Coming together

A selfie. All it took was a selfie.

It’s still so vivid in memory: it happened on your last day of work together. You had both handed in your one month notice on the same day, ended that month on the same day, packed your things on the same day. The one month of banter bonding over individual ordeals brought you closer together than you ever had in the year and a half that you sat behind each other’s cubicles.

Of course you were going to end your workplace friendship with a selfie.

“Hey, Chaewon,” you called out to her, waiting at the elevator. She was alone, but you’d overheard earlier she’d go out for drinks with her former team. You were about to go out with your college mates too.

She smiled from ear to ear, eyes disappearing behind her bubbly cheeks. She was glowing – and though you’d love to delude yourself it was upon the sight of you, who were you kidding? She was free, as were you.

As you walked up to her, she paced quickly towards you, completely ignoring the elevator doors opening behind her. You met in the middle with a tight, warm hug.

“We made it!,” she squealed. “Fucking finally.” She let go of you, but stayed with your arm over her shoulder.

“Got that right,” you sighed. “Geez, didn’t think a month would take so long.”

“You going out tonight?,” she asked. “I’m going out with the girls.”

“I heard,” you admitted. “Got my own plans too.”

“Yay,” she cheered you on, smiling still just as enthusiastically as ever. You could feel your chest ache just looking at that smile, the way her cheeks just blew up as she did. God, she was adorable. Beautiful, even. What a shame it was to not have her beauty around you any more.

Here’s the thing: you hated selfies. Not only was it so dependent on self-confidence you didn’t have, you hated your face more than you hated selfies.

But for Chaewon? To have a snapshot of her face, just for you? To be able to indulge in your very obvious shallow infatuation with her? You could not have pulled that phone out faster.

You both entered the elevator. It was one of those very basic, stainless steel boxes with a single ring light. Nothing fancy, save for the full top-to-bottom mirror opposite the doors.

“Hey, Chaewon,” you gestured to your phone, pointing it at the mirror. You made a peace sign; she caught on, tiptoeing and putting half a heart on her cheek. You could feel your guts melting, present tense.

Then you swapped cameras. You winced as your face came into view on your screen, and she giggled.

“What was that?!,” she laughed. “You look great. Let’s go!”

With as much hesitation held back as possible, you did a few poses and angles that you felt might have satisfied all 20-ish years of your mother’s wishes for more pictures of yourself. When the doors opened, you stepped out and quite literally parted ways with Chaewon, walking in the other direction. You waved at her, she waved at you, and you were ready to go on with your agenda for the night.

“Wait!,” she cried out, running back to you.

“Yeah?”

“Can you send me the photos?,” she panted. “Do you have AirDrop?”

“Oh no, I’m not an iPhone user,” you apologized. “But maybe I could send it to you through Instagram? Or WeChat? Kakao?”

Chaewon giggled. “Yeah, screw it, we really should exchange contacts anyway.”

Something about that sentence made you giddy. You exchanged contacts, sent the pictures, had one last hug, and then actually went on your own ways.

That was your vivid memory: the clasp of her tiny arms around you leaving immaterial burns, tender on your torso; and the same burn on your arms, where it met her narrow waist and enveloped her back and front.

And you had your pictures, which you found yourself just smiling stupidly at in the backseat of the taxi you hopped into.

Was it weird that you just liked staring at them? Probably, even more so than having taken those pictures expressly to just look at them – to look at her. But you were now mutuals now; you could talk now. And that thought made you giddy.

When you got home, head woozy from alcohol, you simply threw your clothes save your underwear on the floor and crashed into the bed. You’ll sleep in and shower tomorrow – when fun employment begins.

But you weren’t sleepy. Hell, the entire time you were out, and throughout the rollercoaster of emotions the alcohol took you on, your fingers hovered between the apps: Instagram, Kakaotalk, WeChat. Instagram, Kakaotalk, WeChat. Chaewon, Chaewon, Chaewon.

Damn it all.

You knew it was infatuation. You weren’t so dumb as to mistake a crush for a chance at the real thing, but you’d be lying if you said that, at this moment, staring at your selfie together didn’t make you feel anything – because it did. It made your chest ache, it made you squirm and tighten your legs together, and you felt yourself imploding. Chaewon was just… cute. Pretty. Perfect.

So drunk on your infatuation that you mindlessly sent a message.

u home safe yet?

When you shook yourself awake, you cringed hard. What the hell were you thinking? You rushed to delete the message before you saw Chaewon typing a reply. Too late now.

yeah, been home for a while

And then, the selfie.

She sent the picture of herself lying down, head peeking out from her sheets with puckered lips. So simple, so silly, so nonchalantly, chestburstingly beautiful.

hbu?

You didn’t think. You just snapped a picture: your face from the nosebridge up, just your eyes, wide, perhaps slightly reddened, but just you staring into the camera.

yep, tucked in

no fair, i sent you my whole face

hahaha

goodnight

sweet dreams

you too 💓

The whole conversation ended just like that, your phone still opened to her picture. Your chest ached even harder, you squeezed your arms and legs in tighter–

And with a single motion, everything fell apart.

You felt your core tighten. You felt soft, but the repeated rubbing and squirming of your legs against your own pillow made it undeniable that you were twitching. You tried hard to resist the urge to bring a hand lower – hence your curled arms – but you could feel your hand slide down anyway.

And yes, you were hard.

You felt guilty, a rending in your chest that wanted you to stop. But you were so… vulnerable. She was so pretty, her eyes, her cheeks, her smile in perfect harmony.