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She’s on a trip, Wheein remembers, or they tell her, she doesn’t know.
She shivers, and hugs the shawl tighter around her body. It feels uncharacteristically cold this winter, although she doesn’t quite remember last year’s. Definitely colder than two years ago.
Two years, that’s the last time Byulyi visited her. They spent most of that winter huddled between blankets and channel surfing and watching reruns of their favorite dramas. She remembers Byulyi’s breath on her near frosted ears whenever they went outdoors, her whispers warming her body better than any modern heat source.
And just like last winter, Wheein waits. Persists, ignores the look on Hyejin’s face because, well she knows what it means. Just like she knows why Yongsun cuts Hyejin off sometimes when she gets frustrated.
Pity is a luxury, Wheein thinks. It’s what’s leftover when you’ve abandoned all hope. It’s easy, and doesn’t disappoint, and never ever fights back.
The door creaks open. She doesn’t turn around.
“That’s a nice perfume Yongsun unnie.”
“Thanks,” the girl maneuvers towards the window where Wheein was sitting, clipboard in hand. “It’s a new scent I’ve been trying.”
“Ah,” she notes, and watches as Yongsun pulls up a chair next to her.
“How are you feeling today?”
“Good, I think,” she answers. “A bit cold.”
“The heaters are always a mess,” Yongsun laughs, not that dolphin one, the nervous one she usually reserves for her other patients. “They’ve been talking about hiring a contractor for years. Bureaucracy. ”
It makes Wheein on edge, the laugh. “What’s up, you’re not usually here this late.”
Yongsun sighs, and Wheein notices how her fingers tighten around her clipboard.
“There’s…something new we want to try,” she words carefully. “It’s a sort of experimental treatment that we think will help…progress things along.”
And it’s almost a breath of relief, because God knows Wheein’s heard those words a million times.
“But we need to take you off your current treatment,” she continues. “Everything needs to be cleared out of your system before we start the new one.”
“Same old, same old, I guess,” Wheein replies, unenthused.
Yongsun frowns, and Wheein wants to reach out and uncrease her brow for her. “It’s serious Wheein. You’ve been taking these meds for a while now and we don’t know exactly what’ll happen if we take you off them now. It’s very possible you’ve developed a dependency on them.”
It doesn’t matter. Yongsun and Hyejin have been trying to fix her for years (help, Yongsun corrects and Wheein pretends to agree). And honestly, Wheein doesn’t really know what for. Sure her memory’s a bit spotty and maybe she’s a little depressed, but it’s nothing some rest and anti-depressants won’t fix.
“It’ll be fine,” she says, and Yongsun nods. Still the frown, Wheein notices.
“Anyways, is Hyejin busy lately?” she tries for casual but it comes out more desperate than she’d like.
“Yeah, she uh,” Yongsun looks to her, almost searching for an answer on her face and Wheein almost laughs at the irony. “It’s hard for her.”
“It’s okay. I know what she’d say anyways.”
She’s not coming back, Byulyi’s gone, is what Hyejin would say, and she repeats it over and over during every visit (I’ll repeat it as many times as you need to hear it, she says) and sometimes Wheein almost believes it. It’s been two years, after all.
“Is she wrong?” Yongsun asks, quietly.
Wheein stares at her.
“I need some fresh air.”
The facility was built near a lake, one Wheein frequents often. She finds it therapeutic, the serenity of the atmosphere and staring into the still and dead waters.
Sometimes Yongsun joins her during her lunch break, and they’d talk about their day. It was mostly Yongsun doing all the talking but Wheein didn’t mind; she liked hearing about the different oddities and frustrations associated with each patient. She laughs a lot, during these times, more than she normally does, and sometimes she thinks part of this is for her benefit. Yongsun, checking in regularly to make sure she’s okay.
Hyejin doesn’t like the lake. They usually stay inside during her visits and whenever Wheein asks her why she hates it so much she’ll just shrug and give a noncommittal answer like, it’s probably stewing with bacteria.
Wheein doesn’t get it. Hyejin loved the beach, loved getting her feet wet. They used to go all the time, the four of them. Hyejin and Yongsun would fill the picnic basket while Byulyi and Wheein raced for dibs on riding shotgun. Some days, if she closed her eyes, she swears she could taste the salt in the air.
But the memories of them on the beach, like all the others, were hazy at best. She’ll remember pieces here and then, and then she’ll wake up one day and wonder if she’d actually dreamed it all.
There’s one thing she remembers. Byulyi told her something then, something important.
She wants to remember so much it’s killing her.
Things she does remember: Yongsun having recently graduated med school. Or as she puts it, no longer deadass broke. She’s also Wheein’s doctor.
Hyejin’s no longer doing music. Who needs a career when we’ve got royalties, she snorts. Wheein frowns and reminds her how much she loves music and she just shrugs. Doesn’t look her in the eyes.
“I can’t sing songs that aren’t written by you,” she mumbles.
That’s right, Wheein used to be a composer. Award winning. The fatal duo, or so penned by the music industry. Wheein and Hyejin, taking the nation by storm.
Oh and Byulyi. She used to love her.
It’s a Tuesday when Byulyi returns.
She’s making her regular round to the lake when she sees her. It’s only her back but Wheein already feels a lump forming in her throat.
“Is that…” she croaks out, so softly that she thought no one heard her.
But Byuyli turns her head and smiles at the sight of her. Her legs are moving before she even registers it. The embrace is warm, molting even, and Wheein thinks it appropriate. Like moths to a flame.
“I’m missed you,” it’s muffled but audible and Byulyi laughs. It’s so crisp and close and Wheein wants to just bottle it up and play it forever.
Hand strumming through her hair, arm around her waist, Wheein feels like home.
“I’ve missed you too,” Byulyi whispers, and Wheein spots the emotion in her voice despite her practiced restraint.
She hugs her tighter and doesn’t let go.
There’s a lot to catch up on. It’s been two years after all. They talk about how adult Yongsun has become. An actual doctor who saves lives and shit. Back then, she could barely keep her Tamagotchi pet alive, Byulyi laughs.
“Sometimes I forget how long you’ve known her,” Wheein says absentmindedly, finding interest in Byulyi’s hair. Was it always this soft or had she just forgotten in their time apart.
“It feels like there wasn’t a moment that I didn’t know her. She was always there, even in my earliest memories,” Byulyi sighs. She shifts slightly so it’s not only her head that’s in Wheein’s lap, but the upper part of her torso as well. ”Anyways, what about your other half? How’s Hyejin doing?”
“Good, she’s just,” Wheein hesitates. “She’s just worried about me. I keep telling her that I’m fine but she just, I don’t know. She worries too much I guess.”
“She cares about you,” Byulyi points out, poking at her dimple, giggling when Wheein cracks a smile.
“So do you,” Wheein adds.
“She’s there for you every day of the year and I’m—“
And they’ve arrived at the gargantuan elephant in the room. Honestly, Wheein would have been perfectly happy sidestepping it altogether but the door was wide open now and it’s taking everything not to slam it in her face.
And maybe Byulyi senses this too because she turns on her side, back facing Wheein.
“You could have come sooner,” Wheein speaks first. Does that sound bitter? She’s not sure. After all, it wasn’t resentment that kept her tethered to this world for two years. It was hope.
She can’t see her face, and maybe that’s a blessing. All Byulyi ever had to do was ask and Wheein would give. It’s always been that way and if Byulyi had asked her for forgiveness, she would have given it in a heartbeat.
Instead, Byulyi reaches for Wheein’s hand and presses a gentle kiss against the center of her palm.
“I’m here now.”
“Don’t tell them. Not yet.”
“Why not?” Wheein frowns. The day had almost passed before she realized that she should probably tell Yongsun that about Byulyi’s return.
“I’m not…ready yet,” she pauses. “It’s been so long.”
“Yongsun’s your best friend, she’ll understand,” Wheein reassures her. “And Hyejin, she’ll get over it.”
“I just…can you wait?” she asks. No, pleads. “Can we keep this our secret for now?”
“Uh, okay but are you just gonna play hide and seek whenever Yongsun and Hyejin are around?” Wheein asks quizzically.
Byulyi laughs and Wheein’s honestly lost count of the number of times that sound’s made her shiver today.
“Fun fact. I’ve never lost at that game.”
“I remember now.”
“Remember what?” Byulyi asks, arching her left brow. They’ve swung by Wheein’s favorite spot by the lake.
“That time, what you said to me at the beach,” Wheein says slowly. It’s flooding back to her all at once and it’s hard to put the pieces in order. “You told me I was a ripple.”
“Did I?” Byulyi kicks at a pebble near the lake’s edge, but it doesn’t budge.
“You said, before I met you, my life had arrived at an impasse. Still, like this lake for example,” Wheein gestures to the water. “You thought I was a ripple in your life, that I was the current that pushed you past that blockade.”
“Sounds like something I would say,” Byulyi replies. “I was quite the dramatic little shit.”
“You don’t remember?” Wheein half laughs.
“After you mentioned it, I…I think I do,” Byulyi flashes her an apologetic smile. “I’ve had a rough two years sorry. Everything’s a bit hazy.”
“Do you remember what happened after?”
Byulyi shakes her head. “No, what?”
Wheein leans in and kisses her.
They make it three days before Yongsun finds out.
It’s not exactly ideal that the news is broken to her when she finds them sharing a bed in the morning.
“Oh shit,” Wheein swears, and nearly falls off the bed in her scramble. Her sudden movements jerks Byulyi awake, who makes some indiscernible noise before shrinking deeper into the covers.
“What’s going on,” Yongsun asks cautiously, slowly edging closer from the doorway.
“Okay wai-wai-wait,” Wheein yells, holding up her palm to gesture for Yongsun to stop. “Just hear me out. There’s a good explanation for this.”
“I’d love to see you talk your way out of this one,” Byulyi mumbles, rising from the covers, chin on resting on her shoulder.
“I swear to God Byulyi, if you open your mouth one more time I’ll –“
“Byulyi?”
They both turn to Yongsun, who looked confused and terrified at the same time.
“Okay, Byulyi just got back from her trip, like I said she would,” she adds that part for emphasis. “She wanted to, I guess, keep this whole thing under wraps because she thought you’d, well, freak out on her.”
“Yeah, sorry, I wanted to sleep with my girlfriend instead of being lectured by Yongsun unnie.”
She just laughs and ducks as Wheein turns to punch her. When she turns back around, Yongsun is gone.
“Welcome back, I guess,” Byulyi says to no one in particular.
She hears Hyejin before she sees her. They’re yelling animatedly in the hallway and she can hear Yongsun telling her to keep her voice down to no apparent avail.
“I can’t believe you let it get this far. This is exactly why I wanted to come up here.”
“I did what was best for her okay. You would have just stressed her out more.”
“And here we are. You asking me to do what we should have done in the first place. Wheein-ah,” Hyejin enters the room, followed by Yongsun. “Are you okay?”
She frowns. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I just,” Hyejin glances down at where Wheein was clutching Byulyi’s arm. “Is she back? Byulyi, is she back?”
“Yeah, she’s right here,” Wheein tugs at Byulyi’s shirt sleeve, confused.
Hyejin takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and reopens them.
“Okay Wheein. Just listen to me. Really listen. You have to stop thinking about Byulyi. Right now, you need to just forget about her. Draw a line in your memories and stay on the other side. You have to do this.”
It’s the urgency in Hyejin’s voice that scares her, not even the words. Although she couldn’t make sense of that either.
“What are you saying? She’s – she’s right here. Why are you telling me to forget her when she’s right here?” Wheein feels like she’s talking half an octave higher than her normal voice.
“That’s not her, that’s just your mind projecting things,” Hyejin tries to explain. “That’s not real. She’s not real.”
“Of course she’s real,” Wheein cries out, and looks at Byulyi, who’s silent now. “C’mon, tell them.” She shakes her arm, aggressively now. “Tell them.”
“Wheein, stop,” Yongsun speaks softly for the first time. “Byulyi’s dead.”
Dead. Heavy. Finite. Impasse.
It triggers something in her, and suddenly she’s running, grabbing Byulyi by the hand and running towards the lake. It calls to her, beckons her with promises of answers to the horde of questions swarming through her head. She dips one leg into the water, disrupting the otherwise still surface. And another. She trudges forward.
Everything sort of fades. She can hear Hyejin’s faint screams in the background, and muted bits of Yongsun’s piercing shrieks. The water is at her neck now. One last plunge.
And just before she takes her last step, she remembers. A moment of lucidity at last.
Her hand is wet, and Byulyi is gone.
Confused, Wheein tries to backtrack but stumbles instead, headfirst into the water.
It was Byulyi’s birthday and Wheein insisted on driving. Everything for the birthday girl. For the birthday girlfriend.
They were going early to stake out their favorite spot on the beach. Byulyi didn’t even want to go, we’ve gone so many times aren’t you sick of it by now.
She should have just ignored her. Turned up the radio or something. But she argues, can’t you just accept that I’m trying to do something nice for your birthday and it turns into this back and forth exchange of bullshit and –
The car in front is so much closer than before and she doesn’t have time to brake so she swerves. There’s no railing and they topple off the side into the water.
It’s dark, and Wheein’s wet with panic, trying to stifle her reflex of taking a breath. Byulyi’s window is open, and she gestures at the opening.
Somewhere buried in there, is a vestige of shame. Because Wheein simply complies when Byulyi tries to help her through the gap. It takes precious seconds, a minute even, but Wheein gets through.
Her immediate instinct is to help Byulyi, but her lung refused to cooperate. She needed air or they’d both die. And she tries to gesture that frantically as she swims towards the surface.
I’ll be back, I promise.
She wakes up in an ambulance. Disoriented and then frantic before transitioning into full blown hysteria.
She lied.
(She remembers all the pieces now. What Byulyi told her on the beach, the accident, Byulyi’s death – the reasons why she was confined to this facility. It’s why Byulyi never came back for her and why Hyejin suddenly hated the water.
And after that kiss on the beach, Byulyi had whispered to her.
“You’re not a ripple, you’re a tidal wave.”)
“Do you think she’ll hate us?”
Yongsun blinks. She hadn’t even realized she’d been nodding off until Hyejin spoke. Waiting is the hardest part. That’s what she always told patient’s families.
Heading her own advice, that’s the second hardest.
“Hate is a strong word, don’t you think?” she replies dryly.
“Yeah? What would you call it if your best friends risked your life without telling you?”
There’s no animosity in Hyejin’s voice. Only guilt. Yongsun reaches over and squeezes her hand.
“I told her there’d be risks. She agreed,” Yongsun answers. It’s full of shit, and she knows it. There’s no way Wheein could have comprehended the extent of the risks. No patient could, and it’s nothing more than an excuse doctors tell themselves so they can sleep at night.
“What about this,” Hyejin asks. “Did she agree to this?”
Yongsun closes her eyes. She doesn’t know how many times she’s ran this scenario through her head. When they fished Wheein out of the lake Hyejin was still screaming and she was shaking. They were yelling at her, asking for her medical opinion, asking her for the solution to a problem she created.
In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to switch places with Wheein’s unconscious self.
But no, she has responsibilities. She’s a doctor, and Wheein’s her patient. Her friend. The girl Byulyi gave her life for.
She has to save her.
“It’s what’s best,” she finally answers Hyejin.
Wheein wakes in the hospital. There’s something heavy weighing down on her side. The spot was numb and she winces, before searching for the source of her discomfort.
It’s Hyejin, sprawled unceremoniously over the lower half of her body, hair stiff and crinkly, like the way it gets when she doesn’t wash it for days. Wheein doesn’t want to wake her but her throat feels like sandpaper.
“Water,” she manages to croak out. Hyejin jumps awake. Her eyes widen and she nearly tackles Wheein on sight, saying so many things at once that she can’t process it all. You’re okay, she repeats, over and over, slid between a jumbled mess of words.
“Yongsun-ah!” Hyejin yells, and Wheein winces again at the sheer decibel and doesn’t even consider the trouble Hyejin could get in later for her informalities.
Yongsun rushes into the room at Hyejin’s call and at least has the sense to hand Wheein a cup of water before also enveloping her in a hug.
“I thought I lost you,” she whispers.
“We both did,” Hyejin corrects.
“I --,” Wheein struggles to say, and to remember. She remembers being wet, and darkness, but not much else. It’s murky and faint and as she tries to access the memories, a sharp pain rattles through her head. “Did something happen to me?”
“You were in an accident,” Yongsun words carefully. “We managed to resuscitate you –“
“Resuscitate?” she echoes. “So I was dead.”
“For less than a minute,” Yongsun explains. “There should be no lasting damages.”
“There’s this – uhg,” Wheein flinches again at the pain. “intermittent ringing in my head or something.”
They exchange looks, the way people do when they’re hiding a secret from you. It frustrates Wheein but the ringing cuts off her thoughts. She winces, holding the side of her head.
“Remember the treatment we were talking about,” Wheein nods her head as Yongsun explains. It’s far away and muted like the rest of her memories but she vaguely recalls the conversation. “We decided to administer the treatment while you were still under. We thought it might help with your recovery.”
Wheein mumbles out an “okay”, still only half following along.
“Part of the treatment was a series of electroshock therapy. We sent these electric currents through your brain to essentially recircuit everything. Think of it like a reboot,” Yongsun continues. “The ringing you’re experiencing is probably a residual effect. It should go away in a couple of days.”
“More importantly,” Hyejin cuts in. “Are you still seeing Byulyi?” Yongsun slaps a hand over Hyejin’s mouth and hisses at her to stop.
“Byulyi?” Wheein asks, running her tongue over those unfamiliar syllables. They both turn to look at her. “Who’s…that?”
She remembers the last time Hyejin cried. It was at their first award ceremony. She was holding the trophy but barely holding it together. Wheein had to quickly run through her speech, thanking everyone she could remember before Hyejin dragged her off stage so she could hold her and cry.
There’s no stage this time but Hyejin races out of the room before she could say anything.
Yongsun is the one holding her. She was shaking.
“I’m sorry.”
On her fifth week, Wheein gets discharged.
Yongsun quits her job, deciding that teaching medicine was a more suitable career than practicing it. Hyejin starts doing music again. Asks Wheein for help (there’s still room in our trophy case, she winks)
And Byulyi. She’s her ex. They broke up and she went overseas, Wheein remembers, maybe.
Or they tell her. She doesn’t know.
What she does know is sometimes when she dreams, dreams of wiggling her toes through the sand and inhaling the briny sea breeze, she can feel the whispers of lips on her own and fingers sifting through her hair.
It’s warm when she wakes.