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A hand on a knob, thumb on the fingerprint detector to unlock a haven that has seen its occupant’s life journey for many years now. From the first year of uni filled with determination and academic goals, to current times that has always reeked of either instant noodles or hastily brewed long blacks. After three beeps accompanied with a small blue light that flashes also three times, the door unlocks, revealing a somewhat not-really neat but homey apartment. It has lost its spark just a slight for almost a year now, but what it is now still make do.
Its loyal tenant begrudgingly drags her sore feet across the front door, hanging her car keys by the key and coat hanger next to the front door table and turns on the light from the switch next to the hanger, then scrambles toward the couch, eager to not have to use her half-dead (it’s just cramps from sitting on a working chair for too long) legs that she put through the hell of the day (it’s just a regular nine to five work schedule). As her backside touchdowns the fluffy side of her grey couch, a satisfied groan escapes her lips. Tired neck leans back onto the equally fluffy backrest, tired pair of eyes closes because of too bright lights.
Her mind still thinks in old rhythm, how exactly seconds after this, there should be a cup of warm barley tea ready on the marble island tabletop.
But realization hits only when dreams feel a little too real, so Jiwoo opens her eyes to stop anticipating a routine that probably would never happen again.
It’s been some time that she has stayed in this apartment, a gift from her parents when she got accepted to the most prestigious university in the country. It’s not like her hometown is at the furthest part of the country with hundreds of kilometers away and she’s being sent away like a soldier going for war, but it does take significant time, a five hour drive to at least get to the city where she studies. The most convenient solution is to stay at a place closer, and thankfully her mom and dad picked one that takes only twenty minutes to get to uni by car.
Jiwoo is the definition of discipline, being a student model since seventh grade. She’s used to all the types of school bustle, having been juggling the many in-betweens since six years old. Ballet practices and after-school lessons, then comes a brief obsession with volleyball all throughout junior high and high school, also boxing and gym sessions with her brother sometimes on the side when she’s looking to fill in the hardly ever empty gaps in her Google calendar.
But that’s just who Choi Jiwoo is, always something to do at every crevice of her day. Even graduated high school with the highest SAT scores the school has ever recorded, got in everyone’s favorite uni and top major, all that is just like a regular Tuesday for her. Truly built like a ruthless, non-feeling machine ready to take over the world with her terminators if she does think like artificial intelligence as her friends always tease her about.
However, Jiwoo happens to have feelings, after all. Realized that a little too abruptly when somebody bumps her table when she was scribbling notes in the library. A girl that looks, and eventually found out that she is, her age with wide eyes and a hesitant smile. A rushed apology was blurted out, said girl had both hands clasped together in forgiveness for making Jiwoo smudge her tidy notes because her clumsy self had trudged towards the sharp corner–her side felt that–of the table Jiwoo sat in.
While it is not that rare to find Jiwoo dumbfounded, she zones out a lot when there’s too much to think about, but this one is different. Her jaw is not slack because her blue ink pen collides with the purple ones on her notes–there was once a time where something so trivial would cause her to rage-rip away a page or two–, but because of this unique being that was only in front of her for a couple of seconds, then walking away very quickly. That girl stayed in Jiwoo’s mind for a while, not too much until Jiwoo couldn’t concentrate on anything else, but just enough that it lingered idly on the corner of her brain like a forgotten reminder.
A couple of weeks later, Jiwoo went out for coffee with some friends from her childhood ballet club. Jiwoo sat down at a table for four, opting to sit down and scroll on her notes app instead–even during leisure time, she brought her work iPad with her–while her friends went to order. When Jiwoo decided that there wasn’t anything interesting enough on the screen that caught her attention, she reverted her gaze towards her friends peeking at the pastry fridge. And from the corner of her eyes, there she saw her again. The same girl that bumped into her was there by the counter.
And for a slight second, their eyes met. Very briefly. Jiwoo wouldn’t even say that they did, the girl looked away just as quickly. Jiwoo kept her cool, but that very image of this girl from the library came back ashore instantaneously and kept annoying her like a blaring alarm. Even until Jiwoo’s friends came sitting down at their table while cracking jokes about funny cake names, Jiwoo’s mind strayed still.
Only did she finally awake from her trance when a plate was placed in front of her by a waiter, garnering curious looks from her friends, because all of their orders had already arrived. Haram, Jiwoo’s longest childhood best friend, asked the waiter if there was a mistake in the system, because obviously Choi Jiwoo does not eat triple chocolate pancakes with rainbow sprinkles. The waiter said briefly that it was an order made by a girl who came earlier, was told to prepare the most recommended pancakes menu, write something on the plate and send it to the short haired girl sitting on the table by the window.
When Jiwoo paid attention to the plate, there was a chocolate sauce writing underneath the pancakes. It said, ‘so sorry for ruining your notes the other day :(, here’s a peace offering!‘. That was the first time Jiwoo finished a plate of triple chocolate pancakes with rainbow sprinkles.
But then it seems like destiny loves a good giggle, playing games with two strangers who wouldn't have collided at all if it wasn’t for fate. Jiwoo bumped into the girl again–a couple days after that free pancakes incident–in the library, again. Jiwoo was browsing through the anime comics bookshelf, when somebody bumped her shoulder because she was too focused on her phone and she didn’t pay attention to her surroundings. Jiwoo caught the phone sliding away from the girl’s hands, and their eyes finally met properly for the first time. Jiwoo swore she saw sparkles like stars into those bright, wide eyes.
The girl smiled albeit timidly, head bowed a little, “it seems like we keep bumping to each other, literally,” she tried to joke. Jiwoo cracked a small smile, returning the phone back to its rightful owner, but the girl had her hand offered towards Jiwoo already. The latter had a brief confusion before looking back at those pretty eyes.
The girl shrugged, but Jiwoo can see the faintest of blushes on her apple cheeks, “it would’ve been rude of me to do otherwise,” her hand then extended further in front of Jiwoo, “my name is Carmen.”
Jiwoo needed two seconds to reboot, and then reciprocated the hand that was offered to her, “Jiwoo.”
And just like that, the two became as close as two peas in a pod. On the same day, Jiwoo had already known Carmen’s major (she’s studying international business management, like her older sister did), what year is she in (she’s Jiwoo’s age, only six months older), and where she’s from (she’s an aspiring student from the beautiful island of Bali, Indonesia). It was the first time in her life Jiwoo got to know somebody so quickly, it was like a rapid fire quiz contest. But Carmen made it so easy, like getting to know her was so much like breathing.
The next time Jiwoo saw her was when she invited Carmen to join a study session with her friends–the same people from the cafe. Carmen was ecstatic, also brought a friend of her own–her dorm roommate who’s a year younger from the same major. Jiwoo’s friends are just like her; straightforward, analytic, reserved. But that day, it was the first time in Jiwoo’s life had she seen Haram and Jueun so invested in laughter at everything Carmen and Stella, Carmen’s roommate, said. And before she herself knew, a smile crept up Jiwoo’s lips, and Carmen was the first to notice.
They became one big friend group, weekly study sessions and the occasional day or night out here and there to keep the equilibrium. Sometimes they have sleepovers over at Carmen and Stella’s dorm room, because it’s spacious enough to fit five people. Sometimes they go out on spontaneous trips like to the aquarium or the beach or a pretty cottage-core cafe, because it’s refreshing to get out of the usual uni buzz yet calm and sensible enough for Jiwoo–and sometimes Haram and Jueun–to study in between.
It gets to a point where Haram and Stella are practically attached to the hip, and then Jueun would also get free English tutoring from the Canadian every weekend, and it’s odd if one is absent when the five of them get together. It’s like Jiwoo, Haram, and Jueun get their energy from Carmen and Stella’s antics, and the two rely so much to be anchored by the other three. It’s the perfect balance of two opposite sides of personality.
But the (friendship? ambiguous situation? not-yet but almost, just there?) bond between Jiwoo and Carmen, it’s somewhat inexplicable. It’s discreet, but not yet intimate enough to call it something else, it’s like it’s just, present.
Jiwoo isn’t so sure if two of her best friends notice, but it’s different when it’s just her and Carmen. They don’t spend time with just the two of them as much as Haram and Stella or Jueun and Stella would, but every time they do, Jiwoo has her hands so clammy and she starts scratching at parts that aren’t even itchy, that it gets cutely awkward sometimes. Like Jiwoo lost the ability to think rationally, to speak, to breathe, to be. It’s only something that occurs whenever she’s with Carmen.
They don’t talk that much when it’s the five of them there, but Jiwoo knows as much as Carmen’s childhood fear, confessed during one time they go on a convenience store run before a sleepover, buried dreams and guilty favorite snacks when she yap too much about it one day at a study session and no one else was listening, list of to-binge movies that she admitted timidly one evening when it’s just the two of them at the library.
They don’t talk much but they call sometimes, it started when Jiwoo had left her hoodie at Carmen’s place after she and Haram slept over because it was too stormy to drive home and Jiwoo was wondering when Carmen would be at her place so that she could pick it up. It wasn’t supposed to last hours–Jiwoo never calls anyone more than thirty minutes–, but Jiwoo ended up listening to Carmen talk about her obsession with guessing games like crosswords. And so it became a routine, every night when they haven’t seen each other and both are just too restless to sleep without listening to each other’s voices.
They don’t interact, but Jiwoo still remembers that one time Carmen rested her head on her shoulder when she decided to come over because Stella had left to spend the entire week with her visiting parents. She still remembers that one time Carmen cooked her breakfast because Jiwoo fell asleep on her couch, effectively staying the night. She still remembers the time she sneaked to intertwine her fingers with Carmen under the covers when the five of them were watching a horror movie during a sleepover.
They don’t–and probably would never–talk about it, but Jiwoo still remembers the time Carmen was snuggled all over her when she came over Jiwoo’s apartment because she was curious to see her place but eventually stayed over. Jiwoo still remembers the smell of Carmen’s shampoo when they went out to gaze at the stars at a park near Jiwoo’s place just the two of them. Jiwoo still remembers the feel of silky soft lips when Carmen leaned in as they were hunched up at their favorite secluded spot in the library, and the year after that when Jiwoo was finally brave enough to make the first move under a mistletoe at a cafe just outside of uni.
The most vivid memory of it all, how pretty Carmen’s eyes look every time.
They don’t talk, nor do they talk about the things they do when it’s just the two of them. Jiwoo assumed–and still does– that it’s unnecessary, let it be a secret that only the two of them share.
But there’s a liability to non-communication, and Jiwoo felt it moments after she, Haram, Jueun and Stella were at the airport a day after the graduation of class 2025, sending Carmen off to go back home. Just then she realized that she won’t, probably ever, see Carmen again.
And all those unspoken feelings and lingering touches that only Jiwoo spoke in, won’t ever get to be translated into something Carmen would understand that it was never just, nothing.
And so deep in her thoughts, a little bit drunk on lethargy, present time Jiwoo impulsively dials a foreign number that she only saw when she saved it but had never got back to. Until now.
Jiwoo feels the surge of regret right until the second ring, almost about to press the red phone symbol because rationality finally gets the best of her, but then it stops ringing. Because the other end of the line had just picked up.
“Hello?”
Jiwoo swears she’s never exhaled so much air before, just one word and she’s crumbling down to parts, even though she’s sitting down. She keeps her vision up at the blinding lights of her ceiling, depriving her sense of sight to heighten the others.
Because if she can’t see Carmen now, then maybe at least she could feel her presence all over her by the sound of her heavenly voice, like a forgotten warm blanket.
Another, “hello?” from the other side of the line awakens Jiwoo from her daze, voice so dreamy it sends Jiwoo to oblivion for some seconds. The latter clears her throat slightly, then opens her mouth but does not immediately make a sound.
“Hi,” was the most Jiwoo could muster. A giggle reverberates from the other side of the call, and Jiwoo takes it in like oxygen.
“Did you press call without thinking again?” It wasn't an accusation, or something coming out as malice. It was an assumption made correct, because Jiwoo is a guessing game Carmen is a master of.
The giggle is contagious so Jiwoo does too, all tense and nerves dissipates at each syllable of laughter coming across the call, “how do you know?”
“You do that all the time,” Jiwoo can as if see Carmen shrugging her shoulders, that typical smug attitude she has on every time she guesses something right, “back in the days too.”
Jiwoo fidgets with the straps of her backpack next to her, the words Carmen spoke tastes like warm honey, the one that cures a sticky sore throat and makes her breathe easy again.
“You remember?” The short haired girl whispers as if someone might hear of their secret.
But Carmen doesn’t immediately answer, and Jiwoo can hear a slight ruckus from the other side, like maybe she’s switching to a more comfortable position–or maybe to brace herself from impact–as she says, “you keep me guessing.”
Jiwoo might actually tear up, just a couple exchanges of sentences with her (she won’t ever admit it) favorite person and she feels like she’s living again.
Old Jiwoo, pre-uni Jiwoo would never fall for spontaneity. She can enjoy stuff out of the usual routine, but her life is always in order. And she likes it like that. It’s easier to manage, easier to control. She memorizes every schedule like it’s primary school math, every pattern like it’s written at the back of her hand.
But after Carmen came crashing into her life and made a comfortable spot in her heart, Jiwoo deep down knew that there wouldn’t ever be coming back to what life used to be like without her. She now longs for unplanned night drives, impromptu hiking trips just because the Indonesian needed to get some fresh air, the sound of divine laughter filling her apartment when they cook something together and failing afterwards.
Carmen built and held that spark for Jiwoo and her home and herself and her personality and her everything, and when she left to go reach her own dreams, she brought that spark away with her.
“Is something up?”
It’s unfair how Carmen always knows, especially what is with Jiwoo.
Jiwoo shakily answers, “uhm, uhh–, no–it’s nothing.”
Another giggle sends a shiver down Jiwoo’s spine, the effect the other girl has on her is astounding, so much worth a research.
“Okay,” is what Carmen settles with, not wanting to probe Jiwoo further. But Jiwoo wouldn’t let the conversation die just like that, she had mustered too much courage to just stop at greeting pleasantries.
“How, uhm–, how are you?” Jiwoo smacks her forehead for stuttering, a detrimental habit of hers of getting nervous around pretty women (just Carmen, really).
“Great,” Carmen replies almost too immediately, but then after a beat she continues, “been busy, work and life and such,” Jiwoo nods along, listening intently. Then another word comes out from the girl on the other line, “you?”
Jiwoo shifts to lift her legs off the floor, folding them to sit on, “same,” she says.
A chuckle slips, then a question follows, “still as busy as always?”
“Well yeah, I mean–,” Jiwoo scratches at her nape, the nerves getting the best of her it seems, “I'd say it’s just like the old days but with different things, y'know?”
Even after almost a year has passed, Carmen still remembers. What Jiwoo does, how her day would go, how to make her nervous with perfectly curated sentences.And Carmen does the latter effortlessly, like she’s unaware of what power she has over Jiwoo.
But Jiwoo does fold every time, willingly, wholeheartedly, without a doubt.
“Right, new friends?” Carmen inquires, voice dragging a little.
Jiwoo hums, “apart from work friends, the only new friend I made is Haram’s girlfriend, so not really,” well, Jiwoo has never been a social butterfly anyway. The only time she’s made friends as a consenting adult was Carmen, and then in effect Stella. But she’s not so sure what she is with Carmen is something to be called friends, after all. A tiny, hopeful, scandalously irrational bit of her heart wishes the other girl feels the same thing too.
“Oh yeah!” Jiwoo jumps–and so does her heart because she misses these tiny squeals of excitement she used to hear every ten minutes whenever Jiwoo is in her proximity–, “Jueunie told me about Haramie’s new girl, a classmate of hers, she said.”
Oh. That one perks Jiwoo, as she sits upwards almost instantly. The sparks feel like it’s changing rhythm but still just as loud in her ears, and Jiwoo can’t exactly name what the hell is this feeling pounding in her chest right now. So she gathers her thoughts, trying to structure the most nonchalant, not-at all suspecting sentence ever.
“You talk with Jueun?”
Lame, super lame. Jiwoo physically winces at impact.
“Uhm, sometimes,” Carmen answers, and guilt creeps up Jiwoo’s neck upon hearing the tentative tone Carmen offers, “we call. With Haram and Stella too. Especially Stella, she would hunt me down if I ever so much as forgot to text her even for a day.”
Oh, to hear her favorite (only) girl ramble about everything and nothing at the same time in the span of minutes in person again. To see her pout at every minor inconvenience, but she doesn’t mean the complaints she mutters because in seconds she’d be smiling so widely again, to be able to pinch those apple cheeks whenever her girl would stop talking altogether every time she puts food in her mouth when moments before she excitingly was in the middle of telling mundane stories of her everyday happenings.
Truthfully, the group chat is still on, the one that has all five of them from their glory days. Even now Jiwoo thinks there’s a new member in it, Haram’s girlfriend Yuna, but Jiwoo has yet to check. She’s not really the texting type anyway. Evident in the way she prefers to call people, like she used to call Carmen every night to help stir the exhaustion away, or the way twenty minutes ago she speed-dials her without a second thought because she misses her anchor.
So actually, there are available outlets for Jiwoo to contact Carmen, at least not so out of the blue. Or even to know what her other friends are up to, what they talk about, what plans they arrange and promise to make true.
But Jiwoo’s not really to blame, she can’t ever talk or think completely whenever Carmen’s involved.
“Right,” Jiwoo mumbles, and then the minutes pass by kind of leads to concluding this late-night conversation, until–
“And you?”
Now that takes Jiwoo aback, her reeled back head jolts back up, curious as to what is this question leading to, “uhh, what about?”
“Well, Haramie’s got a girlfriend,” Carmen starts, Jiwoo can feel her hesitation before continuing, “Jueunie is seeing someone from a dance club if i remember correctly, and Stella is typically off in her own world.”
Oh. It leads to that direction.
“What about you?”
Okay. Here is everything that can go wrong with answering this question.
First and foremost, Jiwoo in definition is single. But of course she has her moments of loosening up, ever since most of her friends always tease her of becoming a robotic entity that knows no human feelings. One time, she went out with somebody from her calculus class back in the day, but it didn’t even go past the second date. She is still in touch with her occasionally, though obviously there aren't enough interactions nor affection up until now (and most possibly forever, ever) to call what they have as something more than just acquaintances. Jiwoo is still too stuck in her memories to move on and find someone else.
But to admit that candidly? and to Carmen, of all people? God, take her now. It was so much trouble (of endless teasing) to admit it to Haram, and then Jueun also had the same reactions, just a little bit softer. How then would the girl she lowkey highkey still have feelings for react? Jiwoo is done for.
And it’s not about the ‘seeing somebody else’ part, because as painful as it is for Jiwoo to admit that to Carmen, Jiwoo knew the latter would understand. Even if there is a one in a million chance she did ever feel the same for what’s going on with them back then, she would accept it because that’s just the kind of person the Indonesian is. Carmen would then probably encourage Jiwoo to see people more. To get out there and get a good grasp of what being human feels like, because Jiwoo deserves to catch a break every now and then and enjoy the riches she has made for herself.
However, that's besides the point, because how on earth does Jiwoo tell her that the reason she hasn’t opened up her heart to anyone is because it still has the shape of the same wide eyed girl that bumped her table at the library almost five years ago?
“Uhm, well–,” Jiwoo is scratching her head for the nth time in the past half an hour. Turns out there is a succumbence to the great and poised Jiwoo, after all.
Jiwoo is kind of waiting for Carmen to interrupt and sway the topic away from this dangerous zone, but not one sound is squeaked out of the other line. It figures, really. Carmen is always so polite to wait for other people to finish speaking, so Jiwoo takes a figurative leap of faith.
“There isn’t anyone.”
Not since you, no one but you, and there probably won't ever be anyone after you. Is what Jiwoo would say instead if she wasn’t herself, maybe if she chugged a bottle of wine or five prior to this conversation. But for now, those three words are the best she could express without going about and digging her own grave out of embarrassment.
Jiwoo closes her eyes in anticipation–or rather, in catastrophization–, when she hears an intake of breath from the other side of the line.
“Well, that’s–, uhm,” Carmen stutters, and Jiwoo bites her tongue as she braces.
“I’m glad,” is what Carmen finally slips out, both unconsciously exhaling at the same time, “to hear that, I mean.”
“Okay,” Jiwoo closes, not sure what else to say. Again, what is this feeling thumping her heart like it’s squeezing the life out of it? It’s suffocating, but it’s liberating all at the same time. Jiwoo has studied so many things in this world, but this is something she has absolutely no idea of, never has she encountered a situation like this. Even as she’s feeling it she’s perplexed, what of having to put it into words–
“Is that weird?” A squeak coming out of her phone is what slaps Jiwoo out of her brief reverie. It seems that her habit to zone out has evolved into incorporating words in its endless train of thoughts.
“No,” Jiwoo says without missing a beat. She almost blurts out something like, ‘I’d wait forever as long as it’s you,’ but before her mouth betrays her, she holds back and says instead, “that’s not weird at all.”
Then silence follows. The kind that calms your nerves, that puts you to ease after a loud case of overthinking. Maybe Jiwoo would ask Carmen back. How she’s been, how’s life wherever she is, who holds her at night when she’s tired, whose calls she waits every night and now has to give away for Jiwoo’s call on impulse.
Jiwoo is curious about a lot of things, which explains her drive to learn, learn, and learn nonstop ever since she was a child. But at this moment, she figures that ignorance sometimes is bliss.
So she opts to ask this instead.
“Would you, uhm, would there be–uhh, would I be able to–uhm–see you, maybe anytime soon, or just again?”
Albeit awkwardly, totally not like the cool image Jiwoo puts up most of the time. But at least it garners a cute laugh out of her favorite girl, and Jiwoo cracks a smile too even with the pink heat in her face.
“I’ll be flying by for Haramie’s and Stella’s graduation, silly, don't you read the group chat?” Carmen asks not because doesn’t know priorly, but because she knows already and she asks to tease the short haired girl.
“Uhm,” Jiwoo breathes out a chuckle, “I don't check my phone at all sometimes,” Jiwoo is all putty wrapped around her pretty fingers, and she knows very well what Carmen is doing, “but okay, I get the memo now.”
“Why’d you ask?” Jiwoo can almost imagine the prettiest, most beautiful face cocked to the side, cutely asking a question to which answer she knows exactly well already.
Because I miss you, would be the most correct answer. Because I can’t wait to see you again, is what her heart screams in silence. Because you’re always in my mind, and I know I never express it up until now, but I adore you still and I never stop wishing you’re here with me instead, is what she yearns, aches to tell her girl for as long as this feeling has grown in every inch of her being.
But Jiwoo walks, not skips while humming a favorite tune like Carmen does, so she answers with something so Jiwoo-like, like, “I don't know, I just–.”
Nevertheless, Carmen understands perfectly.
“Okay,” as soft as feathers is Carmen's voice, mirroring Jiwoo’s answer just a couple of minutes ago, when the former was speaking out of her own inhibition herself. As if she’s trying to say that she gets her, just as Jiwoo gets Carmen perfectly too.
Jiwoo smiles a faint, the type that only has been created at the time she caught a phone in her hands after the pretty face bumped her shoulder in the library. And only has been reserved for the same person ever since.
And then a yawn follows, so very adorably, so much that Jiwoo instantly gets cuteness aggression that goes warm all over her chest and lungs. But then, Jiwoo kind of realizes something.
“Wait,” Jiwoo sits up and asks, “did I disturb you in your sleep or something?”
Carmen laughs, something so infectious that Jiwoo couldn’t help but also crack a smile a little, but still just as worried, “no, not really. But I was about to when you called, actually, it’s almost 2am where I am right now.”
Right, Jiwoo is a total idiot for forgetting something so trivial yet significantly important especially at times like this, timezones. She facepalms her forehead hard, and maybe Carmen heard and knew what she did so she laughs even more as Jiwoo says, “right, I’m sorry, I forgot about that.”
“It’s okay, it's nice to hear you again,” Carmen says sweetly, tone filled with saccharine and drowsiness.
“Glad to know you’re still alive.”
And cue another facepalm moment, because Jiwoo rarely ever updates her life that even her friends thought she’s run away and faked a new identity or something. Even Haram, who she sees more than she sees her mom–and she only sees her mom once every couple months–sometimes knocks on her door just to make sure she’s still living and breathing and well, then gives her a good whoop for not answering her texts and calls for days on end.
“Right, sorry about that.”
Another giggle vibrates through the phone, “don’t be, I like the suspense.”
“Of not hearing from me for almost a year?” Jiwoo snorts, and Carmen laughs again. Everything the stoic and pragmatic Jiwoo does somehow tickles Carmen's funny bone.
“I’m sure you have your reasons,” always the ever considering sweetheart, Jiwoo thinks she doesn't deserve this angel. Another wave of guilt gets to her, building an uncomfortable lump at the back of her throat. It is kind of backhanded to miss somebody but make no effort to reach out.
“I’ll do better,” Jiwoo speaks after she gulps, her tone softer than the usual icy blast. Like her faint smile and almost everything else she’s done out of endearment for Carmen, it is reserved for her one and only.
And Jiwoo can as if see the smile she feels Carmen is sporting. The girl is always smiling, but she’s smart enough to know that there is also one that Carmen only shows when it’s just the two of them, and she truly hopes that it is something that only she sees.
“I’d never doubt it.”
Jiwoo thinks that it’s contradicting to have called Carmen this late at night because she was too tired to think straight, and now she comes away from it feeling all energized. Just hearing the melodic voice that she has been deprived of for almost a year has done wonders, recharging her battery to the max that she feels like she doesn’t want to sleep anymore now.
But then comes another yawn from the other side of the phone, and Jiwoo realizes that Carmen, who is not exactly a night person, needs her beauty sleep now. Not that she needs it to look pretty, it’s been established since the first day they met that she looks ethereal no matter what condition she is in.
Then Jiwoo would have to settle with the fact that they’ll see each other in person soon enough, that they’ll talk in person soon enough, to make up for lost time.
And she absolutely cannot wait until that day comes.
“Well then, I'll leave to your own devices then, get some sleep and all,” Jiwoo speaks, voice trailing a tad to add more precious seconds just to bask in the existence of being in one telecommunication line with her favorite person.
But Jiwoo was raised to not be greedy, to be patient and understand that precious things take time to mold and eventually be obtained. Like her four-year long situationship with Carmen, maybe there is a pot of gold at the end of the tunnel after all, even if it means having to wait for another couple of years more. Like her long awaited reunion with Carmen, as much as Jiwoo wishes she can just fly to wherever Carmen is and spend all the time in this world with her girl, even if it means sacrificing all the hard work she’s done ever since she was a child–so much for being discipline, one overdue phone call with dearest and she swears she’ll drop everything all too willingly. But Jiwoo takes a deep breath, Carmen said so herself that she’ll see her again when it’s time–Haram and Stella’s graduation in a couple of months–, so that’ll suffice for now. Hang in there, Jiwoo.
“Good night, Carmen.”
Carmen is still there on the other side, waiting. Like she always does for Jiwoo.
“Good night, Jiwoo,” another yawn emerges, but that cute voice returns just as quick, “let’s keep in touch more.”
Jiwoo giggles, replies devotedly, “okay, have a good sleep.”
“You too, bye.” Then the phone beeps, the call disconnected.
And just like that, Jiwoo’s head leans back and arm finally drops beside her, finally feeling the paresthesia. But the little tug of her lips stays, and the lights on her ceiling don't feel as blinding anymore. Instead, the lights resemble the spark that once went away because Carmen carried it home with her, and now it reignites as warmth in Jiwoo’s apartment.
It should only be a couple of months, and Jiwoo has waited so much longer than just that–almost five years. Just to be able to hear the sound of that laughter again. Just to be able to touch her soft hands again. Just to be able to kiss her velvety lips again. Just thoughts of them, and as Jiwoo casts another longing glance at her chat screen that displays their phone call bubble, that’s enough reason to go on until she can see Carmen in the flesh again.
And so Jiwoo will wait, then.