Work Text:
Chaeryeong stood in front of the painting, her eyes trailing over the wings of a fallen angel. It felt familiar, yet slightly vague. The memory was hazy, but the feeling always lingered.
She shoved her hands into her pockets, her fingers stiff from the cold weather. Chaeryeong had always hated winter, especially as it was the opposite of summer. That time in summer, she stood in place of her present self. But she wasn't alone then.
This fallen angel in front of her, made from oils, reminded her of her. In fact, every painting in this building reminded her of her.
Perhaps it wasn’t the paintings. Maybe it was just the memory.
It was a casual date. They had one every second Saturday. They went out and did something fun, something small. The magnificence didn’t matter to Chaeryeong. She only cared that she got to spend time with her.
Even years in, she treasured every moment. She read once that it was silly, that normally you’d stop feeling butterflies in your stomach after a while. For Chaeryeong, it didn’t stop.
Only, it did, eventually.
It definitely did when Ryujin stood before her, asking for space. To tell the truth, it made her stomach feel empty, hollow. It made everything inside her feel empty. Her stomach, her throat, her mind, her heart… Everything.
Except, even now, the thought of Ryujin made her feel… At peace.
Every now and then, she would wonder how she’s doing. She wondered if she had gotten a new piercing, if she had dyed her hair a different colour. She wondered if she had been obsessing over a new movie like she used to every other week. She wondered if she, herself, had ever crossed her mind.
The probability was high, but was it of importance like it was to Chaeryeong?
Did she ever go to the museums and cafes they used to go to together? Did she ever accidentally order Chaeryeong’s go-to when she stood before a barista? Did she ever whisper her name before she fell asleep at night?
Those calls always got lost in the darkness of her silent room. Not lonely, but alone with the one from the night before. As they got lost without her, Chaeryeong was the one that felt lonely. How dare they leave her in this black hole of a bed?
That painting was the last they talked about together, the last they imitated together, the last they had so much fun together.
Now, she’s standing in front of it alone, unlike two years ago. The warmth wasn’t the same. Not just because it was summer then and winter now, but because she wasn't talking about the oils with Ryujin, she wasn’t imitating the face together, she wasn’t having fun with her.
Blinking out of her thoughts, she stares at the painting, almost with a sprinkle of sadness in her eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat and played with the ring on her finger, her hands now in the cold air again.
She breathed out, the sound heavy.
In her peripheral vision, someone stood beside her. It was weird, she thought. She could normally feel someone’s presence when they’re so close. Especially when it was hers.
Chaeryeong’s head turned and there she was, in the flesh, as she believed.
Ryujin’s dangly earrings shimmered in the light. Her hair was the same length as she remembered, her wired earphones were the same as she remembered. On her bag was the keyring Chaeryeong bought her on their very first date together.
The girl’s head turned a second later, their eyes immediately locking.
Those eyes, they’re familiar.
It’s winter now, but her eyes still have the same warmth that I used to look forward to seeing every day. That I still look forward to seeing.
Like her fuzzy memory, Ryujin disappeared in a blink, leaving her alone again. Chaeryeong pressed her lips together, suddenly feeling sick.
Of course. She stands as an illusion that was once real to me.
She used to tell me that we would be forever. But it wasn’t her and I until the end after all.
It's just I and just her, separate. I’m still afraid, so why won’t she come back to me?