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"Do you hate me?"
Ryujin raised an eyebrow. Sayeon Lee always seemed to be in complete control, never once doubting herself, her path to victory a straight line to her and an Escher's cube to anyone with a normally functioning brain. Then again, Ryujin supposed, Sayeon Lee walked a lonely path. She laughed to herself. She should hate her, down to her fucking bones. "Hah. No. I don't hate you, Sayeon Lee." She scuffed her shoe against the pavement. A pebble came loose. "What brought this on?"
Sayeon was quiet for a while. Too long a while. Ryujin looked up, frowning, another question on her tongue, which melted away when she saw the look on Sayeon's face. Sayeon smiled. She raised her hand, middle finger and thumb pressed together.
Snap.
—
"Ryujin," said Sayeon, out of the blue, meeting her stride as they patrolled. Something in her tone seeming almost experimental. "Do you hate me?"
"Huh?" Ryujin's step faltered, but Sayeon strode on, leaving Ryujin to sigh and quicken her pace to catch up. Sayeon only gave Ryujin a meaningful look when Ryujin was by her side again. Ryujin huffed. An odd line of questioning, to be sure, especially from someone like Sayeon Lee, but Sayeon had been known to say stranger things. Ryujin hated that she didn't have to consider the question long at all— or, well, rather more that her answer was what it was without any need for deeper thought. "No," she said, resigned. "I don't hate you, Sayeon Lee. What—"
Snap.
—
"Ryujin," Sayeon started, leaning her weight against the cold railings of the roof, where she'd found Ryujin with a cigarette between her lips.
Ryujin rolled her eyes. "I swear to shit, if you're about to give me a lecture on—"
"Do you hate me?"
It stopped Ryujin cold, and her teeth clamped down only just in time to catch her slowly drooping cigarette before it clattered over the roof and onto some unlucky bastard down below. It wasn't the sort of question Ryujin would have expected from Sayeon. Sayeon was too cold, too assured, too… Sayeon to harbour feelings that sounded strangely close to insecurity. Though, Ryujin supposed that she had been wrong about people before. She took another drag of her cigarette, taking her time. She knew her answer already, had known it before Sayeon had ever thought to ask. She blew the smoke out in a soft stream. "No. I don't hate you, Sayeon Lee. Wha—"
Snap.
—
"Ryujin."
Ryujin hummed, turning to look at Sayeon.
"Do you hate me?"
Ryujin blinked. She felt that the question should have surprised her more than it did. Instead, she felt something relax within her, as though she had been holding her breath up until this moment, just waiting for this question. She frowned. It was a strange way to feel about a question like this from Sayeon Lee of all people. Ryujin wouldn't have thought that Sayeon would care much for her opinion anyways. She sighed. "No," she admitted. "I don't hate you, Sayeon Lee. Wh—"
Snap.
—
Ryujin couldn't sleep.
That wasn't entirely true. She had been asleep. She had slept. She'd simply awoken at some ungodly hour, when the sun had yet to rise and her eyes refused to sink back down. She sighed, her head falling to the side, and that was when she noticed it.
Ryujin breathed in. She told herself she didn't care. She shouldn't care. There was no reason for her to care, and every reason not to.
She cursed herself as she pushed herself upright. Dahee and Tsubaki slept on peacefully, undisturbed. Ryujin wished she could be like them, sleeping away and not wondering where the fuck Sayeon Lee had wandered off to.
Ryujin was being irrational. Sayeon had probably gotten up to use the bathroom or something. There was no need for her to get up and investigate at 2 fucking AM or whatever the time was. She would wait, and then feign sleep when Sayeon eventually found her way back to the room, and then she would go back to failing to sleep.
And so Ryujin waited. And waited. And waited. And waited.
She frowned. She'd been waiting a long, long time, and there wasn't a hint of a whisper of footsteps to suggest Sayeon was returning to bed. She forced herself to wait some more. Her fingers tapped lightly against her mattress. Restlessness clawed at her. Ryujin sighed, resigned.
Ryujin stood up to begin the search for Sayeon Lee.
Wait, no, she told herself. No, there was no need for that. She would not search for Sayeon Lee. She would go to the bathroom, splash her face with some water, find a glass of water to drink, and then try sleeping again. Ryujin breathed in. She wasn't going looking for Sayeon. She just needed to clear her head.
Ryujin moved more by feel than sight. The hallways were still too dark for her to truly see, and she had no idea where the goddamn light switch was. So, with one palm sliding along the wall, fumbling through the shadows would have to do. She managed to stumble into the bathrooms soon enough, and here, thank fuck, the lights were on, and—
Ryujin blinked.
Here, Sayeon Lee stood, in a plain white tee, her hair still dripping into the towel curled about her neck. Sayeon blinked back at Ryujin.
Ryujin recovered first, or maybe she was just the only one who felt the need to break the strangely charged silence between them. She cleared her throat. "Late night shower?"
One corner of Sayeon's lips edged up. "Early morning," she countered, and moved to gather the ends of her towel, to rub the ends of her hair in the fold she had created. Her eyes swept coldly across the length of Ryujin's body. She had a way of looking at Ryujin, a specific way, that left Ryujin feeling exposed, laid bare for scrutiny. It unnerved Ryujin. "Couldn't sleep?"
Ryujin shrugged, turning towards the sinks, trying her damnedest not to look up into the large span of the mirror. She failed miserably. Sayeon was still watching her, drying her hair languidly, slower than necessary. Ryujin caught Sayeon's eye in the mirror, then broke the contact as she splashed her face with water.
Sayeon made a bemused noise. "Are you sure that's not just going to wake you up further?"
Ryujin shrugged again, dragging her palms down her face, shaking her hands to rid them of the droplets of water clinging to them. She hadn't considered the issue of a towel.
"Here."
Ryujin opened her eyes to find Sayeon holding out her own towel. Ryujin took it wordlessly. It was damp from Sayeon's hair, and it smelled faintly of the standard shampoo they stocked in the showers, and Ryujin patted her face dry with it. "Thanks," she said, handing the towel back.
Sayeon was slow to reach out for the towel. Ryujin found, strangely, that she herself was slow to let go of it. "Say," Sayeon began, and there was a soft tremble in her voice that Ryujin wouldn't have heard if not for the violent emptiness of the room, the soft echo of their voices, the enclosed bubble of just the two of them. "Ryujin—"
"I don't hate you, Sayeon," Ryujin blurted out, and froze. She'd sounded tired, exasperated, the words falling with practised ease, as though she'd said them hundreds of times before. The towel slipped from her fingers. Sayeon's fist had tightened on it. Ryujin watched as the fabric crumpled.
Sayeon's eyes were wide, unblinking. Ryujin couldn't identify the expression on her face, but her mouth was still curled around Ryujin's name, her lips parted slightly, and Ryujin wasn't sure that she was blinking. "What?" Sayeon said at last, her voice hardly above a whisper.
"I—" Ryujin swallowed, unsure of what to do with her hands, unsure of where to look. Meeting Sayeon's eyes felt like an impossible task all of a sudden. "I… don't know why I said that. I just— I guess I'm tired. Sleepy. I— what are you doing?"
Sayeon had lifted one hand. It was shaking, slightly, her thumb and middle finger pressed together so hard that Ryujin suspected the flesh had gone white.
Snap—
—
"Here."
Ryujin opened her eyes to find Sayeon holding out her own towel. Ryujin took it wordlessly. It was damp from Sayeon's hair, and it smelled faintly of the standard shampoo they stocked in the showers, and Ryujin patted her face dry with it. "Thanks," she said, handing the towel back.
Sayeon was slow to reach out for the towel. Ryujin found, strangely, that she herself was slow to let go of it. "I'm… going to head back to bed now," Sayeon said, and Ryujin felt a small frown tug at her features. Sayeon sounded— not frayed, not quite, she sounded as composed as ever, but there was something there. Something off. A tight sort of tension joining the syllables of her sentence that wasn't usually so starkly apparent.
"Sure," Ryujin agreed. She watched, in the mirror, as Sayeon walked away. Sayeon did not look back. Ryujin sighed, pressed down on the spot between her eyebrows.
She had the strangest feeling that something was missing.