Liking is Suffocation

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Liking An Yujin is difficult. Especially if you’re her best friend, Jang Wonyoung.

“And here it is! My life’s greatest work. Well, up until now at least. Here, professors, allow me to introduce to you my thesis.”

Liking her means staying silent by her side for the past eight years—

“As you can see, this is an unmodified rabbit. While this? This is a rabbit infected with what I like to call Compound KJ.”

—means hovering around Yujin far enough to remain within her orbit, but not close enough to be more than friends—

“When Compound KJ is administered into the blood stream, it effectively turns off apoptosis while continuously maintaining other regular cellular functions.”

—means pushing out of every square meter of comfort zone that Wonyoung has built for herself over the past two decades just to make more room for Yujin—

“In order to ensure the sustained life of the creature, Compound KJ helps accelerate the stimulation of the adrenal medulla, promoting the synthesis and circulation of epinephrine throughout the body.”

—means stifling too-hearty laughs, tempering too-wide smiles, extinguishing too-vivid fantasies—

“With both of these combined, the organism can enjoy the benefits of what should now be known—if I do say so myself—as the first medical case of induced functional immortality—ACK!”

—means desperately begging for some sort of translator to help her figure out what these lines and gestures and signs from Yujin really mean, and not just what Wonyoung thinks they are, not just what Wonyoung wants them to be—

“Haha, sorry about that. Just a little bite on the thumb is all. I-It must have felt … trapped i-i-in my … my p-NGHH … in m-ARGHHCK my palm …”

Because quite frankly, for Jang Wonyoung, liking Yujin is a push-and-pull. A tug-of-war against an opponent who can send her crumbling with but a grin and bring her to her knees with but a command. An endless game of hot potato with a woman who isn’t even sure what colors tinge the heart upon her sleeve—leaving even Wonyoung unsure of her own chromaticity. 

“No … no what’s … I-I-I don’t HNGHH—what’s going on … what’s going—?”

Because for Jang Wonyoung liking Yujin doesn’t feel the same as liking any of her other crushes. 

“I … I can’t breathe … I can’t b-LARRRGHHHCKLLLL—breathe!”

Because for Jang Wonyoung liking Yujin isn’t just difficult.

“HELP ME—!”

It’s suffocation.

Wonyoung can’t breathe.

It’s just her and Yujin again at the film club clubroom. They’re the only ones without a third period. The others are still stuck in lectures, and the pair are just waiting for them to get back so they could all go out for lunch. It should be a trivial affair—waiting for their other clubmates. Their other friends. But if these walls could speak, they would tell of a different story.

Movie posters framed on the wall would point out how Wonyoung’s gliding closer and closer to Yujin across the leather couch. The lit projector in front of them would shine its beam of light against the small of Wonyoung’s face to highlight the flush of her cheeks. The several laid-out Handycams and other recording devices would capture the moment Wonyoung’s neck would tighten and tense before pushing down another reserved gulp.

It’s just the two of them here, but why does Wonyoung feel like all the eyes are on her?

“Heh, check this out, Wonnie,” her best friend coos, not even lifting her gaze off her phone as she leans towards the other girl. “It’s a pretty nice beach, isn’t it? Look at the waves. You think we can go surfing there?”

“Ya, do you even know how to surf?” Wonyoung teases, her breath hitching at the end of her chuckle. “I can already imagine Liz flopping off her board over a small wave. Isn’t she from there? Maybe she can get us booked for a trip—our graduation trip maybe.”

“Oh, I was … thinking about just you and me. You know? Solo trip?”

The dull glow of Yujin’s phone hums through the silence as the two girls stare at each other.

“I-I-I mean like not really a solo solo trip since we’ll be going together,” Yujin stammers, and Wonyoung watches in realtime how her best friend’s tongue trips onto itself over and over again. “But hey, yeah … yeah probably better as a graduation trip for all of us.”

You idiot. Why did you have to go and take it back like that?

Rolling her eyes, Wonyoung retreats to the confines of her own personal space on the couch. This withdrawal immediately makes Yujin pout, but Wonyoung glances away in time to avoid catching her puppy stare. “Whatever you say.”

Silence. Silence once again.

Yujin’s been her best friend for eight years now. Wonyoung practically has her more memorized than her favorite film—About Time. It’s sappy and cheesy and plays at your heartstrings. Wonyoung’s blissfully aware of that. But if she had the ability to go back to key points in time with Yujin, she’d use it to figure out and uncover what had happened between them.

When did it all go wrong.

Was it freshman year of high school, when she refused to kiss Yujin at a game of spin the bottle during a sleepover? Wonyoung knew she could have kissed her on the cheek, or on the forehead, or even on the hand. But the glaze in Yujin’s eyes told a different story. That she was nervous. That she was unsure. That she was scared. She didn’t want to do that to her best friend, so she ended up downing a whole bottle of beer instead as punishment—her first ever alcoholic drink too, mind you. All Wonyoung remembered that night was murmuring to herself as she puked into her friend’s toilet.

Was it during the senior ball, when Yujin invited Wonyoung to dance with her? They both couldn’t find any dates—well, for Wonyoung, she had a grocery list of boys who each tried to take their shot and ‘prom-pose’ to her, but she didn’t really know any of them too well to be comfortable with them for a whole night attached to their arm; and well, for Yujin, she had the same experience but with mostly girls, and she turned down each one. All they had at the end of the day was, once again, each other. Wonyoung remembered agreeing to dance that night, taking her by the hand, both of them suppressing their giggles, prancing across the gymnasium with their awkward footwork, roaming eyes never knowing where to linger, twitching fingers never knowing where to rest. All Wonyoung remembered that night was embracing Yujin in the middle of the slow dance and thanking her for being her friend. Her best friend.

Was it during sophomore year of university, when Yujin had cut her hair way too short for the first time? She asked the girls for ideas for a new haircut now that she was on the school’s women’s basketball team. They told her to get a wolfcut, but she ended up getting something that was way more chopped than that. The others made fun of her for it, but Wonyoung found it adorable. Very fitting for a girl with golden-retriever energy like her. Until others started to take notice of Yujin. Until other girls started looking her way more. Until the captain of the cheer team—Yu Jimin—dragged her to the changing rooms and kissed her on the lips. Wonyoung only knew this because she was waiting for Yujin to get off practice so they could review for the midterms together. All Wonyoung remembered that night was how Yujin’s hands were all over Jimin’s cheeks and sides, how leaned she was into the kiss, how apathetic her gaze was when she opened her eyes and spotted Wonyoung by the doorway.

It’s impossible, really. Eight years with a woman like Yuijn, and to this day, it feels like they’re both still navigating around each other. If only Yujin would make the first move and take initiative for once. If only Yujin would stop turning to her phone whenever it was just the two of them alone together. If only Yujin would just for once in her life hold Wonyoung by the hand, look Wonyoung in the eyes, and tell her what was going on—what was happening between the two of them—then maybe, just maybe, Woyoung would finally have some peace of mind, some clarity to help her finally—.

Breathe, Wonyoung reminds herself, unaware of how tightly she’s clutching the hem of her shirt. Breathe … just breathe.

What … was that all about?

But Wonyoung knew. Wonyoung knows what that’s all about.

Because when she peeks to the side at Yujin, and she catches the faintest smile creep across her best friend’s lips, there’s a warm ember igniting in her chest. A cinder that permeates her very being and scatters across her body to put a smile on her face as well. A flame that makes Wonyoung’s slender digits traipse across the couch once more like a spider scuttling towards Yujin’s own hand. A blaze that consumes Wonyoung at the sight of Yujin chuckling at her phone once again and seeing what—or rather, who—she was laughing at.

Yu Jimin.

Wonyoung withdraws rapidly once more, placing her interlaced fingers atop her lap, and sighs. Her lip trembles ever-so-slightly for a second, but she pulls the words back from her mouth and drags it all the way back down her throat and into the deepest pits of her stomach.

There’s quite the bountiful amount of oxygen in the room. But whenever Jang Wonyoung is alone like this with An Yujin, the latter seems to draw all the air out of her.

Because this is what it means for Wonyoung to like her best friend Yujin for the past eight years.

It’s suffocation.

Wonyoung nearly gets a heart attack when her held breath is rattled by the bursting open of their club room door.

“Fuck me, fuck my life. I am never recovering from that bomb ass presentation.”

Rei tears through the torn streamers and assortment of props littered across the floor as she makes her way for the armchair and crashes face first into it. Liz, who is right behind her, tiptoes towards her best friend, but not before bowing in recognition to the other two already in the room. “Ya, it wasn’t so bad—.”

“Dude, I kept saying the wrong name during one slide and my professor didn’t even think to correct me until it was all over,” Rei mewled, punching the padding of her seat. “It was fucking embarrassing, Jiwon ah. Then my mind blanked out when he asked me to compare Seligman to Rogers.”

Rubbing the back of Rei’s head, Liz squats down to her level next to the armchair and whispers, “You did well. You did the best you could. Take it easy, jagiya.”

When Rei finally peeks out from hiding, she lunges for Liz and buries her face in her arms instead, leaving the other girl chuckling all the more and swaddling her. “You big baby. You’ll be fine. Nothing some ice cream can’t fix.”

Wonyoung bit her lip. She can neither fight the swell of her cheeks into a grin nor the ache in her teeth over watching all this unfold before her. Rei and Liz have only been friends for four years—half the time Yujin and Wonyoung have been with each other. And yet, Wonyoung can’t help but envy them.

Wonyoung isn’t sure what they are either, but she believes that, to them, it hardly even mattered. As Liz fluffs Rei’s cheeks and tells her all about her own experience presenting her thesis on Wagner’s latent leitmotifs and Stravinsky’s subtle atonality, Wonyoung herself melts at how easily they fit together. At how comfortably they seem to mesh with one another.

How they just work. How they make it look easy.

Whatever it is that they have, Wonyoung wants that. Wonyoung thinks liking someone—whether as a friend or something potentially more—should look like that. Should feel like that. It should be like a warm cup of hot chocolate after a tiring winter day. Like a show you can just put on and enjoy without having to think about it too much. Like a breath of fresh air once you’ve resurfaced from the hustles and bustles of life.

Instead she’s stuck with this: a game of hot potato on a sweltering summer day, a drama that leaves her constantly on the edge of her seat with no catharsis in sight, an asphyxiation of her own volition over someone who might not even want to resuscitate her.

And while she’s agonizing over all of this, Yujin’s just right next to her, scrolling on her damn phone again, keeping to herself. Or, well, holing herself up with Jimin in their own little e-space once again.

What will it take for Yujin to gain even the slightest of sensibilities? Does Wonyoung have to throw herself onto the other woman just for a shred of her time? Just for a modicum of her attention?

No. Wonyoung has more self-respect than that—.

“Wonnie—.”

“Hm?” Wonyoung perks up, dropping her shoulders. “What’s up?”

She could have sworn Rei and Liz were muttering something to each other just now, but she chooses to ignore it, throwing her hair back and leaning towards Yujin again as the other girl holds up her phone. “Do you listen to PinkPantheress?”

“Yeah? I literally blast her music here all the time.”

“Jimin says she’s having a concert here in a few months. We’ll be on summer break by then, so … want to—I don’t know—maybe try and get some tickets? Might be a bit expensive though.”

Jimin. Again.

Whether she should be giddy that Yujin invited her to something or irritated that the idea came from Jimin, Wonyoung instead tries to cut through the noise in her head and focus on what Yujin’s talking about. “What summer? Girl, we’re graduating next month. There isn’t going to be a summer for us anymore. It’ll just be work from here on out.”

The whole room falls silent.

The realization hits Wonyoung fast as well. 

They’re all on their final term. This is the last semester that they’ll all spend together like this. While they’ve never really talked about what their plans for the future—for beyond college—were before, deep down, Wonyoung knows they were all thinking the same thing.

They’ll all be going their own separate ways afterwards.

And when the implication of this sinks in, Wonyoung can’t help but look Yujin in the eye. Even if she still has hers glued to the ticket prices on her screen.

It’s a tale as old as time. The film club will be no more. Their friend group will drift apart as life takes hold and their individual priorities take shape. There will no longer be any coffee runs to a groggy Yujin in her dorm room. There will no longer be any borrowing of sports wear in the cramped changing rooms for physical exams. There will no longer be any exchanges of glances down the packed corridors, no more late night review sessions through the dimness of the library, no more heads-on-shoulders on bus rides home or bumping elbows walking down the university lane or cloudgazing on the grass on random Thursday afternoons.

Once they graduate, there will no longer be any daily Yujin for Wonyoung. No more shared spaces, spontaneous moments, or little happenstances that they can share with each other. For once they graduate, being together will no longer be a given for the two of them—or for all of them even. It will have to be a choice.

And even after eight years, Wonyoung’s not even sure if Yujin will even choose to be with her.

If Yujin will even choose her.

Three raps on the door catches everyone’s attention as a smaller girl dips her head in. “Ya, it’s unusually quiet in here. What’s going on?”

None of them speak. They simply watch as their common unnie—Kim Gaeul—steps into the room with their common maknae—Lee Hyunseo—in tow right behind her.

“Are you guys already done with your finals? How did it go, how did it go!” the youngest among them raises, swinging her arms back and forth as she holds onto Gaeul’s. “I watched Gaeul-unnie’s defense, and she was amazing~. I think she’s going to ace—.”

A pillow smacks her in the face. “Good for her, but I don’t even want to hear it right now.”

Picking up the thrown projectile, Hyunseo fluffs it and sets it down on the couch next to her, where Gaeul already was. “Rei-unnie! I’m sure you did well too. I watched you hand draw the assets you used for your deck over all those lunches too. I’m sure you did fine~.”

The poor girl didn’t see Liz slicing her neck with her thumb to shut her the hell up. But Rei did, which sent her best friend into a deep blush as she covered Rei’s face with one hand. “A-Anyway, we were—I mean, Wonyoung was—talking about summer. Our plans for the summer?”

“Summer, huh,” Gaeul repeats, calling Leeseo over right next to her. “Wait, come here, your hair’s a bit messy. Let me braid it for you.”

Beaming like a child, Hyunseo sat with her back towards Gaeul and held her hair to one side for her. Wonyoung watches as their unnie wove her hair like it was made of fine silk. She can’t help herself from smiling as Gaeul pampers Hyunseo’s hair, tugging on it gently here and there to see if there are any uncomfortable knots. When she finishes, she holds up a hand mirror for the younger girl and even offered to take a few pictures for her to use on Instagram.

Wonyoung wants what they have. Specifically, she wants to be treated like Hyunseo. Gaeul’s that way with everyone: she’s thoughtful to a tee, accommodating to a fault, and self-sacrificial to an unprecedented extent. She makes everyone she meets comfortable just by being there. At least, Wonyoung always feels comfortable being with Gaeul. She might have even had a crush on their unnie at some point, but that was just a moment of weakness—who wouldn’t have felt a fluttering in their chest after being picked up at a bus stop in the middle of heavy pouring rain by their ever-reliable unnie?

Gaeul would be a good girlfriend, a good partner, she thinks to herself. Whoever ends up taking space in Gaeul’s heart will definitely be one lucky person.

She wonders what that might be like—having a girlfriend.

Wonyoung knew early on that she wasn’t into guys. They always gave her an ick she couldn’t explain before she even knew what liking someone even meant. It wasn’t until middleschool, when someone teased her for always being around her prettier classmates, that she understood how she really felt about others.

She only likes girls.

So while she barely imagined herself in situations with men, she has perhaps too-many-a-time thought about situations with women.

And such thoughts about her friend group was no exception.

“Eh? There’s something in your eye,” Rei beckons towards Liz, but when the other girl bats her lashes and stoops down so the former can caress her thumb against her nose, Rei smirks. “Oh, never mind. Just a trick of the light.”

Rei would be the smooth-talker type. Always trying to butter you up because that’s how she flirts. 

“Y-Ya, you’re unbelievable,” Liz stammers in reply, tucking a tuft of her hair behind her ear as she straightens up, still sitting on the arm of Rei’s chair. “And here I thought I still had some morning glories on me. Do you … want me to check if you have any yourself?”

Liz would be silent lover. You’ll never catch her saying it out loud, but she’s always thinking about you.

“Hmmm, I don’t know unnie, I think Professor Kwon’s a bit strict. If she ever agrees to write you a recommendation letter, she might make you earn it. Oh, how about Professor Im! I heard she’s really easygoing~.”

Hyunseo’s like a younger sister to me—I could never see her that way. But I hope she ends up with someone who can nurture the childlike wonder in her heart. She’s too precious for this world.

“You know what, you’re right—I’ll consider Professor Im. Maybe Professor Park too from our department,” Gaeul ponders, holding one of Hyunseo’s hands and bouncing it on her thigh. The toothy smile on her sparkles even under the low light of the club room. “I just … I just want to secure everything before I start doubting myself again. For post-graduate studies. Thank you, Hyunseo ya. Maybe I’ll treat you to some dessert later after all.”

Gaeul’s the easy choice—a no-brainer. If you end up with her, you’ll never have to worry about feeling loved, feeling secure, feeling wanted. She makes you feel that way so effortlessly that it physically HURTS to see her still single and unappreciated like this.

“Psh, idiot. Who would even do that?” Yujin mutters to herself. As if feeling Wonyoung’s gaze on her, she lifts up from her phone momentarily only to dart right back to it when they accidentally make eye contact, her lips tightening now along with her focus.

Then, there’s Yujin.

Wonyoung would be lying if she said that she’s never thought about dating An Yujin before. If she earned won for every time Yujin’s entered her mind—forcibly or out of her own volition—she’d have enough money to buy a whole luxury villa down in Seoul’s UN Village by now.

How could she not? Yujin’s a woman sculpted by the heavens specifically to capture her heart.

Tussling her chin-length hair, Yujin angles her head backwards to take a better-looking selfie amidst the terrible lighting of their club room.

Her wolf-like demeanor that’s a facade for her puppy-like energy. The curl of her lip when she’s trying to be assertive. The bite of her tongue when she’s focused on something. The taut of her neck, the squint of her eyes, the sharp of her jaw when she’s staving away unwanted attention—unwanted presences.

“O-Oh shit, shit!” the same girl exclaims as she drops the same phone she was just holding. It lands butter-side-down, making the woman seethe through clenching teeth. Pretending like it didn’t happen, she nicks it back up and immediately rubs the sleeve of her university jacket against the screen.

But she’s a big goofball too. The biggest one I’ve ever met. The way we sometimes just burst into laughter for no apparent reason when we’re together. The way she knows how to signal to me for something or to let me know what’s going on with a glance. The way she always pouts when I ignore her or spams me with messages when she knows she messed up.

Their eyes meet. But this time, Wonyoung doesn’t pull away. She smiles at Yujin, who is now aware of Wonyoung watching her this entire time. There’s a widening in Yujin’s eyes for a moment, but her dimples form on her cheeks when she lowers her chin in embarrassment and tries to hide behind her lifted phone.

Click.

It’s soft, but it’s far from subtle. Wonyoung rolls her eyes, but that isn’t enough to stop Yujin from staring like an idiot at the candid shot of Wonyoung now spread out on her phone’s screen.

She’s ridiculous. Unbearable even. But … that’s An Yujin for you. 

That’s An Yujin for me.

As Yujin flashes her the edited picture—with freshly minted devil horns attached to Wonyoung’s head too—Wonyoung can’t help but sigh and feel that all-too-familiar sweltering in her chest again.

That’s my An Yujin.

“So are we just not going to talk about it?”

Rei’s words shatter Wonyoung’s heart as the poor girl thought that Rei was referring to something else. But when the spectacled girl drops onto the floor and scoots over towards the center of their ‘lounge’ area, she glances up at the other girls and shrugs her shoulders. “About graduation?”

Gaeul joins her on the floor, and Leeseo follows suit. The two other girls form the beginnings of a circle on the ground. “Well, we’ve got some time now, don’t we? One last club meeting before we close things off for the year?”

“Unnie, you make it sound like we’ll never see each other again,” Liz points out, kneeling next to Rei before settling down on the flats of her feet.

“You’re all making a big deal out of this. We’ll still see each other. And meet. And have reunions. It’s not the end of the world like what princess over here’s making it out to be,” Yujin retorts, gesturing for Wonyoung to come join her on the floor as well.

Wonyoung dislikes sitting on the floor. Nobody ever bothers to clean up their messes, and god forbid the janitors never get a chance to come and clean their club room because they’re always in it. But just this once, Wonyoung will allow it, tucking her skirt behind her before sitting down. “Whatever. We’re all here now, so?”

Neither of them have really thought this through.

But Gaeul’s already raising a hand, and when all of them look to their unnie, she chuckles at their sudden stares. “What do you girls want to do before we graduate? We have—give or take—eight or nine more weeks until then. That’s plenty of time, I think.”

“Oh! I want to camp out at the Science Complex gardens and see if the ghost stories are true~. Maybe see if I can get that trick Eunchae told me about to work on the vending machine at the natural sciences workroom. Or or, maybe even steal something as a keepsake from one of the classrooms. Nothing big like a fire extinguisher though, but something more like a laser pointer or a remote?”

“Ya, Hyunseo ah, those are things you want to do by yourself! I meant together. Us doing things together. A final bucket list of sorts before graduation,” Gaeul clarifies.

“No, but she’s onto something though,” Rei interjects, patting the inside of Liz’s thigh. “Jagi, didn’t you say you found a good spot behind the Humanities building for camping? Camping together with you lot sounds like it would be fun.”

“A-Ah, but that’s already close to the forest. Who knows what’s hiding in there …?” Liz raises, shrinking into herself. “But I won’t say no to camping. Maybe we can visit a beach too? I know a good spot back at home as well.”

Yujin snaps her fingers and points at Liz. “Bingo. Wonnie and I were just talking about it earlier, yeah? We could have a beach trip. Get some beers, maybe set up a grill. We could light up some fireworks too while we’re at it.”

Wonyoung shakes her head with a smile. “There she goes again. She wants to go to the beach to try and surf, by the way. How about we go somewhere closer to home too? Let’s rent out a whole movie theater together. We’re the film club, and we’ve never gotten to do that yet. Not even once. Can you believe that?”

“And whose fault is it that we’re all part of the film club in the first place, Ms. University Council Vice President?” Gaeul teases with a raised brow, gesturing to Wonyoung with puckered lips. “You and your theater sunbaes dragged us into this mess, so I think it’s only fitting that you and Yujin cap it all off for us too.”

Of course, the old theater club.

Back when Minju, and Yena, and Yuri, and Nako, and Hitomi were all still around. Back when Yujin and Wonyoung were just fledgling freshmen in need of any sort of club or organization to be a part of—to belong to. Back when they’d return to the club room each day wondering if there was going to be another Jenga crashout or a song-and-dance showdown or a hecking food fight. Back when life was simpler, and when things were laid out for them, and they had their unnies to show them the way.

Now, at the denouement of their college life, such a burden rested on their shoulders.

“I … I only ran for Council with Yoona to preserve the club and this room. Even if it meant changing names to make things easier for us. It’s … it’s what they would have wanted.”

“Sure. We all know you wanted to preserve this club and the room for Yujin anyway.”

The words came flying out of Rei’s lips before Liz could elbow her, but the damage had already been done. Yujin already got to shoot Wonyoung a look—a look she can’t just easily dismiss.

“I … What I … I mean this club … it’s as much as hers as it is mine, a-and—.”

Gaeul squeezes her forearm and nods. “It’s ok. Whatever the reasons are, I’m just glad you kept pursuing them. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have met you two—met you all—during the second term if you hadn’t.”

“Unnie’s got a point. Even if we aren’t too serious with club stuff most of the time, I’m happy I got to meet all of you like this,” Hyunseo joins in, placing her hand atop Gaeul’s.

“Are we doing some sort of huddle right now? This is a huddle, isn’t it?” Rei asks before putting her hand on top of Hyunseo’s. Liz pinches her cheek before resting her own hand atop Rei’s as well. “Accident or choice, we found our way here. To each other.”

Yujin snorts and places her hand underneath Gaeul’s, but not before helping Wonyoung place her hand properly beneath hers. She doesn’t say anything. She just smiles up at Wonyoung.

“We’ll … still always be together, won’t we?” Wonyoung asks them, her voice somewhere between a plea and a demand. “No matter what happens to us?”

“No matter what,” all five of them said in unison, and when they realize this serendipitous coincidence, they burst into laughter and withdraw from the huddle.

“Alright, I’ve had enough sappiness for one day. Liz ah, let’s go get some lunch. I’m fucking starving,” Rei beckons as she shoots up and dusts herself off. “You losers want to come with or what?”

“I think I’m fine. I just want to chill for a bit before my next class. I’ll hold down the fort in case you two want to come back,” Yujin offers, sliding back onto the couch, this time stretching her legs out now that Wonyoung isn’t on it as well.

“I-I think I’ll stay too. It’s a lot colder in here than at the canteen. Might as well maximize using the club room too before we graduate,” Wonyoung replies.

Rei looks like she’s about to say something, but Liz already has her arm locked around hers and is tugging her out the door. “Ya, jagi, how about we get some ramen today at that one place just outside of campus?”

“Mmm, ok now that’s an offer I can’t resist. Let’s get takeout so we can eat with Moka and Minju too. They should be free right about now.”

As the pair disappear past the door, Hyunseo lingers on the floor next to Gaeul and Wonyoung. “Wahhh, I’m not that hungry yet. Besides, I don’t have class until sixth period anyway.”

“How about I help you practice for your own presentation, hm?” Gaeul offers, already kneeling behind their youngest. “Didn’t you say you aren’t too confident in your lines yet?”

“I could, unnie, but I still have time~. I just want to get cozy before then, mm,” Hyunseo purrs, stretching her body like a cat would all sprawled out on the floor like she owns the place.

“Aiya, you shouldn’t get complacent,” Gaeul encourages, helping Hyunseo up to her feet. “Besides, let’s not interrupt what’s going on here.”

“Hm? What’s going on here, unnie?”

But Gaeul just hushes her with a ruffle of her head and points her towards the door. Glancing over her shoulder, their eldest winks at Wonyoung, who mouths in reply thank you.

Now, it was just the two of them. Just Yujin and Wonyoung. Again.

Wonyoung waits for Hyunseo’s whines and whimpers to fade farther down the hallway before clearing her throat. “I’m surprised you want to stay here. I would have thought you’d wanted to meet Jimin instead—.”

“We’re not dating. We’re not even remotely a thing, princess. How many times do I have to keep telling you that?”

Pursing her lips, Wonyoung glances at the space between the couch and the floor as she fights back a blush. She knows that. She worries still despite knowing it, but she just wants to hear it from Yujin time and again. “I don’t know, Jinjin. She’s all you ever talk to when I catch you on your phone.”

“You’re watching what I do on my phone?”

Wonyoung shrugs, padding a bit closer to her while still on the floor. “You’re not doing a good job of hiding it.”

“Why would I need to hide it? You sound like a crazy ex right now, you know?” Yujin raises, her tone sounding mildly annoyed, making Wonyoung worry for a second. “Besides, it’s just idle chatter. Small talk. She sends me reels and videos, and I just kinda reply to them.”

“You never send me any of those. Those Tiktoks.”

Yujin puts down her phone and chuckles. “Princess you don’t even use Tiktok. You’re the most chronically offline person I know.”

She’s right. Wonyoung doesn’t even know why she thought to argue that.

“Is something wrong? You’ve been tense all month, Wonnie,” Yujin asks, and it scares Wonyoung because this time, Yujin isn’t talking with her—she’s talking to her. Full body language and eye contact and all. “Are you still worried about the succession?”

“I’m surprised you even remember that,” Wonyoung mutters. It was supposed to be a thought, but even she’s surprised by how easily it slipped out. “But yeah, I mean, no. We’ve got it covered. Jiyu’s running for vice and Asa’s running for president. I think they’ll be fine.”

“Then is it about the forum? How many times are you going walk me through your exhibit before I start to memorize every little detail about your pitch.”

“I … have that covered as well. The only thing that might worry me about the business forum is Yuna showing up drunk as hell.”

“She’ll manage. Chaeryeong’s probably keeping her sober until graduation,” Yujin reassures her, turning her body on the couch to better face Wonyoung. When she catches the younger girl still staring at that unseen spot beneath her, she whistles and gestures with her chin. “So what is it? You can’t possibly be worried about gaining weight again—?”

“Why are you so nosy all of a sudden?” Wonyoung snaps, raising a brow. “You’re the one who sounds like a crazy ex right now.”

They share a brief pause before similarly breaking into laughter.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Yujin shakes her head and sighs. “I miss this. Just … just talking to you like this.”

“Yeah? Clearly not as much as you miss Jimin.”

“Hey now.”

“What? I’m just pointing out an objective truth.”

“Objective truth my ass, princess. But really, Wonnie, I-I … it’s been too long. It’s been too long.”

Wonyoung holds out a hand hoping Yujin might take it, and for some reason, she actually does. Wonyoung doesn’t have the confidence left in her to look up and see how Yujin might be reacting to this, so she instead leans her temple against the edge of the couch and just holds her best friend like this.

Out of sight, out of mind. At least, that’s what Wonyoung thinks.

But all she can picture in her mind is whether Yujin’s blushing as much as her or not.

“How’s the team?” Wonyoung starts, her palm practically both frozen and sweating buckets into Yujin’s broader surface. “You barely talk about them anymore. I thought a captain ought to be more proud of her players, but last I heard anything about the women’s team was the quarterfinals.”

“Yeah, we don’t talk about that quarterfinals,” Yujin murmurs, her thumb caressing the back of Wonyoung’s hand. “The team’s still really beaten up about it. Haven’t really been training the same way since then. My term as captain’s coming to a close too, so … yeah. Haven’t really chosen the next captain yet. I’m still a little … bummed out myself over not making finals this year. Of … not living up to expectations again.”

Wonyoung squeezes her best friends palm to steady her, changing the focus of the topic as quickly as she can to distract Yujin a little.

“Haum might be a good pick for captain actually. She’s really good at spotting you when you need to score. She’s a tough cookie too. Won’t be too easy on the rookies that join next year,” Wonyoung suggests, which gets Yujin to sit up a little straighter now. “Wait, since when have you … Huh, color me impressed, princess.”

“What? You think I’ve been watching all your games for the past eight years for nothing?”

Wonyoung can’t see it, but she’s imagining Yujin doing that thing she always does when she’s caught off-guard—crinkling her nose so hard that her dimples show. “You know, if Kwak heard that, she’d go absolutely insane. She’s got an eye for you. Always catch her staring when you visit training.”

“And you let that slide?”

There’s a pause followed by a heavy breath. “What’s … that supposed to mean?”

“You tell me, Jinjin. You’re always getting in the way of me talking to Ryujin when I come over and spectate.”

“That’s different. Ryujin’s actually flirting with you, you know that right?” Yujin explains, and Wonyoung just lets her. It’s cute watching her act protective all of a sudden like this. “You can’t possibly think her moseying up to you in between breaks and asking if you’re free after practice is all ‘friendly’. Coming from someone like her with a track record of being—.”

“You’re jealous?”

Yujin hangs her head off the edge of the couch in such a way that her breath tingles Wonyoung’s flushed cheeks, and looks Wonyoung in the eye. “I’m just looking out for you. I-I don’t want you to be dating someone who—.”

Wonyoung blows into her face and pushes it away with her free hand. “Whatever you say.”

Tucking her visage away from her best friend, Wonyoung bit down hard on her tongue.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

When Yujin motions like she might let go of Wonyoung, the younger girl doubles down and chases her touch. Holding her down. Firmly. “What do you even know about dating? You’ve been single all your life.”

“Joke’s on you, princess, but so are you.”

“Well, are you going to change that anytime soon?”

That’s what Wonyoung wishes she could have said. That’s what Wonyoung’s been meaning to push out of her constricted throat for eight years now. But even to this day, she finds herself unable to do so.

Unable to breathe.

“What … do you mean?”

“What?”

“About changing something? What did you mean by that, Wonnie?”

Wonyoung’s eyes stretch wide enough to swallow an entire galaxy. Did she …? Did she really just …?

She turns around and sees Yujin staring down at her from her perched position on the couch, gaze relentless, not letting Wonyoung out of her sights—not even for a second. “Wonyoung …?”

Wonyoung actually said it out loud.

Wonyoung wants to kill herself.

But just before she could do anything hasty, the bell signaling the arrival of the next period chimes throughout the Student Activities Center, reminding everyone who has a next class to start hauling ass towards their lecture halls and laboratories—reminding Wonyoung to breathe again.

Shaking her head, Wonyoung drags her fingers out of Yujin’s clutch and smoothens out her skirt. “It was nothing. I have Econ 185 now, so—.”

“Why are you like this?”

Wonyoung freezes in place, one arm hovering above her bag by the window, casting a shadow against the slumped stuffed toy of Hyunseo’s by her feet—the one she had won at the university fair two years ago. She doesn’t think of turning around—she doesn’t dare face that question as the mere lingering of it in the air burns into the sides of her nape. “You never finish saying what you really mean. Always just—bottling it up. Until it bursts. Until you’re alone. Where you can control your mess.”

“I-I don’t know what you mean—.”

“Bullshit, princess,” Yujin asserts, and there’s the sound of footsteps and motions now. Until Wonyoung can feel her larger presence behind her. “You always have to look so … so pretty and perfect in front of everyone that you’re scared of letting anyone in. I just … I just thought I’d be an exception.”

Wonyoung spins around and thrusts a finger into Yujin’s collarbone. “You … you don’t get to say that.”

“Me?” Yujin chuckles, palming a hand over her mouth. “What—?”

“You don’t get to say that to me of all people because you do the same,” Wonyoung fires back, pressing into Yuijn again. “Whenever someone tries to check in on you it’s always gotta be after hours of pushing yourself on the court, after dragging your drunken ass back to your dormitory, or after you finish bitching about why Jimin blocked you on Instagram for the third time that week.”

“Ok, Jesus fuck—we had a fling. We dated for a bit! Lightly. Mostly, lightly … Nothing serious. We were just experimenting, alright? There—are you happy now? You’ve proven your point.”

“That wasn’t my point, but good to know.”

“Bullshit again, princess. Your panties are always in a twist whenever I even just so much as whisper Jimin’s name,” Yujin growls, leaning into Wonyoung’s accusations now—figuratively and physically. “Half the reason why I don’t even tell you things these days is because it will end up like this again.”

“Like what again?”

“Like … ugh, I don’t know—figure it out yourself. Or something,” Yujin groans, ruffling her already messy mop of hair. “Look, I don’t even know how we got here, or why we’re even here in the first place, but I … I wanted to talk to you earlier. About something. In private.”

“Well, you had your chance, An Yujin. And you blew it,” Wonyoung spits before slinging her backpack on one shoulder and pushing out of Yujin’s person. But Yujin is faster. And stronger. So she’s held by her wrist now.

“I said in private.”

Wonyoung can’t even pretend to not know what that means. She understands in a heartbeat what Yujin’s referring to—the rooftop. The highest floor that’s off-limits to all students at the General Education building.

Their spot.

“What do you even have to say to me there that you can’t just say here?” Wonyoung questions, trying to wriggle free from Yuijn’s grasp. “Just say it.”

“I would have if you weren’t acting like such a bitch again. Besides, the mood’s been spoiled, and I was hoping for a more—.”

Whap.

Her hand moves before she can even think of it. Wonyoung’s palm connects so sharply against the side of Yujin’s face that the other girl stumbles backwards a few paces in recoil.

“Whatever you wanted to say … I don’t want to hear it anymore. Tell the others I’m not coming to the club room later after classes.”

“Wonnie—.”

“Goodbye, Yujin.”

“Wonyoung, wait—!”

Wonyoung slams the door shut right in Yujin’s face as she darts down the corridor.

Different club rooms lining both sides of the narrow strip, different students peering from their vacant periods to see what the commotion is, different professors greeting her by the lobby when they see her dashing by, but she doesn’t stop for any of them.

Wonyoung just wants to get as far away from there as possible.

She can’t breathe in there anymore.

Wonyoung always knew that all it would take to get her mind off things was, well, time away from said thing. Out of sight, out of mind, or so she would preach. 

Unless that very thing was An Yujin.

No amount of technical blather from her lecturing professors or driveling lines and charts from her textbooks are enough to scrape every last bit of Yujin from her mind. Especially not after what she had said earlier. Especially not about what they had fought over.

When Wonyoung thinks about it, head tilting towards the window next to her like she might be a flower needing the comfort of the sun’s rays, she can’t even figure out what exactly it is that they argued about. It feels like it was about everything but also nothing significant at the same time. Like a breeze turning into a hurricane before remembering that it was, in fact, meant to be nothing more than just a gust of wind.

But something deeply unsettles Wonyoung.

“I would have if you weren’t acting like such a bitch again. Besides, the mood’s been spoiled, and I was hoping for a more—.”

There it is. There it goes again. 

Wonyoung has to smack herself in the forehead to pause that moment from replaying yet another time in her mind, earning her a few concerned and confused looks from her seatmates. Ducking down to the level of her desk, Wonyoung throws her own jacket above her and sighed.

She wanted to talk to me about something. But what? Why couldn’t she have just asked me there? Why did she have to make such a big deal about … whatever that was … earlier?

Forcing her eyes shut, Wonyoung’s legs kick frantically in the air.

Why did I have to make such a big deal over … Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Relax. Breathe. Why am I so bothered by what she has to say? What would she even say that might mean something—anything—to me?

One specific little idea comes to mind, but Wonyoung casts it aside before that thought can even develop into a full-on fantasy.

I don’t have to meet her. In fact, not showing up to the rooftop is for the best. It sets a precedent, yeah …  It puts the foot down on us—whatever we are—and lets Yujin know that wasn’t very nice of her earlier. Ha, that should tell her. She thinks she can keep getting away with … with … 

Whatever. It’s about sending a message. Loud and clear.

Wonyoung showed up to the rooftop half an hour before their usual meeting time.

Immediately, Wonyoung regrets it. Not only is she early, but she’s the first one here. Yujin’s going to think this little meetup of theirs has been eating away at Wonyoung all day since lunch. That she got here ahead of schedule because she was restless.

What happened to being firm? What happened to sending a message?

Clearly, the only message that Yujin will be receiving about all this is how Wonyoung can’t say no to her. The exact opposite of what the younger had planned.

But was that really so wrong, Wonyoung thought.

Elbows digging into the mottled concrete balcony, the young woman gazes down at the university like one would a model train set.

Two girls run up to another from father away, and after showing each other bundles of papers, they all scream with joy and begin spinning in a circle together. A bus marked with the school’s logo is pulling into a shaded area to unload the rest of the archery team after—presumably—another off-campus tournament. The fields of grass that stretch until the outskirts of the forest around them all bend and sway to the tune of the late-afternoon summer breeze, apathetic to the wave of heat that comes with it.

Wonyoung combs her fingers through her own flowing hair and sighs. She never really gave it much thought before—about how numbered her rendezvous up here would be as graduation quickly approaches. Never considered how much of a privilege it’s become to have a spare quiet moment like this, when she can just disconnect from the ribble and rabble of college life beneath her feet. Never treasured the small moments, the slow moments—instead of metering every experience and opportunity that came her way to see how it measured up against the pathway to her dreams.

Wonyoung never liked time feeling like molasses against her skin. There was always something to do, somewhere to go, someone to be. And she enjoyed living like that—from one commitment to the next. But once in a while, on afternoons like this, as the sky turns golden for a few ephemeral moments, Wonyoung thinks to herself that maybe—just maybe—stopping the timer on life once in a while wouldn’t hurt.

Could even be good for her soul, actually.

What am I even going to say to her? What am I even going to tell her? Wonyoung thinks to herself, gaze swapping between the football players scrambling around the field like a bunch of ants and this herd of students running away from the Science Complex for some reason. If she doesn’t apologize, I’m not apologizing either. Who does she think she is?

But one memory of Yujin whining against her seat like a lost puppy in Speech 30 later, and Wonyoung’s heart is set aflutter once more.

That girl …

Nine raps on the door to the rooftop. In a certain pattern. That’s her. That’s their secret knock. One that they would only use to signal to the other that it was them—specifically them. Wonyoung locked the door earlier on purpose to force Yujin to use the knock. Let’s her know when she’s arrived sooner. Let’s Wonyoung prepare a bit more.

But if her pounding heart is any indication, she’s anything but prepared.

Nine raps again. Hurried. Someone can’t be bothered to wait it seems. But Wonyoung’s keen on making her wait. Just a moment longer. Just enough time to recollect herself—or at least try to.

Wonyoung takes a deep breath and turns to face the door. “If she … if she for some reason brings up anything of that sort … I swear to god An Yujin—I’m going to slap you harder than I did earlier—.”

Nine raps. Pounding against the metal door. Followed by scuttling and some other muted noises.

Something’s off.

As Wonyoung glides over to the door, arms crossed beneath her chest, she leans into it to try and make sense of what she’s hearing. But it goes quiet for a while. Too quiet. Like Yujin had just left and was playing tricks on her. Like Yujin wanted to scare her or something.

“You don’t scare me, Yujin. I know you’re still there,” Wonyoung called out with a lilt in her mockery. “Keep slamming the door, and I just might lock you out for—.”

A multitude of raps. Never-ending. Desperate.

“Won—. —please—. —up!”

Rolling her eyes, Wonyoung’s satisfied by the seeming alarm now in Yujin’s voice. She’s cruel when she wants to be, but she’s not that cruel. Relenting to her best friends demands, she motions to unlock the door and open it for her.

But before she can do that, the knob bursts out of its socket and the door comes swinging right into her.

Everything happens so fast.

One moment Wonyoung acted all arrogant on her own two feet, a moment later and she’s slammed onto the ground, her lower back flaring up from the pain of the sudden impact.

One moment Wonyoung could have sworn she saw three figures emerge from the doorway, a moment later and she sees a disheveled Yujin—hair askew, jacket tattered and ripped in places, marks of red against her skin—throw one of the figures off the balcony.

One moment Wonyoung was preparing for the slightest of chances that Yujin might finally confess her feelings to her, readying herself for how she might receive the news she’s been dying to hear about for years now.

But a moment later and the woman she’s liked for almost half of her life is now wrestling another student into the ground.

“Wonnie—nghh, WONNIE RUN!”

She can’t process it. She just couldn’t. “Y-Yujin? Yujin, what’s going on?”

As if to answer her question, the student Yujin’s trying to pin against the ground lunges for her torso and takes a large bite into Yujin’s side.

Wonyoung isn’t sure what’s louder—her own scream of fear, Yujin’s own scream of pain, or the tearing of flesh from muscle and bone.

Because as Yujin collapses onto the floor, Wonyoung now gets a better look at her aggressor.

Eyes glazed over with a heavy fog, mouth agape covered in dribbling blood and drool, bones and joints bending and twisting in angles that should not be humanly possible—Wonyoung recognizes what this is. They might have seen this in a film or two before. In the types of movies that they would binge watch on Halloweens.

Wonyoung can’t believe her eyes, but she knows better than to doubt its existence right now when the very specimen of fantasy is right in front of her.

It’s a zombie. It’s a bloody freaking zombie.

There will be time for explanations later. The time for survival is now. Crawling across the rugged rooftop floor, Wonyoung scrambles over towards the bolt cutter Yujin stole from one of the university workshops and hoists herself up, readying the makeshift weapon in front of her.

“Yujin … Yujin what’s going on?”

Wonyoung’s cracking voice makes the zombified student turn towards her. Righting herself on all fours like a monstrous spider, she dashes up to her like a quadruped and launches herself at Wonyoung—her next meal.

THWUMP.

Wonyoung’s no batter, but she swings that bolt cutter like she’s Babe Ruth ready to score another homerun.

By sheer force of luck, the heavy end of the tool smashes into the woman’s jaw and shatters it from her skull, leaving her mouth slack and loose as the zombie collapses onto the floor.

Wonyoung isn’t taking any chances. She opens the cutter by the handles, glances away, and with a scream, she digs the blunt opening against the student’s neck and begins clipping it like she would her own fingernails.

In moments, the screams of pain from the student are drowned out by the screams of terror from Wonyoung as she blindly snips the zombie’s neck open.

Once she can’t hear anything anymore, Wonyoung opens her eyes and drops the cutter by her side. “Oh god … o-o-oh god …”

She fights the urge to vomit as the sight of the lifeless corpse—neck and collarbone now opened up looking like a fleshy iron maiden—stares right at her.

She did this. Wonyoung did this.

But the gurgling and writhing from across her grounds her back into reality. “Yujin!”

Picking the tool back up and lugging it down low by her side, Wonyoung rushes up to her best friend, who swipes her arms around her as if to ward her off.

“Yujin, what’s wrong? What the hell is going on? Who are those two, a-a-and what did they do to you—?”

Squeezing her still-bleeding side, Yujin limps towards the balcony on her right and struggles to stand straight. “I-It’s bad down there, prin—GHLRKK—princess … Just … just came to warn you … as fast … as I c—BLARGHHH—could …”

“Y-Y-Yujin …?”

The movies lied. They lied to her. 

From what little she’s managed to peek at in between the spaces of her raised fingers, the horror movies always made it seem like one bite—one point of infection—was all it took to immediately transform someone into the living dead.

But they were wrong. They were all wrong.

Because the transformation’s a slow and painful one.

Because Wonyoung had to watch as Yujin turned into one of them before her very eyes this way. She had to witness as her best friend ’s throat spasmed along the length of its muscle, boiling against her flesh. How her eyes would struggle to maintain any semblance of focus, dipping in and out of consciousness as the wax of white fought against the deep warm brown. How her voice might produce sounds and words that may seem intelligible to Yujin herself, but came out as gibberish to Wonyoungs ears. And the worst of it all? How her body started to twist and turn and contort and crack into something otherworldly altogether.

The last word Yujin manages to get out as she glances up at Wonyoung through teary glazed-over eyes hits swift and sharp.

“R-Run—.”

Wonyoung recognizes the very instant the zombification takes over her. Where Yujin should be glancing away and recoiling at the very notion of eye contact, this zombie version of her leaps towards and reaches out for her instead.

In the blink of an eye, Wonyoung’s knocked back onto the ground, the back of her head ramming against the surface, rendering her weak and immobile.

Before she can even register it, a pair of bloodied hands come around her neck and strangle her into the concrete, squeezing out muted whimpers from her, choking out pained tears from her reddened eyeballs.

“Y-YCKK-Yu—gasp—ack—jin … Yu— …”

But there is no more Yujin.

As Wonyoung stares up at what once was her best friend—at what once was the greatest infatuation of her life—she finally realizes that this no longer is An Yujin. No longer the Yujin whose warm hands would soften and loosen up her aching shoulders from her poor posture. No longer the Yujin who would drool over the simple oven-baked cookies Wonyoung would prepare for her every other week. No longer the Yujin who would press up close against her only to pull away by the next heartbeat.

An Yujin is gone. And yet, why is Wonyoung still struggling to reach for the cutter and bash her—this thing’s—head in?

Instead, Wonyoung smiles up at her tormentor, gazing past the misty pools of gray swirling around her eyes, and caresses her bloody and sweaty cheek.

“I … —‘m … s’- … -rry …”

For eight years, Jang Wonyoung has always believed that liking An Yujin isn’t just difficult—it’s suffocation.

And now, Wonyoung is willing to suffocate to death by the hands of her beloved.

Just for Yujin.

Just for her.