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1.
Ryujin knows it’s her the moment she steps into the room.
She slips inside and presses her back against the wall, hands folded in front of her, shoulders hunched inward. Ryujin can tell that she’s going for inconspicuous or maybe even invisible, but it’s a lost cause. If there’s anything that all the trainees are good at, it’s spreading the word. Everyone’s been waiting, heads turning the moment the door so much as squeaks open, good-natured groans filling up the room when it reveals someone they already know.
So, when Yeji slips into the room, all eyes are already on her.
Ryujin expects her to blush, and she does, but she also meets the blatant staring with a nervous smile and something in her eyes that looks a lot like innate confidence. It draws Ryujin in, interest piquing as the instructor bids her forward.
Introductions are made to a room full of people, some eyeing the new girl with hostility, others with curiosity.
She’s shy, and Ryujin doesn’t think she has any reason to be. But she also remembers what it feels like to be abruptly seen, so she steps behind her as soon as the instructor leaves them to set up the music for the day.
She doesn’t think about it as she wraps her arms around a thin waist hidden underneath a loose gray sweater and peeks up to see her face. Hands come up in response, instinctively grasping Ryujin’s forearms.
“Hello, Yeji-unnie,” she says the name everyone’s been tossing about carelessly for days on end, says it as gently as she can. “You’re so pretty.”
For a moment, Yeji’s face blanks, presumably in surprise. Then she smiles, this time a little more brightly, eyes crinkling, cheeks puffing. Ryujin tightens her hold around Yeji for reasons she can’t quite explain.
“Ryujin?” She asks clumsily, shyly.
Ryujin nods with a grin she can’t help. She feels Yeji relax, and Ryujin lets go, proud of herself for a mission accomplished.
“You’re really pretty, too,” Yeji says with the kind of honesty that’s hard to come by considering where they are, the kind that isn’t meant to beat down so much as lift up, the kind that Ryujin didn’t realize she had missed.
She quickly learns that Yeji is built with all the things people usually lose over time.
She isn’t afraid to make mistakes, laughing it off when Ryujin teases her tentatively then does the routine perfectly when the instructor asks her to do it again. She greets every new person Ryujin introduces her to with a shy but genuine smile on her face, mouthing their names like she’s committing them to memory, unafraid of making space in her life for people she might lose down the line. She rests her hands on Ryujin’s shoulders, shaking with barely contained wonder and excitement when Ryujin finally gets around to giving her the promised tour.
Yeji is silly, charming, and pretty, and Ryujin can only think about how much she wishes they could bypass the awkward, tiptoeing, getting to know each other phase just so she can figure out if it’s okay to hug her again.
2.
Ryujin always dances like the stage is made for her, moving like the beat lives in her chest, a demand in every step she takes. Watch me, she seems to say, eyes on me.
Yeji does.
She sits, knees tucked to her chest, quietly enamored. She watches closely, and because she doesn’t look away, she picks up on the little things that anyone else might miss. Like the way Ryujin isn’t stepping so much as she is stomping. Or the way her brows furrow deeper the further she is into the choreography. Or the way she holds her breath the moment she gets to the part she just can’t seem to do right.
Yeji knows she’s going to miss the beat a split second before it happens.
“Why—” Ryujin huffs, too out of breath to even finish her question. She smacks a palm to her forehead and growls loud enough for Yeji to hear above the music.
Yeji stands up and dusts herself off; goes to pause the music and retrieve a blue water bottle and a face towel from Ryujin’s gym bag.
She knows better than to try to convince her to shelve the task for tomorrow. So instead, she offers the items in her hands with a sympathetic smile.
Ryujin takes them gratefully but eyes her with a question.
“You’re too stiff,” Yeji starts.
Ryujin nods and makes a vague gesture with her free hand. “Show me?”
Yeji does.
“It’s why you can’t transition from this,” she steps to the side, “to this without missing the beat,” she says as she controls every muscle in her legs to flow down to the ground. “You have to relax and let your body move the way it wants to. At least, that’s what I think.”
Yeji feels suddenly bashful, a part of her still unused to giving tips to someone as good as Ryujin.
Ryujin, of course, notices. She smiles, small and tired but teasing and soft. “Are you feeling shy, unnie?”
Yeji laughs, shoulders relaxing. “Shut up,” she shoots back. “You wanna try it again?”
“One last time,” she nods.
“You’re buying dinner.”
“Only if I don’t get it right.”
Yeji takes the water bottle and the towel back before sticking her hand out. “Deal?”
Ryujin shakes her head and chuckles. Yeji counts it as a win.
“You’re so weird.”
“Deal?” Yeji insists just because she likes how amusement looks on Ryujin even if it comes at her expense, how it chases away the frustration from earlier, how it keeps her smiling.
Ryujin shakes her hand. “Deal. But you’re buying when I get it right.”
“Fine,” Yeji says coolly.
“Fine.”
Yeji steps away and sits back down next to their stuff, watching Ryujin take back the space that’s made for her. She replays the music, shakes the stiffness out of her limbs, and takes a deep breath. Yeji can almost feel the moment the playfulness and mischief melt away from Ryujin, the moment she becomes the performer she’s born to be.
Yeji watches her get it right and doubts that she could look away even if she tried.
Ryujin starfishes on the ground as soon as she gets through the whole routine, and Yeji grins widely when she hears a hissed and utterly victorious yes from behind her as she pauses the music.
She skips over to Ryujin and bends at the waist. “You did it!”
Ryujin looks up at her with bright, unadulterated, and absolute elation, smiles wide enough for her dimples to show. “Yeah, I did,” she exhales in satisfaction before her expression morphs into the smuggest look Yeji has ever seen on a face.
Yeji clicks her tongue but offers a hand to pull her up from the ground. “Come on, a deal’s a deal.”
“A feast tonight, I think.”
“Ryujin-ah, I’m broke,” Yeji reminds her as she picks up her stuff. “How about ramyeon?”
Ryujin takes her sleeve and tugs her out of the room. “Definitely meat.”
Yeji follows, resigned to her fate.
She ends up spending at least half her entire month’s allowance on a single meal, but Ryujin takes her hand on their way back to the dorm and whispers a soft thank you, I couldn’t have done it without you. Yeji knows she could because she’s just that good but that doesn’t stop her from feeling like she’s the one who won something in the end.
3.
They’re cramped in a waiting room, and there’s barely any space to breathe much less move.
Ryujin feels her skin crawl. Her patience is razor-thin, lungs refusing to cooperate, heart attempting to claw its way out of her chest.
She’s not the only one in disarray.
Jisu is wide awake in a corner even though it’s barely even dawn, digging her nails in the back of her hands, eyes drifting like she can’t focus on a single thing. Chaeryeong’s leg hasn’t stopped shaking since she sat down, and Ryujin’s convinced that the floor’s going to crack under the constant thud, thud, thud from her boot. Yuna’s bouncing off the walls, alternating between shaking a nearly catatonic Jisu and practicing the choreography with Chaeryeong.
Ryujin has taken to sitting in a corner, trying to put as much space between herself and the ongoing chaos. She’d been helping Yuna get the excess energy out while also checking that Jisu hasn’t burst into tears or that Chaeryeong hasn’t resorted to biting her nails off. But the closer they inch to the moment they’ve waited years to have, Ryujin finds that she can’t quite put up a calm and collected front.
It’ll be perfect, she knows. There’s no room for doubt when they’ve spent hours hammering what they need to do into their bones, going over every detail, foregoing sleep so that they can dedicate more time for rehearsals. She knows herself, knows the people she’s going to be standing on that stage with, knows with absolute certainty that they’re ready.
Still, that doesn’t stop her from feeling like she’s teetering, standing too close to an edge that leads to nowhere.
“Lia-yah,” Yeji’s voice drags her back to the cramped waiting room. “Warm up with me.”
Ryujin thinks she’s unusually—almost eerily—calm. Yeji’s eyes are focused on Jisu, gently leading them into a melody that Jisu’s all too happy to follow. The sound attracts Chaeryeong who stands up from her seat, joins them, and adds her voice to the mix.
Then, Yeji goes off-tune, her hand shooting up to cover her mouth.
For a beat, all three of them are silent until Chaeryeong cracks a smile and Jisu makes an aborted sound of laughter.
Yeji grins, and Ryujin wonders if she did it on purpose just to break the ice wrapped around Jisu and Chaeryeong’s limbs. The thought softens something in her chest, tightens a knot in her throat.
“Unnie, did you just—” Chaeryeong laughs, the first Ryujin’s heard from her today.
“No,” Yeji says, face still warm and bright. “Shut it. It’s early, okay?” She works up to the note again, and this time, she hits it with pinpoint accuracy. “See? Everything’s okay.”
“Go an octave higher?” Chaeryeong requests, looking far more relaxed than she was just a moment ago.
“Don’t, your throat—” Jisu tries to stop her.
But Yeji’s already pressing a finger against her tragus and makes some kind of an ungodly noise that has Chaeryeong doubling over in laughter and Jisu reaching for Yeji’s throat, patting it and chuckling.
“Yeji-unnie,” Yuna calls from the other end of the room.
Ryujin watches Yeji rest a hand over Jisu’s, squeezing it before letting go and turning in Yuna’s direction. “Yeah?”
“How does this part go again?”
Yeji leaves Chaeryeong and Jisu to finish the vocal warm-up she started, both of them smiling and intentionally messing up random notes and inevitably dissolving into giggles. The image paints a smile on Ryujin’s lips, shoulders coming down from her ears by the time Yeji stops beside Yuna.
Yuna does the part of the routine before the dance break, getting confused with her hands and giving Yeji a big-eyed look that might just be a little too teary for comfort. Yeji reacts instantly, brushing her fingertips against Yuna’s cheek like she can’t help it. Then, she shakes her head.
“Like this,” Yeji shows her the routine, and Yuna watches attentively before attempting to do it herself.
Yeji counts and recites the lyrics, tapping her thigh for the beat. Yuna messes up once then twice before taking a deep breath and finally getting it right, her body remembering that it knows what to do.
“Again?” Yeji asks, and Ryujin knows that tone, knows the tenderness in it because she’s been on the receiving end far too many times, knows that it’s more for Yuna’s sake than it is about thoroughness.
Yuna does as asked with more confidence and doesn’t make the same mistakes again. She looks at Yeji, still wide-eyed but this time, grinning proudly as if to say I did it.
Yeji wraps her hands around Yuna’s upper arms. “You’re perfect.”
Yuna, bless her, blushes before falling into Yeji’s arms, wiggling in excitement. Yeji hooks her chin on Yuna’s shoulder, and Ryujin doesn’t think she has ever seen the expression on her face. It’s soft and proud but also terrified, and it has Ryujin wondering what else Yeji’s hiding when she thinks no one’s looking.
Yuna pulls back, and Yeji effortlessly matches the big grin on her face, wipes away the expression Ryujin’s sure she wasn’t meant to see.
“We’re debuting,” Yuna says in a squeal, bringing white-knuckled and vibrating fists up to her chest.
Yeji giggles and does a little hop on her toes. “Yeah, we are. Go do your warm-ups.”
Yuna nods excitedly, skipping over to where Chaeryeong and Jisu are.
Ryujin knows she’s next even before Yeji begins searching the room. She meets her gaze from across the room, and she’s sure that Jisu has one cliché or another to offer for the way she feels when Yeji tilts her head and offers a small, warm smile before making her way to her.
She sits close enough that Ryujin can feel her warmth but doesn’t make a move to touch her like she knows that Ryujin can’t yet.
“Are you scared, Ryuddaeng?”
It’s more habit than truth when Ryujin snorts. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”
“What are you doing sulking in a corner then?” Yeji asks, eyes on Chaeryeong, Jisu, and Yuna.
“Peace and quiet,” Ryujin says. “Ryeong kept shaking her leg, and Yuna nearly tripped into me four times in under 30 minutes.”
Yeji laughs. “They’re just nervous.”
“I know,” Ryujin murmurs and tries not to ask if Yeji feels the same, already knowing that it’s not a thing she’ll admit if she can help it.
“Should I leave you alone then?”
Ryujin can’t put into words how much she appreciates her for asking but grabs Yeji’s wrist the moment she’s halfway out of her seat.
“Sit down,” she says. “You’ve been fussing over everyone. I got dizzy just looking at you.”
“Not my fault you were looking,” Yeji mutters but sits back down dutifully.
Ryujin taps the skin right above her pulse, and Yeji responds by pushing her fingers into the spaces of Ryujin’s.
It’s how she realizes, rather abruptly, that Yeji’s hand is cold and trembling, joints knocking lightly against hers.
Ryujin bites the inside of her cheek, not quite sure what to do with what she’s been trusted with, a little scared that she might do the wrong thing. Yeji has been taking care of them, learning what they need and how to give it, and Ryujin aches at the way she never asks for anything in return, the way she gives and gives and doesn’t allow herself to take.
She turns to look at Yeji and wonders if it was intentional, if she’s giving her this—something she would never give so freely to just anyone—so that Ryujin can think about something else.
Yeji glances at her from the corner of her eye before meeting her gaze. “What?”
Ryujin smiles and doesn’t look away. “Nothing.”
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Yeji whines, nudging her shoulder against Ryujin’s in an attempt to get her to look away.
Ryujin doesn’t. “You’re being silly,” she shrugs.
“What—”
Ryujin puts a stop to whatever question she was planning to ask by folding her other hand around Yeji’s, wrapping it in all the warmth she’s capable of offering.
“We’re going to be great,” she declares and believes it, feels instantly better the moment she says it. “We already are.”
Yeji stares at her for a moment before looking away, fingers clutching. “Yeah?” She breathes so quietly that Ryujin almost misses it.
“Yeah.”
A beat, then a sigh. Yeji melts against her and rests her head on her shoulder. “Thanks, Ryujinnie.”
And it’s not the first time Yeji’s done this, but Ryujin feels it again then; the tightening in her gut, the strange pitter-patter in her chest, the unstable ground beneath her feet.
She holds Yeji’s hand tight then tighter.
4.
Yeji wakes to the sound of the door clicking shut.
Groggily, she wiggles a hand out of her blankets and pats around half-heartedly. She frees her phone from underneath her pillow, tapping the screen and flinching a little at the sudden glare. It’s a whole process to get her eyes to focus long enough to see the time, and she squints, brows furrowing deeply before finally registering the numbers.
1:42 a.m.
It’s both too late and too early, definitely not a time for anyone to be awake, especially considering they’re finally on a relative break from back-to-back schedules.
She swallows, mouth dry.
“Ryujin?” She calls out hoarsely, fighting to keep her eyes open.
The room is quiet and still.
Yeji gives herself a couple of minutes. Just a couple, she promises, nearly losing the battle against sleep if it weren’t for the passing realization that the room is warmer than it should be.
Almost regretfully, she pulls herself up, shivering the moment the blankets fall off of her.
Getting down from the top bunk wakes her up a little more as she clambers down the steps with her sock-clad feet. She makes a stop at the bathroom, moving as quietly as she can, before looking for Ryujin.
She finds her in the kitchen, hair mussed, back turned to her, rooting around for what Yeji assumes to be the tea packs that Jisu keeps well-stocked. She enters and steps beside her to help.
Ryujin doesn’t startle, doesn’t say a thing as Yeji takes the teapot and fills it up with enough hot water for two. She can feel Ryujin’s attention on her before it leaves with a sigh followed by the distinct sound of another mug joining the one Ryujin had chosen for herself.
Yeji sets the teapot back on the counter, leans against the island, and waits until Ryujin drops a tea bag into the water to say something.
“Nightmare?” She asks quietly even though she already knows the answer.
Ryujin turns to her with a wry look, arms crossed.
“You should be sleeping,” she says. “I’m fine.”
Yeji covers her mouth as a yawn escapes her. “I know,” she says simply. “Want to talk about it?”
“I don’t even remember what it was about.”
“But you can’t go back to sleep?”
Ryujin gives her a look Yeji can’t name. “How do you know that?”
Yeji shrugs, tugging her sleeve down to her palm and using it to wipe the sleep away from her eyes. “Our room’s warmer than you like it to be. You only change the temperature when you’re not going to come back to bed anytime soon and I happen to be asleep.”
“Because you like it closer to room temperature,” Ryujin says matter-of-factly.
“There’s nothing wrong with not wanting my toes to fall off.”
“That’s why we have blankets and socks,” she shoots back. “I can’t believe we’re arguing about this again at two in the morning.”
Yeji squints at her, genuinely confused. “We’re arguing?”
Ryujin slumps, huffing out a laugh. Yeji smiles at the sound and extends a hand.
“C’mere?” She mumbles.
Ryujin’s eyes drop down to her hand before coming back up, a look on her face that Yeji can’t read just yet but has seen more and more of ever since their debut. It’s not a bad look, Yeji thinks, but it makes her all kinds of nervous, her stomach a little unsettled, chest warmer than it should be. She doesn’t understand it, but she trusts that Ryujin will tell her if it’s something she should worry about, so she lets it be.
That doesn’t mean she isn’t blushing though, if Ryujin’s growing smirk is anything to go by. Yeji only wiggles her fingers and makes a sound from the back of her throat that might be a whine.
Ryujin steps closer, sidestepping the outstretched hand in favor of just going ahead and resting her chin on Yeji’s shoulder.
Yeji takes it in stride, wrapping her arm around Ryujin, rubbing a hand up and down her back. Ryujin hasn’t been up for too long, still sleep-warm against her, and it makes Yeji sigh, closing her eyes as she tilts her head against Ryujin’s crown.
“It’s okay. You’re okay,” she whispers then yawns again.
“I know that,” Ryujin murmurs but wraps an arm around Yeji’s waist anyway. “You should go back to bed.”
“We can catch up on it later. Do you want to make snacks? I can help.”
Ryujin snorts. “I really wouldn’t trust you with a knife right now.”
“Fair.”
They fall silent, Yeji’s hand still rubbing comfort into the length of the Ryujin’s spine. She’s mildly surprised that she hasn’t pulled away yet but Yeji’s far from complaining.
Finally, Ryujin nuzzles into her shoulder. Yeji feels it in her chest, something tender that stays even when Ryujin pulls back, a familiar thing that she remembers feeling that time when Ryujin showed up at the dorm to spend Chuseok with her or when Ryujin reaches for her like she just needs to be touching some part of her or when Ryujin does things like shower her with compliments when she knows that Yeji’s feeling unsure or insecure.
“You’re going to fall asleep standing,” Ryujin says. “Tea?”
“Please.”
They move to the living room, legs curled underneath them, backs leaning against opposite ends of the couch. The conversation is light and easy enough for the hour, and Yeji is glad that it’s always like this with Ryujin. She keeps an eye for anything that might tell her that Ryujin isn’t feeling too well, but her stories and soft laughter come easy, shoulders relaxed, temple resting against the back of the couch.
She’s okay, Yeji tells herself, and it’s the only thing that matters.
At some point, Ryujin drops an open palm in the space between them, and Yeji doesn’t even think about it when she scoots closer and places her palm into Ryujin’s.
She doesn’t know how long they’ve been up, talking about nothing and everything, but when she notices Ryujin’s slightly drooping eyelids, she squeezes the hand in hers.
“Do you think you can asleep now?” Yeji asks, taking Ryujin’s empty mug and setting it beside hers on the coffee table.
“I think so,” Ryujin says, looking at her with tired, warm eyes.
“Let’s go?”
Ryujin shakes her head then lays back, toes nudging Yeji’s knee until she makes space. “Don’t want to move.”
Yeji snorts. “Okay.”
She lets go and attempts to get up to put the mugs in the kitchen sink and get blankets and pillows only to be stopped by a leg dropping unceremoniously into her lap.
“Leave them,” Ryujin says softly, eyes already half-closed.
“Am I supposed to sleep sitting down?” Yeji asks.
“No, dummy,” Ryujin answers before shifting to the edge of the couch. “Here.”
Yeji looks at the space doubtfully. “I don’t think we can fit. Besides, there’s no way that’s comfortable. I can just sleep on the floor.”
Ryujin lifts her upper body long enough to snag the cuff of Yeji’s pajama sleeve, and Yeji lets her tug her down. She ends up with her back pressed against the couch, legs curled underneath Ryujin’s. She doesn’t quite know what to do with her arms so she tucks a hand under her head and, hesitantly, drops an arm over Ryujin’s waist.
Ryujin only sighs and cradles Yeji’s elbow, using her other hand to reach back and rest it against Yeji’s cheek. “Sleep.”
Yeji doesn’t really know how she’s going to do that with her heart pounding a hasty rhythm in her chest. She thinks that she should know what it means or that she should’ve known a long time ago, but she can’t comprehend a thing when she’s this close to Ryujin, aware of every part of her body that touches hers.
She doesn’t mean to, but she pulls Ryujin closer by instinct, a part of her having learned that she is where comfort is. She feels Ryujin start rubbing lightly at the tender skin of her elbow in response, breaths deepening by the second.
Yeji closes her eyes, focuses on nothing but the warmth of Ryujin’s palm on her cheek, shifts closer despite herself.
She falls asleep in minutes.
(Sometime later, she wakes a second time to the feeling of someone putting a blanket over her and Ryujin and the sound of a mattress dropping on the floor. Chaeryeong smiles at her, whispers sleep, unnie, and Yeji buries her nose into Ryujin’s hair and does as she’s told.
In the morning, she nearly steps on Yuna’s leg and Jisu’s hand when she finally sits up to greet the day ahead. She looks incredulously at the sleeping bodies on the floor then to Chaeryeong curled in the only other chair in the living room then finally to Ryujin’s amused eyes.
Yeji stifles a laugh. Ryujin looks at her with a smile, eyes half-lidded and still heavy with sleep, soft and disheveled, curled up in the space Yeji left behind.
Her heart beats away, running out of her chest and straight into someone else’s warm hands.)
5.
Yuna rests her hands above Ryujin’s hips as soon as Yeji slips out the door.
“Should we… do something?” Yuna asks.
Jisu peeks around the corner, eyes trained on the firmly shut front door. “I can go after her?”
Ryujin shakes her head even though that’s exactly what she wants to do. “No. She just needs to walk it out.”
“I don’t like that she’s alone though. It’s late,” Chaeryeong says, frowning. “What even happened?”
Ryujin shrugs, holding Yuna’s hands and tugging her to the kitchen with her. They haven’t had anything proper to eat the whole day, too busy being herded from one meeting to the next, one event to another. Jisu picks up on what she intends to do and Ryujin sees her loop her arm around a still-worried Chaeryeong, urging her to follow.
“What are we making?” Jisu asks. “I think she’s been into sweet potato sticks lately.”
“Sounds good. Can you make your kimchi fried rice?” Ryujin asks. She squeezes Yuna’s hands. “Yuna-yah, get the meat please.”
She feels Yuna drop a kiss on her cheek before letting go.
“But… Yeji-unnie?” Chaeryeong says quietly, frown still firmly in place.
“When she comes back and she’s feeling better, she’s going to be hungry,” Ryujin answers as she scoops rice grains into a pot. “If she’s not feeling better, then the last thing on her mind will probably be food. That’s not good. Either way, we’re going to make dinner.”
She looks up with what she hopes is a reassuring smile, grateful when Jisu takes over, pressing a finger against the furrow of Chaeryeong’s brow.
“Hey!” Chareyeong exclaims, backing away. “Okay, I get it.”
“Good,” Ryujin says. “Go shower first.”
“I’ll set the table as soon as I’m done.”
Ryujin nods. “Sounds like a plan. Jisuni, can you put on your music when you’re done with the sticks? You and Yeddeong have the same taste.”
“When did you get so good at ordering people around?” Jisu teases. “You’re so cute when you’re worried.”
Ryujin rolls her eyes. “I’m not worried.”
Yuna comes up behind her and sets her hands on her shoulders. “I don’t know, Ryujin-unnie, you seem kinda tense,” she muses, and Ryujin can hear the teasing tone from a mile away.
She turns around, brandishing a knife with a grudging grin. “We have two bathrooms. Take a bath. You stink.”
“Aye, aye, cap’n,” Yuna says, clicking her heels together. She moves out of the kitchen but not before passing by Jisu and whispering bossy.
Jisu laughs and makes a shushing sound that Ryujin chooses to ignore.
She almost sighs in relief when the kitchen descends into a rhythm, two people moving around each other in easy familiarity, soft music permeating from the Bluetooth speakers in their living room. Jisu doesn’t say a thing as she prepares the sweet potato sticks before passing them over to her for frying and moving on to the kimchi fried rice. Ryujin makes drinks for everyone, and she allows muscle memory to take over and tries not to worry too much about Yeji.
“She’ll be okay. She’ll be home in a bit,” Jisu says over the sound of chopping.
Ryujin smiles a little helplessly. “How did you even know I was worrying?”
Jisu hums, focused on her task. “You tend to space out when she’s not around, and you get this adorable lost look on your face.”
Ryujin rubs at her nose with the back of her hand as if that might erase whatever expression Jisu’s seeing. “No, I don’t,” she says, just to be difficult.
Jisu looks up and snorts. “Yes, you do. There, see.”
“Whatever you say, Lia-unnie,” Ryujin says.
They manage to finish dinner relatively quickly, and Yuna offers to help Chaeryeong transfer the dishes to the table so that the cooks for the night can take their turn in the shower. Not for the first time, Ryujin finds herself grateful for the way they are, the way there’s always someone who can take the load off and make the weight easier to carry.
She’s clean, dressed in comfortable clothes, and sitting at the dinner table with the others by the time their front door opens. All at once, the conversation comes to a stop just as Yeji rounds the corner and halts abruptly when she catches sight of them.
“Unnie,” Yuna says, tone so soft and open. “Let’s eat?”
“What…?” Yeji trails off, caught completely off guard, one earbud still in her ear, hair wind-blown, face a little pale.
Ryujin can’t take the way she’s standing alone, confused and lost and sad, so she gets up and walks toward her.
“You look silly standing there. Come on, the food’s getting cold,” she says, peering attentively at Yeji’s face.
Yeji only gives her a wide-eyed stare.
Ryujin clicks her tongue and reaches for a hand, a part of her wanting to sigh in relief the moment Yeji’s fingers curl automatically around hers. She watches as the touch brings Yeji out of her stupor, gaze shifting from her to the others then back to her.
“I worried all of you, didn’t I?” Yeji says, shoulders slumping, a sheepish smile on her face. “I’m sorry.”
Something about the way she says it doesn’t sit right with Ryujin. She frowns.
“Yes, we were worried. But that’s not something you should apologize for. We’re here for you, stupid. You can take a walk if you need to, but when you come back, we’ll make sure that you’re okay at the end of the day. And that’s not a burden on us. We want to do this for you, and you deserve that,” Ryujin says as firmly and as gently as she can.
There’s a sound of someone slapping a hand over someone else’s mouth and words muffled into a palm, but Ryujin can’t think about it right now, can only watch as the half-hearted smile on Yeji’s face falls bit by bit. She tugs on her hand as if to pull it back, but Ryujin holds tight.
Finally, Yeji tilts her chin up, eyes fixed on the ceiling, blinking fast. She bites her bottom lip, shoulders trembling, hand slack in Ryujin’s. It’s how she looks when she’s about to cry.
It doesn’t matter that Ryujin has seen it a handful of times before; she thinks that it will always break her heart.
Ryujin tugs her back into the foyer to get her away from the attention. Yeji follows, face still tilted up, trusting her blindly.
“Hey,” Ryujin murmurs, squeezing the hand in hers.
Yeji brings her other hand up to pinch at the corners of her eyes, sniffling.
“Yeji,” she says. “Come on, don’t do that. You can cry. I promise you can cry.”
Ryujin holds her breath when Yeji finally looks at her, tears racing fast down her cheeks, bone-deep exhaustion in every line of her face.
She attempts a laugh that trails into a choked but soft, “Don’t. I can’t—”
Ryujin shakes her head, reaching up to wipe the tears from Yeji’s chin and cheeks before soothing a hand on her hair. Yeji closes her eyes, and Ryujin aches. She guides Yeji to her shoulder, glad when Yeji just lets it happen and steps closer so that she can lean a little bit of her weight on her.
Ryujin holds her, steady and strong.
“We’re here,” she whispers. “I’m here.”
Yeji shifts closer, movements shy and hesitant, and Ryujin knows that she’s asking for something and that she’s having a hard time using her words. It doesn’t matter anyway; Ryujin understands.
She lets Yeji’s hand go in favor of wrapping her arms around her shoulders.
Yeji gives a muffled whimper before Ryujin feels hands curling into the back of her shirt.
“I just need—” Yeji swallows hard, unable to continue.
“It’s okay,” Ryujin says. “Take all the time you need. The food can be reheated. The others will wait willingly. I’m not going anywhere.”
There’s more she wants to say, something that feels like it’s always been true for her.
But, not now. Not here. Not like this.
For now, Ryujin soothes any part of Yeji she can reach, lets her do what she needs to do, knows that this isn’t something she allows herself to do if she can help it.
Yeji cries for a little while longer, and Ryujin waits patiently until the sound of tears being choked back fades into something calmer. She tries again when Yeji’s weight settles more fully on her, pushes her back a little against the wall.
“If you get snot on my shirt, you’re washing it,” she murmurs.
A knot in her chest loosens when Yeji gives a quiet, watery laugh before shifting until her nose touches Ryujin’s shoulder.
“That’s disgusting, Yeddeong,” Ryujin says, all bark and no bite.
Yeji breathes deep through her mouth and sighs against her before pulling back. Ryujin lets her.
“Good?” She asks as she watches Yeji wipe her tears away.
“Better,” Yeji answers, voice hoarse and raw. “Thank you.”
Ryujin smiles. “You can thank me by eating. Think you can do that?”
Yeji hesitates but ultimately nods.
“Good. Come on,” she says before turning around to lead the way back to where the others are waiting.
She grins to herself when she feels fingers capture the hem of her shirt. She doesn’t turn back, confident that Yeji will follow.
Yuna looks like she wants to say something the moment she catches sight of them, eyes wide and worried. Ryujin is grateful when Chaeryeong catches whatever Yuna was planning to say with a well-placed elbow. Still, she gives them a subtle nod when they look at her in question, and that seems to be all they need as they start piling food on Yeji’s plate. She sits down next to Yeji, who fidgets beside her.
“If there aren’t enough sweet potato sticks, blame Yuna,” Jisu says at the head of the table.
“I only took two! To taste test!” Yuna defends herself.
“Patience is a virtue, Yuna-yah,” Chaeryeong chips in while dropping a heaping scoop of kimchi fried rice on Yeji’s plate.
“It’s okay,” Yeji manages to say because of course, she would try for them even if it’s hard.
Faces beam brightly back at her, and Ryujin chuckles as Yeji’s face turns pink.
“Cute,” she says.
Yeji groans. “Stop,” she says before smiling back. It’s still sad around the edges but it’s a smile nonetheless. “I don’t think I can talk about it yet, but thank you,” she tells all of them.
“It was Ryujin’s idea,” Chaeryeong says.
Yeji turns to her, something so very warm and tender in her red-rimmed eyes. “Really?” She asks before Ryujin feels a hand curl around hers.
Ryujin hates that she blushes, so she hastily picks up a sweet potato stick and nearly shoves it into Yeji’s mouth. “Eat.”
Yeji interlaces their fingers together and tugs their hands into her lap. “Okay.”
And if Ryujin moves her chair a little closer to Yeji, if she eats by using a spoon with her left hand, if her eyes don’t stray from Yeji for too long, if she gives a secret away, if it’s written all over her face, no one says a thing about it.
+1
“Is there anything you want?” Chaeryeong asks, shuffling around the living room, collecting things here and there.
As far as Ryujin’s half-open eyes can see, Chaeryeong’s got three face masks in her hands, Jisu’s going-out bag, and even Yuna’s phone. They had decided the night before to spend the day with a full itinerary just going around Seoul. Yuna had finally gotten stir-crazy and begged Jisu to go out with her. Chaeryeong asked to go with them the moment she found that Jisu wanted to watch a musical while they were out. Yeji passed because she was trying to catch up on sleep, and Ryujin did the same because she doesn’t have the energy to spare for the rest of the world. She also didn’t want Yeji to be alone and left out, but that’s between her and whichever one of them might have figured out what she’d just recently come to terms with.
“Ice cream? So that we have dessert for tomorrow,” Ryujin answers, leaning back against the couch. “Also, Yeddeong might want cake.”
Chaeryeong nods. “Okay,” she says easily, fidgeting with her clothes and fixing her hair in front of the full-length mirror. “Jisuni! Yuna-yah!”
Ryujin hears a faint coming! from somewhere. “Keep it down. Yeji-unnie’s a light sleeper, remember?”
Chaeryeong covers her mouth. “Sorry,” she mumbles. “Are you planning to do anything about that by the way?”
“What do you mean?”
“You and Yeji-unnie.”
Ryujin knows that she hasn’t been subtle, still too busy trying to get used to having a heart that feels too big in her chest to worry about who can tell.
“What do you mean?” She asks again, snorting at the way it immediately causes Chaeryeong to frown and pout.
“You know what I mean. But if you want me to spell it out for you, I mean you and Yeji-unnie being all lovey-dovey.”
Ryujin cringes. “Please never say that again.”
Chaeryeong shrugs. “You asked for it.”
“When exactly did I do such a thing? What did I say?”
Chaeryeong comes over to sit beside her, heaving a sigh as she does. “You can be so annoying, Ryujin-ah,” she says. “But just so you know, if you ever decide to do something about it, we’re with you. Jisu-unnie would probably cry tears of joy, and Yuna’s going to lose her mind.”
Ryujin hums, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. “And you?”
Chaeryeong reaches over the pat her knee. “I’d be happy for both of you. But please don’t break each other’s hearts or do ungodly things on surfaces we share. Anyway, all I’m saying is to think about it. It’s not a bad thing, you know?”
“I know,” Ryujin murmurs, unable to fathom how anything about Yeji could be anything but good.
“You’re happy with her, and you annoy her because you annoy most people, but she’s also happiest with you. Sometimes, it’s just that simple.”
Ryujin digs an elbow into Chaeryeong’s side. “Stop nagging. You’re such a mom.”
Chaeryeong pouts at her. “Just trying to help.”
“I promise I’ll think about it,” Ryujin says, giving her a small smile. “Happy?”
“Very.”
Satisfied, Chaeryeong gets up to bodily drag her companions away from whatever’s keeping them, and Ryujin watches in amusement as a bleary-eyed Jisu and a wide-eyed Yuna breeze by, barely managing to wave goodbye before Chaeryeong closes the door behind them with a cheery smile.
Ryujin checks the time on her phone and estimates that it’ll be another couple of hours before Yeji decides to join the living if all the chaos didn’t wake her up. Either way, she doesn’t feel like sitting on the couch, twiddling her thumbs, and thinking about things she’d already studied from every angle. So, she gets up to start breakfast instead, stuffs her earbuds into her ears, and decides not to be surprised when she opens the fridge and automatically wonders what Yeji would like to have for breakfast.
She manages to plate the food and make lemonade by the time she thinks she hears a door open and close. Yeji doesn’t come to find her, so she doesn’t rush, focusing on her task instead. She knows that Yeji needs a little time to adjust to being awake before anything. A part of her wishes she could be there just to see her blink slowly, lips curling up into a lazy smile the moment she sees her, and this is how Ryujin knows that she’s really too far gone to be doubting things and being uncertain.
It's another half hour before she finally wanders out of the kitchen.
“Yeddeong?” She calls.
She hears a faint, sleepy, and amusingly formal yes? coming from the living room, and she finds Yeji curled up on one end of the couch, still wrapped in her blankets, eyes closed, hair a mess. Ryujin sits beside her and pats a knee until Yeji groans and lets her feet fall to the floor.
“Where are the others?” She mumbles, half-slurring her way through the question as Ryujin lays on her lap.
“They’re out for the day. Did you forget?”
“’M not awake yet,” Yeji answers, uncurling one arm from where it was tucked under her head before resting it lightly on Ryujin’s waist.
“I can see that, sleepyhead. Guess I’ll enjoy breakfast by myself then,” Ryujin says, smiling to herself when she feels the weight on her waist get instantly heavier. “Too bad. I made strawberry waffles and bacon.”
Yeji’s quiet for a moment like she’s contemplating what she wants more, if it’s strawberry waffles or sleep. Ryujin gets what she wanted to see when Yeji sighs, opens her eyes, and smiles sleepily down at her. She resigns herself to the way a breath rushes out of her like it’s been punched out of her chest, the way the words to what might have been a tease or a joke aren’t there when she reaches for them, the way her hand finds Yeji’s without even needing to think about it.
“Strawberry waffles?” Yeji asks, threading their fingers together.
“For me. Make your own breakfast.”
Yeji whines. “Not even a little bit for me?”
“Nope,” Ryujin deadpans.
“Okay,” Yeji shrugs, dropping her head on the armrest. “I guess I’ll sleep a little more then.”
Ryujin gets up, hiding a grin the moment Yeji’s hand latches on her shirt. “Suit yourself.”
She tugs herself away from Yeji’s grasp, steps out of reach, and speed walks to the kitchen. Yeji predictably scrambles after her, and Ryujin gets as far as the counter before an arm snags her by the neck, pulling her gently against a warm body.
“Got you,” Yeji says, tone brighter and more awake than it was just moments ago.
Ryujin snorts and tries to think past the things she wants to say but can’t figure out how to. “Go set the table.”
“So, I do get breakfast waffles and bacon?”
“Maybe.”
Yeji takes it as the confirmation that it is, and she lets her go in favor of doing as asked.
Breakfast is a familiar thing, something that feels a lot like coming home. Yeji takes a bite off of her waffles, chews carefully, and makes this small, soft, delighted sound that makes Ryujin want to cook for her, to do something for her, to make her grin like that every day of her life.
“Good?” Ryujin asks.
“Delicious,” Yeji answers in between chews. “Thank you.”
Ryujin smiles because how can she not? Yeji throws compliments left and right, and Ryujin has heard them all because this isn’t the first time she’s cooked for someone else, but like everything else, it’s different when it comes from Yeji. She means it, always, and Ryujin basks in it, a silly part of her wanting to puff up her chest in pride. She manages to rein the urge in, and instead, she watches Yeji in between bites of her own food. Everything tastes sweet and warm and perfect, and Ryujin can’t be bothered to figure out if it’s because of the food or the company.
She thinks about it.
She thinks about it when Yeji offers to wash the dishes, telling her about the late-night phone call she had with her family, how Hongsam kept whining at the phone and how Insam just kept barking. She thinks about it when she comes fresh out of the shower to find Yeji scribbling into her diary, back bent, and head tilted in concentration. She thinks about it when Yeji joins her back on the couch, decked in her comfiest house clothes, sits right next to Ryujin even though there’s nothing stopping her from taking up the other end, and asks her what she’s watching.
She thinks about it until she’s scared that it might just spill out of her, a truth she doesn’t know how to hold or how to offer.
They end up watching a mindless romance movie that Ryujin isn’t particularly interested in. Yeji notices about halfway through and leans against her side to get her attention.
“You’re not even watching,” Yeji says. “Do you want to watch something else?”
Ryujin shakes her head. “No, I’m good.”
“You look like you’re annoyed, Ryujin-ah,” Yeji says, chuckling a little.
“It’s predictable. I’ve seen better.”
“Yeah, but I think it’s nice.”
“What? To drop everything just to move to a whole new country for someone you don’t even know if you’re going to marry?”
Yeji snorts. “Don’t be mean. But to answer your question, yes. I think it’s nice to be so sure about someone that you’re willing to take a chance.”
Ryujin looks away, suddenly feeling as if she’d been scrubbed raw.
“What do you think it would feel like?” Yeji asks.
“Terrifying,” she answers without thinking it through. “They may be sure about each other, but it’s still new territory. Who knows what can happen when anything can happen? Can they stay together, adjust to something new, and make it work? But, at the same time,” she pauses, heart racing in her chest, unsure if she wants to go down this road. “I guess, I see what you mean. It’s nice to be sure about someone that even if everything else changes, they can always have that one thing they can come back to, the one thing they can fight for, that one thing that might just be important enough to beat the odds against them.”
Yeji pulls back, and Ryujin keeps still, steadfastly ignoring the feeling of eyes burning into her skin.
“You sound like you know what you’re talking about,” Yeji says. “Are you… Are you in love, Ryujinnie?”
The denial is hot at the tip of her tongue, a reflex more than anything. She works past it because she’s sure. About Yeji, if nothing else.
She sighs, closes the laptop, and sets it aside. Yeji’s look is a little unreadable, curious at least, and Ryujin wants to know if her name might be something Yeji thinks about when she wonders about love.
“What if I am?”
Yeji swallows, picks her words carefully. “Are you happy?”
“She makes me happy if that’s what you’re asking,” she answers, taking in every detail of Yeji’s face, the way her eyes widen a little before softening.
“Well,” Yeji says, moving to face her fully, one leg folded on the couch. Ryujin’s not sure if her voice really did tremble or if she’s just hearing the things she wants to hear. “Tell me about her.”
“You’re so—” Ryujin cuts herself off, not really sure what she was going to say or how she’s supposed to feel anything else but this big thing in her chest at Yeji’s easy acceptance. She tucks her legs underneath her, leans her temple against the back of the couch, and closes her eyes. Even like this, Yeji is all she can see.
“She’s too kind for her own good sometimes, but she knows her worth. She knows when she’s doing good or she’s pretty and isn’t afraid to claim it. But she’s also harder than herself than anyone I’ve ever known, and she has this tendency to take on the world and forget that she isn’t alone. She doesn’t let herself cry nearly as much as she should, and sometimes, that scares me because I don’t know if one day, she’ll drown.”
“But you’ll be there for her. I know you, Ryujin, you wouldn’t let someone down,” she hears Yeji say quietly. She pauses, then, “She sounds like a catch.”
Ryujin snorts. “Of course, she is. I have good taste. She’s not perfect though. She takes far too many selfies, for one. Her English needs more work because sometimes, she just ends up creating words that no one can understand. She eats a lot of snacks even though our fridge has healthier options. She doesn’t sleep enough, especially when she’s stressed or when one of us is stressed. Honestly, I think she needs to take better care of herself. And she definitely needs to learn how to lean on someone when it’s too hard for her to take alone.”
For a moment, the only sound Ryujin can hear is her own beating heart, loud and pounding in her ears. She has never been one for uncertainty, doesn’t like how it settles like lead in her gut. She dares to open her eyes and see for herself what taking a chance might have led her to.
Yeji isn’t breathing. It’s the only thing Ryujin notices before the air rushes out of her lungs the moment she sees the look on her face.
It's raw and vulnerable; wide-eyed, hopeful, and afraid. She's looking at her like she could break her heart and Yeji would let her, lips parted like there’s something she wants to ask.
It’s all Ryujin needs to see.
She offers a hand in the space between them, palm up. Yeji takes it like she didn’t even think about it, grips her fingers when she feels them shake.
“Are you—” Yeji says, voice barely above a whisper, gaze dropping down to Ryujin’s trembling bones then back up.
Ryujin can see that she’s struggling, so she keeps herself still as best as she can, suspended in time, waiting to see if Yeji will be there to catch her from her leap of faith.
Finally, finally, “Is it me?” Yeji asks, the words as shaky as Ryujin is, flinching almost imperceptibly like she’s already expecting the answer, the heartbreak, the things that will come if Ryujin says no.
Ryujin releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She moves closer until her knee brushes against Yeji’s, curls her fingers into the collar of her shirt, tugs her forward until they’re close enough that she can rest her forehead against Yeji’s.
The hold on her hand tightens in response, Yeji’s breaths coming out short and shallow.
“Ryujin,” she murmurs, eyes watery.
Ryujin smiles. “Silly girl, who else can it be?”
Something in Yeji falls apart. She swallows harshly, pulls Ryujin’s hand until it’s resting against her chest right above where her heart should be, her other hand coming up to cup Ryujin’s cheek with the kind of tenderness someone might have when they’re holding something precious and pretty and priceless. Ryujin closes her eyes and surrenders to it all.
“It’s me?” She hears Yeji ask again, small and innocent and so, so hopeful.
“It’s you,” she whispers, nuzzling her nose against Yeji’s, stomach tightening when she hears a whimper.
“It’s you for me, too,” Yeji breathes out in a rush. “It’s been you for so long that I—” she chokes. “I didn’t even know I could love someone as much as I love you. I didn’t know what to do, what to say, if you even—”
“—I do,” Ryujin says, strong and sure. “I love you.”
Yeji melts into her, and Ryujin needs her closer, so when she feels the hand on her cheek tilt her face up, she lets it happen.
“Can I kiss you?”
And Ryujin is done waiting, so she leans forward, closes whatever space was left, and kisses her. She wants to remember everything about it, learn who Yeji is this way, how she tastes and holds and meets her halfway. But she can’t think about a single thing when Yeji breaks away only to push forward with another kiss, letting her hand go to wrap an arm around her waist, when she licks clumsily at her bottom lip with a question Ryujin answers by opening her mouth, when Yeji keeps taking her breath away until she’s left gasping, trembling, and wanting.
Ryujin wants to keep doing it again and again, wants to lose herself like this, wants more. But she pulls back when she feels tears drop on her cheeks, opening her eyes to the sight of Yeji’s flushed face.
“You’re crying,” Ryujin says, voice hoarse.
Yeji takes her hand from where it had been resting against Ryujin’s cheek and brushes her fingers against her own cheekbone. “Oh,” she whispers sheepishly, smiling something small and shy.
Ryujin laughs a little and does a thing she has thought about doing more times than she cares to admit. She kisses Yeji’s tears away, tastes the salt in them, relishes the way she hears her breath hitch.
When she pulls back, she finds herself on the receiving end of a brilliant smile.
“What was that you said about my snacking habits?” Yeji asks.
“Potato chips aren’t proper meals,” Ryujin deadpans.
“And my English?”
“Have you even done your homework yet?”
Yeji huffs and pouts a little. Ryujin rolls her eyes but can’t quite bite back her grin.
“Come on, you big baby. I’ll help you,” she offers, disentangling herself before pulling Yeji off the couch.
Yeji links their pinkies together and tugs her back into her space as soon as they’re both standing.
“I love you,” she says, soft and adoring. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, and you’re right. It’s scary. But I’m sure about you, Shin Ryujin.”
Ryujin decides that homework can wait and kisses her for that.
(Chaeryeong gives her a look when they come home to find Yeji dragging her around by the hand. Ryujin sighs and pulls Yeji in mid-step, dropping a kiss on her lips that leaves Chaeryeong with her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline, Jisu gasping then hacking out a lung, and Yuna screaming her vocal cords dry.
Yeji blushes and hides in the crook of her neck, and Ryujin can only laugh in response, so full, so happy, and so in love all at the same time.)