less of you

"Where are you?"

"I'm out."

"Out where?"

"What does it matter, Yunjin. You're out all the time."

The line stays silent, and you can almost see the way her face contorts into hurt at your words.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." You lean on the brick wall of the alleyway, cool night air blowing away cigarette smoke.

"I'm not out. I'm working."

"I know, baby. I'm proud of you." The words are empty; it's not that you don't mean them, it's just they've been said time and time again. Like the weight of the words has been slowly leaking, drifting into the air.

"I'm coming back next month." Maybe you were wrong about how her face contorted. Maybe it wasn't even hurt. Maybe it was that despondent sort of apathy that came with being disappointed one too many times. Maybe she didn't even make a face, just listened to the words and felt nothing. "We're delaying the European leg. Just for a bit. I'll have a week to chill in Seoul."

Maybe you don't feel anything either. Maybe you're used to it all, the routine, the calling, the : "hey, baby how was the show? You looked great up there, can't wait to see you again". Maybe you're used to being alone, connected by a landline to someone who was equally alone, except for the whole world screaming their name.

"I don't even," you pause, and no, you do feel something. You feel it all.

"You don't even what?" she asks, and you don't know if it's despondence, hurt or anxiety, the way you get anxious over whether a couple words will tear your apart.

"I don't even remember what you look like sometimes."

You imagine she's hurt.

She doesn't call you the next 3 weeks. You've stopped watching all the fancams, stopped keeping up with all the interviews. It's too much, to see Yunjin smile when all you want to do is scream.

It's a tad dramatic, but just by a bit. You've gotten used to it. You can sprawl on the bed, stay out late. You never have to say no to the invites. It's all just a distraction, all some misdirection so you don't have to stare at that burning red fire in your heart that says you're lost without her, though.

You're leaning on the wall of the bar again, long drag of the cigarette wafting when you call her. Your friends are probably looking for you, but that's alright.

"Hi."

"You awake?"

"Mmhm."

"I just… wanted to hear your voice." It's weird, to admit it. It's weird that it's weird. You've known her for a decade, been dating for half of that, but your voice still comes out all hoarse.

"I'm here."

"I checked on your mom yesterday. She misses New Yo—"

"I know. She called me last night."

The answer is short and testy. You get it. She's busy, hell, you are too. But at least you're here. You curse your line of thinking because this has always been Yunjin's dream. But still, it's enough for you to recoil and say: "Do you think it's better if we just, cut things loose?"

You hear the static through the phone, and it's like you're hearing the thousands of miles between you two, the month long trips, the after practice phone calls where she's tired and can't talk long, the good morning texts you forget to respond to.

You don't know why you said it. You know that it's just going to put more weight on the two of you, you know it's not what you want, it's not even what she wants. Maybe you just said it so you could hear something, some semblance of emotion in her voice.

It works. Her voice is strained and choked when she says "I don't know how to do this without you."

It's not fair. She's been operating without you the whole time. She says it like the weekly i believe in u texts you stopped sending a month ago were the only things that held her together, like you were her engine, or whatever the cliche was. "Then tell me what to do," you pleaded.

She's crying now, and so are you, outside a bar in Seoul while heaps and heaps of fans wait for her shows. The cigarette helps a little.

"Wait for me."

Is it bad to say you were nervous to see her? Is it bad that after nearly a year, you were scared? Honestly, you're glad she asked you not to go to the airport. There would be too many cameras there anyway.

Something in your soul shifts, you swear it, the moment you see her, the moment she steps out of the company car, with a face mask covering the face you can't remember. It's almost better that way, adds to the anticipation. Yeah, you're anticipating now, can't wait to see her, can't wait to hold her and tell her you're sorry and that you don't know how to do this without her either.

She's barely out of the car when she rushes to you, and she feels like home and honey and smells like she always does, like nuts and figs, and you do tell her, a crying mess you say: "I missed you so much".

"I'm such a mess, I need a shower," she laughs into your chest.

It's dangerous, you hugging this A-list celebrity outside an apartment in Seoul, but neither of you care. "I'm sorry for everything," you cry. "I just missed you."

You feel her smile into you. "I missed you too. He's looking, isn't he?"

You look to the company driver, scolding you with his glare. She's still working, she always is wherever eyes can see. "He is," you laugh.

"We should go up."

"Yeah, but you're comfy."

"C'mon, we can snuggle all night."

"You haven't moved either," you point out.

"Yeah, 'cause you're comfy."

"That's what I said. I thought it was time to go."

Yunjin loosens up a little, just enough so her face isn't glued to your chest and looks up to you. She looks at you, wanting and happy, but also tired and searching, like: yeah, this is all nice, but what about the past year? What about all the distance, all the dejection. It's gone in a flash. She pulls her mask down.

"Now do you remember what I look like?"

You lean in, and she closes the gap in a second. It's red hot fire, just like her hair, which is blonde now but it still feels the same, like flames in your hands as you run your fingers through it. She tastes different. She tastes the same.

Ahem.

You're forced up to the apartment, bowing a low apology to the company driver.

It's better this way. She showers, and you finally get to see the real her, the one you know, the one you fell in love with, not all glammed up for the cameras but raw and real and beautiful and just for you. You hold her the whole night, let her talk your ear off about the tour, about Eunchae and the girls, about New York and home, about how she wishes they'd add a Toronto stop so she could see your home, about how she's so fucking sorry if you felt like you were being ignored. And you tell her no, that you should be sorry and that you missed her so much. About how you were cranky because really, truly you don't know how to do this without her but everything is okay now, because she's in your arms and she feels like Toronto, and you tell her this until she falls asleep in your arms and you fall asleep in hers.