryujin gives her a small smile, hopes that whatever happened between them doesn’t affect their on stage chemistry. They do bring the best out of each other when it comes to dance, anyway.

Their first few practices with the teacher go off without a hitch, but when Yeji suggests they go to the studio one Friday night to practice, just the two of them, Ryujin isn’t surprised in the slightest. They always spent the longest time in the studio together, trying to make sure they lived and breathed the same music, the same counts. 

It goes off well enough, isn’t unbearable when they both have a task to focus on. A slight tension here and there, but Ryujin can’t ask for any more when they barely spoke to each other two weeks ago. They go through the dance section by section, and Ryujin is pleased (and a little bit relieved) that what happened before didn’t change much of how they dance together. They still know how to read each other, how to adjust without saying anything, how to bridge the differences in their dance styles. 

Like always, it’s well past midnight when Yeji gives a nod of approval at their video.

“Let’s call it a day?”

Ryujin hums, flops onto the couch with her phone and water bottle in hand. Her muscles ache, and there’s sweat dripping down the side of her face, but as always, her heart is silent. She uses her shirt to wipe her sweat, zoning out as she breathes steadily. 

There are a couple messages that have accumulated, and she attends to them, sending a half-hearted reply to her parents’ check-in from a week ago, responding to a group mate about a math project.

“Ryujin?” In the midst of typing a reply to someone about a homework question, Yeji, who’s been unusually silent, suddenly speaks up. She sounds hesitant, her voice soft.

Ryujin hums, brain still halfway between delirium from fatigue and the world of the living.

“I’m sorry,” Yeji says, and it confuses her, because they’ve been through this before, in a night that still feels like a dream, still burns fresh in her memories.

“You already apologised,” Ryujin looks over from her phone. Yeji’s dark eyes burn into her, searching for something. Maybe the same thing she’s always searched for; a sign of life.

A beat passes, then Yeji sighs, averting her gaze to the mirror in front of them. 

“Then,” she stops, closes her eyes like she’s willing the courage to come to her. “Why do I feel like we’re not okay anymore?” 

It wakes her up a little more. She puts her phone down, brings her legs up to the couch to sit sideways and and leans on the armrest to face her. 

“If being near me is hurting you, I’d rather keep you away,” she says as genuinely as she can. The statement lingers in the air for a moment. Ryujin hopes her point got through. Yeji’s too good to be stuck with someone like her, someone who isn’t promised the next second. She just hopes she sees that.

Yeji lets out a half-exhale-half-laugh, but it sounds sad. She stands up, and Ryujin’s eyes follow her until she’s right in front of her, sitting down in a position mirroring hers.

“What if…” Yeji’s eyes go to the space between them, and then she looks up. Her eyes are faintly red, in the way that tells Ryujin she’s holding back tears, but still filled with determination nonetheless.

“What if I want to stay?” She says softly. Ryujin’s eyebrows shoot up, but at the same time, she’s not really surprised; Yeji isn’t stubborn for nothing. “What if I’m here even though I know everything, because I know everything?”

Ryujin shakes her head firmly.

“You shouldn’t be,” she says.

“I want to be,” Yeji presses, taking one of the drawstrings of her sweatpants and toying with it, winding it up her finger though her eyes are still on Ryujin. Ryujin fights the urge to tell her to stop, because what Yeji’s going to say is probably more important than her irks.

“I want to be where you are. It doesn’t matter if it hurts, ‘cause that’s how it is sometimes, but I know you’d never do that to me. And you’re not. It’s just-”

Yeji shakes her head, eyes glassy. She meets Ryujin’s eyes again, smiles helplessly. 

“I’m scared.”

Ryujin frowns. “Of me?”

“No!” Yeji’s hand shoots out, reaching for her, but she catches before they can touch, tucking her hand in the sleeve of her hoodie. 

“Never of you.” She says instead, voice trembling a little with emotion. “ For you. I get so scared when you fall asleep, because I don’t know if you’re still here. And maybe I’m scared for myself too, because I don’t know what to do if you really-”

She shakes her head again, changing course to fiddle with a loose piece of leather on the couch instead.

“You’re one of the most important people in my life, Ryujin-ah. I’ll walk through fire if you ask me to, but I just- I can’t lose you.”

You’re going to, Ryujin’s brain screams, and she pushes it down.

“But why ?” she asks, in an attempt to chase the thought away; it slips out anyway. “I’m just another person who ended up in the same school as you, and I’m probably going to disappear sooner than we both know.” 

“And don’t you tell me it’s not true because we both know that it is,” Ryujin adds, seeing Yeji about to rebut her. “I’m moody and temperamental and mean. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Yeji mutters, eyebrows furrowed.

“Why not?” Ryujin challenges, 

“Because you’re-” Yeji takes a deep breath, leaning her head on her hand . “You’re why I look forward to the mornings. You’re smart and funny even though you think you’re not, and you’re quietly confident because you know how your presence affects the room, even in the subtlest ways. Sometimes I look at you and wonder how I got so lucky to have someone like you next to me, ‘cause you’re one of the best people I know.

“It’s been so many years, and I’m still finding new things about you every day, things that I never imagined, and every little thing just makes me realise even more that I don’t want to be anywhere without you, and I would go anywhere with you, as long as you’re there.”

She meets her eyes.

“So forgive me, Ryujin-ah, if I can’t in good faith sit and listen to you talk about yourself like you’re a lost cause, because you’re not . I know you act like you don’t care about anything or anyone sometimes, but I also know better, and I see it when you try to make everyone around you happy. And I wish you saw yourself the way I see you, because I’d do anything for you too, to see you happy.” 

Yeji pauses, seems to think about it, then adds,

“I’d watch Ratatouille with you if you wanted to.”

Ryujin blinks, a little caught off guard. “You hate mice.”

Yeji shrugs, and Ryujin can already see through her false nonchalance. 

“But you like Ratatouille.”

And- oh. It suddenly sounds familiar, hits a bit too close. It sounds like what she would have said about Yeji, years ago, when they were just two girls sharing a room and she was just Ryujin instead of the girl whose heart didn’t beat.

When she meets Yeji’s eyes, it’s with a question, and the look on her face is suddenly reminiscent of her own.

“Do you…?” Ryujin questions.

Yeji gives her a slight nod, tears finally trailing down the side of her face, after she’s held them in for so long. Every fibre of Ryujin’s being screams because it’s everything she ever wanted but it’s also years too late for her to do anything about it and she shouldn’t be stringing Yeji along like this.

She reaches for her hand, still fiddling with the couch, and takes it in hers, squeezes it, tries to convince both of them that what Yeji feels isn’t fruitless. It’s so, so selfish, but the words that she’s been pushing down because of fear and hopelessness and everything in between come back up, clawing against her throat.

Yeji’s still looking at her, hand still in hers, eyes sad but hopeful. It’s then when Ryujin makes the decision to be selfish, hopes that whoever’s watching will forgive her for being human just this once.

“I did too, you know?” her voice comes in a low whisper, like she doesn’t want it to be heard. She really shouldn’t be saying this, because you need a heart to love and she certainly doesn’t have one that works, does she? 

Still, she continues. Bares her heart open, as quiet as it is. 

“Before all this,” she grasps Yeji's wrist, puts her hand on her chest, over her heart again. Much like those years ago. “I did too.”

Yeji sighs shakily, leans forward to press her forehead against Ryujin’s as she closes her eyes. It’s like she’s waiting, searching for a sign of life, something that points to the fact that Ryujin isn’t a dead woman walking. 

“Ryujinnie,” she whispers, and they’re so close that Ryujin can feel the air as she speaks. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Ryujin answers by moving her other hand to the back of Yeji’s neck and pulling her closer.

When their lips meet, it’s not a symphony. There aren’t fireworks or clinking champagne glasses at midnight or people wolf-whistling at them. It’s quiet, gentle, with a hint of desperation. With a please don’t let this be the last time I can do this or a please don’t take her from me . Years of repressed fears and concealed feelings.

Yeji pulls back, cheeks flushed a pretty red even though her tears are still falling, and Ryujin can’t help the fond smile that crosses her face.

It happens before she realises what it is.

Thud. 

Yeji’s eyes are so pretty when she’s smiling, even with tears shining in them.

Thud.

And there’s the dimple on her cheek, the one that appears when she’s smiling genuinely. 

Thud.

What’s this foreign sensation?

Thud.  

Her heart.

Oh.

Her heart . 

Yeji’s still smiling at her, something fond, but it’s a little blurry now, corners of the room spinning into each other. A rush of blood to her head. It’s oddly hot and heavy and weightless at the same time.

She realises what it is too late. Patches of rainbow appear in her vision, and she tries to say something to warn Yeji, but her mouth won’t move, and the corners of her vision are already turning black.

The world tunnels, and she blacks out.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Ryujin wakes to find herself laid on her side, completely on the couch now. That’s weird; wasn’t she just sitting down two seconds ago?

She shifts slightly, tilting her head back forward and wiggling her fingers. Her hand is tucked under her ears, she realises, and then remembers; it’s a recovery pose, which confuses her until she remembers what happened, and nearly blacks out again at the realisation of it.

Her heart is beating . 

It’s only after this that her heart starts loudly making itself known, something steady in her chest, the thumps echoing in her ears, unfamiliar but not forgotten. It’s been ages since she’s felt her pulse beneath her fingertips, but she welcomes it all the same. 

She turns gingerly, looks up from where she is, only to find Yeji pacing in the middle of the room, phone pressed to her ear. Her heart flips at the sight of her as she pushes herself to an upright position slowly.

“Unnie,” she says, voice a little hoarse, and Yeji doesn’t hear her, speaking on the phone frantically. 

“-she’s passed out, like completely, and she doesn’t have a pulse. No, you don’t get it. She’s not dead , she just doesn’t have a pulse-”

As if to contradict Yeji, her heart beats loudly in her chest again, aches a little.

“Yeji unnie,” she forces out, clutching her chest with her free hand. Yeji whips around, and her phone slides out of her grip, falling onto the floor. Yeji doesn’t seem to care, walking straight back up to her and dropping onto the couch next to her. 

“Jinnie, oh my god, you scared me so much, I thought-” 

She holds Ryujin’s face in her hands, eyes sweeping over her for any signs of discomfort.

“Unnie-”

“What is it?” Yeji brushes a stray hair away. The look on her face is so tender it hurts. “Does it hurt?”

The steady sound of heartbeats is the only thing Ryujin can hear now, a constant background to everything that’s happening, the mess in her head. Everything is so loud, so lively that she doesn’t know what to do first.

She looks up at Yeji, the older waiting patiently now that Ryujin seems to exhibit signs of life. 

“It’s-” Ryujin struggles to speak with a sudden swell of emotion. “It’s beating, unnie. My heart.” 

She tugs at her shirt for emphasis, and something falls apart in Yeji’s eyes, something that looks a little bit like hope.

“Ryujin-ah,”

She reaches for Yeji’s wrist again, placing her palm on her chest.

“Feel it,”

A few long seconds pass, as the room seems to still. Her heart thuds between them.

“Jinnie,” Yeji breathes, meeting her eyes with what looks a lot like awe, like disbelieving relief. 

“It’s beating,” Ryujin whispers, squeezing Yeji’s wrist. She looks down at her arm, and it’s no longer as pale as her sheets are. It looks like she’s alive .

“It’s beating ,” Yeji echoes, crushing her in a hug. She feels Yeji’s heartbeat as well as her own as Yeji laughs something shocked and overjoyed. It’s warm, both being in Yeji’s arms and from the inside, something she didn’t know she missed so much until now.

“Did it-” Yeji pulls back to look at her, worries her lip. “Was it because of me?” she asks in a hushed whisper.

“Don’t go telling everyone now,” Ryujin reaches for her hand. Everything seems a little more vivid now, more dynamic, and Yeji’s touch does wonders to keep her from getting swept away by the liveliness of it all.

“So I’m your prince charming,” Yeji grins, face a little pink, and Ryujin whacks her shoulder half-heartedly. 

“Don’t act like I was a damsel in distress,” she says, but smiles nonetheless.

“Oh, you’re not a damsel. You’re the emotionally unavailable main lead and I’m the one who sweeps you off your feet.” 

“Shut up,” Ryujin murmurs, but she can’t keep the smile off her face.

“Make me,” Yeji raises an eyebrow, and Ryujin wants to kiss her again, but doesn’t know if her heart can take it without giving way.

“My heart’s already beating. I don’t want to go to the hospital because it’s beating too fast,” she tells Yeji, but leans over anyway, pressing a kiss to the older’s cheek. Yeji promptly flushes. 

For a moment, they just sit there in silence, both trying to acknowledge what just happened, trying to keep up with the whiplash of the past few moments. It’s calm in a way it hasn’t been in a few weeks, without simmering words or barely restrained hurt.

“Are you feeling okay?” Yeji’s thumb brushes over the back of her hand, breaking the stillness of the moment.

“Never better,” Ryujin murmurs. 

“We should get you to a doctor,” Yeji tells her, but Ryujin shakes her head. There’s no way she’s breaking this moment between them, not when everything is so new, so tentative between them. She takes the lighthearted route instead.

“Later. I’m too tired to do anything but go back, shower and sleep for the next fourteen hours.”

She squints at Yeji playfully, and the older chuckles, blinks, and it’s suddenly like she’s looking at a new person.

“Oh, how can I ever make it up to you?” She bats her eyes at Ryujin, half pouting and Ryujin shivers at the sudden switch-up. Yeji has never done that before. 

“Never do that again,” she pokes her, and Yeji nods in agreement, already looking like she regrets it.

“So?”

“You can start by picking up your poor phone,” she juts her chin at the device, still lying on the floor where Yeji dropped it. Yeji groans, heaving herself up from the couch and picking it up. She puts it in her pocket, and turns back with a question in her eyes.

“Let’s go back first,” Ryujin tells her. Yeji glares at her as she tries to stand up, and she pouts. “What?”

“If you think I’m letting you walk on the street after that , you’re-”

“Crazy, I know,” Ryujin nods appeasingly. “But the sooner we get back, the sooner I can get proper rest. You know, since it’s almost midnight?”

Yeji sighs, and Ryujin stands up slowly. The older hovers over her, watching with trepidation. 

“If you faint again, I’m going to cry, and I’m going to kill you.”

Small patches of rainbow appear in her vision, but they fade away quickly when she blinks a couple of times. She shakes her limbs out a little, doesn’t feel the telltale signs of fainting, and nods. 

“Okay,” she tells Yeji, who frowns. “Let’s go.”

“Maybe you should sit for a little while more.”

“I can sit when we’re back home.” Ryujin picks up her bag, walking over to switch off the lights. The room goes dark, the only source of brightness from the small hole in the door, but even in the dim light, she can tell Yeji isn’t impressed.

“Unnie, I promise I’m okay to walk back,” she pokes her. 

Yeji grabs her arm, putting it over her shoulder.

“You better be sure,” her hand comes to rest on Ryujin’s waist. “I nearly lost you over some stupid thing I said when I wasn’t thinking. I’m not losing you again.”

“You didn’t lose me,” Ryujin emphasises, squeezing her shoulder. “We’re just walking down two streets. I’ll tell you the minute something happens. Promise.”

The older relents, but keeps a hawk’s eye on her as they walk down the hallway, take the lift and finally step out onto the street. 

“Okay?” she confirms, and Ryujin nods. Her legs still ache faintly from the exertion of the day, but her head is clear and the ground is solid under her feet, so she matches Yeji’s step as they walk.

They cross the road and walk past the 24-hour convenience store a few blocks away from their dorm, and Yeji pauses, looks back. Ryujin thinks she knows where this is going. Yeji will always be Yeji, after all. Convenience stores are no match for her. She just has to count three, two, one, and…

“Wait,” 

Ryujin chuckles to herself as Yeji carefully tugs her into the convenience store, swiping two packs of jelly off the shelf. She places them at the cashier, then hesitates, looks in the direction of the chips aisle, then back at the jellies.

“Wait here,” she tells Ryujin, disappearing into the aisle. 

There’s a sound of crinkling, and Yeji reappears a few seconds later with two big bags of corn chips in her hands.

“Yeji unnie…”

“We’ll share,” Yeji says firmly, pulling out her wallet as the cashier rings the items up and swiping her card quickly. She shoves the jellies in her tote bag, hugs the chips with one arm, and offers her other to Ryujin. Ryujin stares at it blankly.

“What?”

“Pabo,” Yeji gives up, puts her arm around Ryujin’s shoulders instead. “I’m trying to make sure if anything happens, you don’t faceplant into the middle of the street, Jinnie. Someone couldn’t stay put in the practice room for a while more.”

“I’m fine, ” Ryujin insists, and Yeji shakes her head. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she squeezes her shoulder. “Now walk before I regret letting you out of the practice room.”

Right after saying that, Yeji seemingly trips on air, stumbling a little, and Ryujin steadies her with her arm.

“Nope.” Yeji glares at her before she can say anything, although there’s a hint of mirth in her eyes. “I know what you’re going to say. Shut up and walk, Ryujinnie.”

She can’t help the laugh that escapes her as Yeji tugs at her arm a little insistently, speeding up their walk. The older doesn’t let go of her until they’re back in their dorm, and after opening a packet of jelly, they take turns washing up in the bathroom. Ryujin goes through her routine first, and when she comes out, Yeji stands up, popping another jelly in her mouth. She makes sure Ryujin sits down before gathering her clothes.

“No more running around,” she says with a glare before closing the bathroom door. The sound of water running comes seconds later.

Confined to her bed, there’s nothing more she can do than scroll through a webtoon, so she does just that as she waits. It’s part of her daily routine, and she’s thankful for the alone time, despite it being short tonight. She can make a few exceptions for Yeji.

The main lead has just discovered his friend’s betrayal when Yeji finally comes out in her pajamas, and any thought of the webtoon flies out of Ryujin’s head. She locks her phone, puts it down on the nightstand, and gestures for her to come nearer to her bed.

“You know, I’m not done with you yet.”

Yeji shuffles over obediently, and Ryujin takes her hand and tugs at her arm until she’s sitting down next to her. She does have one more request, but it’s a little hard to say it, makes her blush at the thought.

“Yes?” Yeji arches an eyebrow upwards.

Screw it.

“Stay here with me?” she whispers, unable to look at her. Yeji laughs, and Ryujin feels her face burn . 

“Pabo,” 

“Who are you calling an idiot,” Ryujin grumbles, petulant. “Suit yourself. I’m going to sleep.”

She lets go of Yeji’s arm and turns back around to face the wall, pulling the blanket over her head to hide the redness of her cheeks. Stupid. Why did she even say that? 

Yeji’s chuckle is muffled, and she curls into herself, cursing the fact that her brain-to-mouth filter failed her at the most important moment, and god , Yeji isn’t ever going to let her forget this-

And then her warm cocoon is being disturbed, and there’s a little bit of shuffling before she feels a warm body press against hers, an arm drop on her waist. She startles despite herself. 

“You’re so silly, Jinnie,” Yeji’s voice is closer than she expects, right next to her ear. “You could have just said you wanted to cuddle.” 

“We stopped doing that ages ago. What was I supposed to think?”

“Only because someone became more prickly and I didn’t want to make her mad,” 

Ryujin turns to face her, and Yeji doesn’t look mad, or frustrated; her expression is open.

“Was I really that-”

“Sometimes. You didn’t joke that often anymore, and then you stopped teasing me. That was the biggest red flag.”

“Sorry,” Ryujin mumbles.

“Forgiven.” Yeji reaches for her hand under the blanket. “I was more worried that you stopped talking to me.”

Ryujin nods. “I know. I mean, I don’t know,”

She sighs, pulling her knees to her chest.

“I got so angry these past few months,” she says slowly. “When my heart first stopped, I didn’t think too much of it, ‘cause I didn’t think it was permanent. This type of thing doesn’t come by often, y’know?” 

She tries for a smile, and Yeji obliges, although her thumb brushes over her knuckles.

“And then you started dragging me out to do whatever we could and it still wasn’t working, and I got so scared that it forgot how to beat, was so angry because it didn’t even move . It’s like knocking on a door every day and having no answer.”

“I didn’t want to tell you, ‘cause then you’d worry more and we’d do more things and I didn’t know what to do if nothing worked, y’know? I wouldn’t have known how to make it sound better because it would just have been the truth, that I would probably die without knowing why.”

“Even when you said that the other day,” Ryujin shakes her head when she feels Yeji about to apologise again. “I thought it was finally going to hurt. But it didn’t, and that was somehow worse, because it made what you said true, and I couldn’t even do anything about it.”

There’s a frown between Yeji’s eyebrows, and Ryujin presses it. 

“Stop that.”

“And now?”

“You want to listen to it?” Ryujin asks her, and Yeji looks questioningly at her, asking for approval. She nods, and the older moves to press her ear to the space above her heart. 

“It’s beating,” Yeji whispers. 

Ryujin wraps her arms around her, and Yeji plays with the hem of her shirt. 

“It’s because of you,” she kisses the top of her head. 

Yeji giggles sleepily, shifting a little to look up at her. 

“I never knew you were such a romantic, Shin Ryujin,” she teases, although there’s a soft edge to it.

“What can I do, my reputation has been ruined,” Ryujin says dryly. 

“I knew you were secretly a softie,” Yeji murmurs, and her eyelids droop. 

“You can rub it in my face tomorrow,” Ryujin says, and Yeji lets out a drowsy laugh. “Go to sleep.”

“‘m gonna wake up tomorrow ‘nd everything’s g’nna be gone,” Yeji mumbles, eyes closed. 

Ryujin chuckles, and it’s a little bittersweet, because Yeji somehow just verbalised what’s been on her mind the entire time. 

“I should hope not. I’m enjoying this new pulse. A bit too much, I think.”

“If it stops again, I’m g’nna punch someone.”

“As long as it’s not me,” Ryujin tells her, and Yeji giggles again.

“I think, ‘m… kinda…” the older’s voice trails off.

“What did you say?” 

Yeji doesn’t respond. Ryujin realises she’s fallen asleep, and chuckles to herself. She may be tired from their late night, but Yeji must be more tired, having to be the one to push for it.

She closes her eyes, inches closer to Yeji, and listens to her heartbeat. It’s steady, grounding in the way it used to be, and she gives in to the pull of sleep easily, warm and content.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Interestingly enough, Ryujin is the first of the two of them to wake up in the morning. She keeps her eyes closed stubbornly, tries to fumble for her phone to check the time, but she hits something warm and soft instead of the cool cover of her phone. 

Confused, she opens an eye, and then completely forgets about the time. Yeji’s sleeping next to her, lips slightly parted, brown hair fanned all over the pillow - her pillow. 

They’re sharing a pillow. 

She closes her eyes, then opens them again, just to make sure this is not a dream, that last night actually happened. 

And when it does register, she feels her heart rate - god, her heart rate - spike, the muscle beating loud against her chest with the force of it. If Yeji was awake, she would surely hear it. Only she isn’t. 

She doesn’t remember the last time she’s seen Yeji like this, up close. The muscles of her face relaxed into a quiet serenity, the elegant curve of her jawline, the soft flutter of her eyelids. The cute roundness of their younger years had given way to something more mature, more defined. She likes this look on her.

She lies like that for a moment. Maybe two. Maybe an eternity. She doesn’t know how long passes as she watches Yeji sleep peacefully, chest rising and falling with every breath, looking just like she did years ago. 

Finally, the older shifts slightly, opens her eyes, squinting sleepily into the light, and smiles. Ryujin wants to file this moment away somewhere, so she can remember the way her eyes curve, the dimple appearing on her cheeks.

“Morning,” she murmurs, eyes falling close with a sigh. 

Ryujin smiles. “Morning. Sleep well?”

“Mm. I wonder why.” Yeji opens her eyes again, blinking sleepily.

“It’s ‘cause I’m here ,” Ryujin says, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Yeji winces, suddenly looking much more awake.

“I didn’t mean it that way, I swear,” 

She reaches under the blanket for Ryujin’s hand, lifts it and brushes her lips against it absent-mindedly. 

“You were always here, but not in the way I wanted you to be.” she says slowly, like she’s trying to find the right words.”

“Then how did you want me to be here?”

A beat passes, and Yeji drapes her arm around her waist. Ryujin only has a moment to breathe before she kisses her, lightly at first, then when Ryujin doesn’t protest, long and slow. She lets her, pushes herself into the kiss, needing to be as close to Yeji as she can. The older nips at her lip gently, and she gasps a little before Yeji’s pulling back with a sleepy but satisfied grin, even though her face is red.

“Like that.”

Ryujin smirks. “Yours?”

Yeji suddenly seems to look everywhere but at her. “Maybe.”

Ryujin laughs, bringing her hand up to rest on Yeji’s cheek. It’s warm from the flush, and she traces her thumb over her cheekbone.

“I was already yours. You just didn’t know it.”

Yeji raises an eyebrow, and it prompts Ryujin to continue, though she can feel her face growing hot the more she speaks.

“It was before I had all this,” she gestures to herself, knowing Yeji gets it. “We were in that science class you really liked, and you were listening really intently. I flicked an eraser at you, and you turned to smile at me before looking back at the board.”

Yeji chuckles. “Really? That was it?”

Ryujin shrugs. “I guess I just love you, even in the most normal moments.”

The air stills. Yeji’s breath hitches, and Ryujin realises what she just said, the air stopping somewhere in the middle of her throat.

“Say it again,” Yeji murmurs, 

“Say what?” Ryujin teases, earning her a half-hearted poke.

“Don’t try me, Shin Ryujin.” Yeji pokes her in the ribs again, where she’s most ticklish, and she squirms. 

“Fine, fine.” 

She brings her hand out of the blanket, resting it on Yeji’s cheek.

“I love you, unnie.” She traces her thumb over her cheekbone. “I’ve loved you since that stupid, stupid science class and probably even before, and I loved you even though I wasn’t sure I could, and I still love you so much that my dead heart wants to work because of you. And I don’t just mean it as a best friend.”

Her voice trembles all throughout, and Yeji just stares and stares, and she finds herself burning under the blankets, probably flushing a bright red right at this moment to match her hair.

“Unnie,-”

Yeji’s hand fists the front of her sleep shirt, pulling her towards her, and Ryujin barely has time to gasp before their lips meet again, and Yeji takes the air out of her lungs.

“You do that again, and I might just never stop saying it.” Ryujin grins when she pulls back, and Yeji shakes her head, cheeks flushing. 

“Does that mean you’re my girlfriend now?”

“I don’t know,” Ryujin squints at her playfully. “But I do know that you’re leaving a girl hanging after her confession, and I think said girl literally poured her heart out in front of you.”

Yeji pokes her again, and Ryujin squeaks.

“I love you too, you pabo. Working heart or not, but I hope it continues to beat because I like seeing you happy.”

Ryujin kisses her, chaste this time. 

“ Now we’re girlfriends. And I want to take my girlfriend on a breakfast date, so we’re going to get dressed and go out.”

Yeji chuckles.

“I never thought I’d see the day where you’d willingly get out of bed.”

“I contain multitudes,” Ryujin says solemnly. “Especially when it comes to restarting hearts.” 

She pokes Yeji in the side. 

“Now get out of bed. Let’s go wash up.”

Yeji groans in protest, but she’s smiling by the time they reach the bathroom. Ryujin catches her eye in the mirror as they’re brushing their teeth, and makes a weird face. Yeji sputters a little, glares at her before spitting the foam in her mouth out. 

“You’re insufferable,”

“You like it.” Ryujin scrunches her nose, and Yeji shakes her head fondly.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Ryujin decides to tell her parents a few days later, when it really doesn’t seem to be a stint, and gets more than an earful before being carted off to the doctor once more, where she’s talked at again. When they ask her what happened, she gives them a vague version of the past few days, doesn’t breathe a word about Yeji. They talk at her, stern and unsmiling, but she doesn’t really care anymore, can’t bring herself to respond enthusiastically when all she was to them was a poor terminal patient.

It’s only when the dorm door closes behind her, and she leaps onto Yeji, who’s sitting on her bed with a book, that she feels peace for the first time that day. The older yelps, book nearly hitting her face in the process, but relents when Ryujin only holds her tighter.

“What did they say?” Yeji stretches her hand out to set the book down on the nightstand.

“They were mad I didn’t tell them sooner,” Ryujin peeks an eye out, and Yeji glares at her.

“I told you to-”

“But,” Ryujin cuts her off, waving her hands dramatically. “It seems permanent for now. They’ll check on me periodically, but other than that, everything is okay.”

“Everything?”

“Everything. You’re not getting rid of my annoying ass any time soon.”

Yeji laughs, 

“Good,” Yeji finally wraps her arms around her properly, and she sighs in contentment. 

Later, when Yeji leaves to use the washroom, her phone rings. 

“Ma. What is it?”

“I just wanted to check in, Ryujin. How are you doing?”

It’s how it usually goes; ask her a few questions, get her to loosen her guard, then drop a bomb on her, something that they wouldn’t tell her in person or even over video call. She wonders what it’ll be this time. Her mother asks her a couple more questions, and she answers them dutifully. And then, like clockwork, it comes.

“We were thinking… your father found a good private school nearer to the house,-”

Her blood freezes. 

“-they’re accepting new students, even though it’s the middle of the year. We’ve been too far all these years, and we think it would do you good to come back, so you can be closer to home.”

Her mother prattles on, and Ryujin zones out, anger bubbling in her chest. All these years, barely a peep from them, and now a few hours after she’s declared ‘normal’, they decide she’s part of the family again, and want to whisk her back into their world, away from her own. Away from Yeji.

Over her dead body.

“No,” Ryujin interrupts, forcing her voice to be even, and the line goes silent immediately. She takes a deep breath.

“I’m not going.”

“Ryujin-”

“I said what I said, Ma. I was never worthy of being near you guys. What makes me worth it now? Because I suddenly have a functioning heart? That’s not how it works, Ma. The doctor might have said I’ve suddenly come to life, but I haven’t changed, and I have people here I actually care about. You don’t get to move me around as you wish like I’m a pawn.”

The silence continues, and she fears that she might have said too much, because they could technically make her do what they wanted. A few more seconds, and she’s thinking of hanging up. 

Finally, her mother exhales, her exasperation audible through the phone, mixed with something she doesn’t know. 

“Okay. Fine. You can stay there for now. Just- come home during your next break, okay?”

“Sure,” if they’ll even be there. Ryujin can’t find it in herself to care anymore. She says a half-hearted goodbye and hangs up, throwing her phone on her bed. She turns, and their room door is ajar, and Yeji’s standing outside, a stricken expression on her face.

Her heart drops.

“Unnie, how much did you-”

Yeji crushes her in a hug, and Ryujin lets out a surprised grunt as she catches her weight. 

“Hi to you too, I guess,” she mumbles. Yeji makes a noise she can’t interpret, then she’s pulling back, looking at her with that concerned look. 

“You’re worth it,” she says, thumb smoothing over Ryujin’s cheek. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Only because of you,” Ryujin leans into her hand, and Yeji smiles. 

“You always are.”

“How much did you hear?” Ryujin asks again, and Yeji looks a little sheepish.

“I caught the last bit. Your parents-”

“I’m not going to.” Ryujin interrupts firmly. 

Yeji frowns. “But if it makes you happier,-”

Ryujin covers her mouth before she can continue, because Yeji really would martyr herself if it meant making her happy, but she won’t let her.

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” she says firmly, removing her hand once it’s clear that Yeji won’t, even though there’s still a furrow in her brow. “ You’re here, and that’s what makes me happy.”

She wraps her arms around Yeji’s waist.

“Besides, you’ve stuck by me for all these years,” she pulls her closer, brushes their noses together. “I think it’s time for me to stay with you.”

“You’re saying that as if it was hard,” Yeji chuckles.

“Wasn’t it?”

“Well, if you consider peeling tangerines and listening to webtoon plots hard, then I suppose it was.”

“Then I’m lucky you find it easy.” 

“You’re really going to stay?” Yeji asks again, and Ryujin is surprised to find a tilt of uncertainty in her voice. 

“Unnie, I talked to you this entire time. You think I’m going to bend to them that easily?”

“They’re your parents , Jinnie.”

“They should have acted like it a long time ago,” Ryujin replies flatly. “I’m not dropping everything I have on a whim to try to get their attention anymore.”

Yeji exhales through her nose.

“Fair. But at least talk to them? I know you want to.”

Ryujin stares at her, stubborn. A small part of her does, but Yeji wasn’t supposed to know that.

“You talked to me the entire time,” Yeji reminds her with her own words. “I know when you’re trying not to say something but when your face says it anyway.”

Ryujin sighs.

“Fine. I’ll talk to them, but I’m not leaving. You’re going to be stuck with me for a very long time.”

Yeji smirks. “Who said I was complaining?”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

At the showcase, when they conclude their performance to the deafening cheers of the auditorium, Ryujin looks over at Yeji, only to find her already staring at her. The older’s eyes are a little wet as they join hands and bow.

“I love you,” she whispers, half drowned out by the crowd, but it’s also thank you for being here and I’m glad I get to do this with you and let’s continue like this for a long time. She can’t say it all, but she hopes Yeji can see it in her eyes.

 Yeji smiles, that disarming one that threatens to bring her to her knees. 

“I love you too,” she murmurs.

And then she pulls her in.

Her heart trips over itself, stutters, and she feels a split second of fear that her countdown is starting again. But then it settles, back into its steady thumping, and Ryujin relaxes into the kiss, tuning out the wolf whistles, the shocked screaming from below the stage, the snapping of shutters. 

When Yeji finally pulls back, she looks at her, a mischievous glint in her eye. Ryujin shakes her head fondly at her as they walk off stage, the auditorium still reeling at what they (Yeji) did. 

And it’s here when Ryujin realises that maybe it’s not all bad, the malfunctioning of a heart. Maybe it can mean someone is too happy (her), or too grateful (her) or too sickeningly in love (also her, she finally admits). 

She thinks about it too much, maybe, even as they change out of their outfits.

“You’re going to make my heart stop,” she tells Yeji as she gathers her clothes, then promptly realises her joke is in bad taste, because Yeji stops halfway, her face morphing into panic.

“No, no that’s not what I meant!” She hurries, putting a hand up before Yeji can say anything. “I’m okay. I’m okay, I promise.”

Yeji only looks at her warily. 

“What I mean is,” she places a hand on Yeji’s arm, then stops, because Yeji’s eyes sweep over her again not so discreetly.

“You’re sure you’re okay,” Yeji says quietly, an uncertain statement. Ryujin nods, and the older’s shoulders relax, nodding at her to go on.

“I meant that my heart is so full these days it likes to skip a beat once in a while,” she says, smiling reassuringly when Yeji frowns again. “But then it goes right back on track. It’s kind of like it’s reminding me how lucky I am.”

Yeji continues staring at her, and Ryujin pokes her.

“Say something.”

The older shakes her head, but Ryujin catches the beginnings of a smile on her face.

“I don’t know if I should hit you for giving me a heart attack or hug you because that’s one of the best things you’ve said recently.”

Ryujin grins.

“How about you do neither, and kiss me instead?”

Yeji shakes her head again, but obliges. As they speak to teachers, other members of the team, arms linked, she runs through her reality now. She has a girlfriend she loves who’s also her best friend, and they just finished one of many more dance showcases, and people at school are going to remember them by their performance together . 

Her heart does its little happy lub-dub again, and she doesn’t think she can feel more alive than at this moment.