Conciliation

Two weeks have gone by. Two weeks since the incident in their dorm room. For Yunah, it’s as though that night never happened. It was just some afterthought that had been shoved down in the deep corners of her memory, as though she would sooner forget and have Moka pretend it was nothing at all.

Moka thinks of nothing else.

She thinks about it in her classes, daydreaming when she should be practising. Rehearsals have become a stop-start procedure, with everyone turning to Moka with the same question: are you okay? She feels so pathetic. Embarrassed at herself, but still thinking, wondering, wishing, that maybe tonight might be that night; that Yunah might snap at some point and give her just a single touch.

She’s thought about doing it again, just the same way, touching herself while Yunah is around. Even the mere idea has Moka wet with shame. It would work, surely, it has to work. Then Moka talks herself out of it. Doing it again, trying to instigate a reaction, she may as well just confess, beg, and plead with Yunah. Admit that she likes her. Tell her just how crazy it makes Moka when she walks around the room in only a t-shirt and panties. When she shakes her hair loose out of a ponytail, her brunette hair cascades in the moonlight, looking so soft and thick, and Moka can’t get over her.

They’re on their way out of the country, for another big show. Another sleepless night spent travelling. Another opportunity for Yunah to glare at Moka when she’s obviously not focused or too busy stumbling through her moves. Another opportunity for her to sit there, only her and her dirty, little thoughts.

There’s a slight turbulence, enough to make the sleeping Yunah move in her seat, her head rolling to the side. She looks peaceful and beautiful. That same fringe she’s so particular about always ends up in her eyes, so naturally, Moka wants to reach up and push it away, but she forces herself back, that’s the last thing she wants; to wake her and look suspicious.

“Not sleeping?” A voice from the other side, makes Moka tear her eyes away from Yunah and find Minju. Minju gives a curious look at Yunah before returning her gaze to Moka.

“Can’t sleep,” Moka confesses with a sigh.

Minju doesn’t reply at first, the look she is giving, makes Moka believe she is contemplating whether she should share or not. “Me neither. Keep thinking about tomorrow.”

Moka hums a vague affirmative in response. She wants to appear agreeable and that she isn’t preoccupied with the thoughts of someone else.

Minju gives her a wry smirk. “What about you? You keep spacing out.”

Her question strikes a chord in Moka. For some reason, she can’t deny it or lie about what’s been going through her head, and even when she should probably deny it, Moka still finds herself talking about her. “Have you ever liked someone who hated your guts? Like so much it physically hurts,” Moka can’t help the questions slipping past her lips. It’s pathetic really. She should know better, and she knows she’s saying too much and too openly, but it’s not her fault. She just can’t handle it all, not for another minute.

“Are you saying there’s a guy you like?” Minju asks, which at least offers Moka the reassurance that the others haven’t realised what’s going on; why else would she ask that? “You know we’re not allowed to date anyone, Moka.”

“I know, and I’m not going to date anyone, but I can still like someone, right?”

Minju laughs. “Yeah, you can do what you like,” she replies while stealing another look at the older girl across from them, sleeping. “So why does he hate your guts then?”

“Well, I—”

Yunah sighs, breaking the conversation as the pair suddenly falls quiet. They freeze like deer caught in the headlights of a car as Yunah, shifts in her seat, adjusting her position before relaxing again. There is a relief between them, letting out a heavy breath at the realisation that their friend is still very much asleep.

“Lucky her,” Minju finally says, shaking her head. “I can’t wait for us all to be back in our hotel rooms and having some proper sleep.” Minju sighs, turning back to Moka. “You were saying?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it, forget I said anything,” Moka rambles. She finds herself silently cursing herself. If the truth of her desires slipped and spilt out, there’s no telling what kind of trouble she would be in. But Minju looks at her in a strange sort of understanding, nodding and giving her a reassuring smile.

Moka returns the sentiment and lays her head on her friend’s shoulder. Her heartbeat starts to slow down, and as time passes, sleep draws in, luring her into its clutches, and at last, her eyelids flutter shut.

-

It’s 4 am and they’re shambling into the hotel lobby, weary, eyes burning, muscles tired, with sore shoulders and legs.

“We’ve booked rooms for you all. We just went with the same arrangement as the dorm,” the manager explains, sending Moka’s heart crashing. She and Yunah. Of course. She nods weakly and trudges to the lift alongside her members.

Yunah opens the door, and Moka follows. They haven’t spoken a word to each other. The moment the hotel door is closed, and Moka drops her bag on the floor, Yunah takes off her jacket, hanging it on a hook. Moka slips her shoes off, trying her hardest not to make eye contact.

“Moka?”

Fuck. Why couldn’t she just walk past without saying anything? Moka’s cheeks feel hot. Why now? She glances up, and the look she receives from Yunah doesn’t give anything away.

“What’s gotten into you? Are you sick?” She snaps, walking right up to her. A rough hand takes hold of her chin, forcing her face up and it shocks Moka so much that it knocks her off her axis for a moment.

There she is. Again. So close. It takes a moment, or three, to figure out what she even said. Moka goes to shake her head, but with her face being held so firmly in place, it’s impossible. “No, I’m fine.” She swallows. “Just a little nervous.”

“Why are you lying to me?”

Her face is still gripped, she’s forced to keep eye contact with her and she hates it. She hates that her skin prickles as Yunah’s beautiful gaze pours down.

“Whatever,” Yunah says incredulously, her hand holding Moka’s jaw. Moka nods as best as she can and then she’s released. She misses her touch the moment Yunah’s hand is gone and she’s left to drop her head. “We can’t have you being distracted tomorrow. Just get it together.”

The older girl retreats into the bathroom, closing the door and leaving a disgruntled Moka alone. She could scream, but instead, she swallows down her frustration.

Moka undresses and slips into her shorts and tank top. She flops onto the soft covers and waits. Curses and empty wishes run through her mind; her fist tightens into a frustrated ball and her eyebrows furrow. How is she supposed to do anything like this? How can she think about anything other than her?

Soon, Yunah returns, but all Moka gets from her is silence, nothing, absolutely nothing, and yet here she is, lying and waiting. Pathetic, it’s downright fucking pathetic. She takes a deep breath and lets herself turn and stare at her back. “Yunah?”

“What?”

“Why did you make me feel good?”

“You talk about that like it meant something,” Yunah responds, turning her attention away from her phone. Her beautiful hair fans out against the pillow.

“Did it?”

Yunah responds with her own question, “Did you want it to?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry.” She turns her attention back to her phone, effectively dismissing her and the conversation altogether.

“Please—”

“Goodnight, Moka,” Yunah bites. Her tone leaves no more room for discussion. No room for questioning.

Moka clamps her mouth shut, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. What more could she say? How many ways could she plead with her before it becomes demeaning? But the silence in her room makes the ache between her thighs feel unbearable and impossible to ignore.

It’s nearly an hour later when Moka gives in, dipping her hands between her legs. She rubs against the front of her shorts and shudders as she teeters on the brink of losing her senses and giving in to her desires. But the bed shifts, the sheets move, and she stops.

Yunah rolls over and she looks at Moka, as though expecting her to do something, anything. The eye contact alone has Moka feeling so small and helpless.

“Do it,” Yunah whispers.

“W-what?”

“I know you want to. These past weeks you’ve been so distracted. I know you’re always thinking of it, of what happened, what I did. I see the way you look at me.”

“I… I’m sorry.”