Stargazing.

Wishing stars have always been nothing but bullshit to you.

Wishes are for people who want things handed to them.

You never wanted anything handed to you.

“Hi… huge fan!” You said, taking your seat, with a shaky-stuttering practiced Korean phrase, holding out the album to Wonyoung, her taking it.

Wonyoung signed it, before handing it back, “I know, Osaka girl right?”

“You remembered?”

“Of course, its hard not to.” She paused, “Beijing, Seoul, Tokyo and others, you’ve been in a lot of fansigns” Wonyoung stated with that practiced, but less guarded smile that you noticed she does on your third time seeing each other.

You blushed, she knows. “I.. so... flew out here again....”

“Indeed, we’re in Seoul and y—”

“Move in line please” The coordinator called out from behind you, cutting Wonyoung off.

“It’s been nice seeing you again.” Wonyoung spoke before turning on to the next girl in the line.

2 minutes.

In the 12 fansigns you attended, fighting jetlag, and spending an enormous amount of money.

You accumulated around maybe, 25 minutes of Wonyoung’s time on Earth.

The stars — streaks of silver cutting through the sky before fading. They feel wrong — too bright, too close.

“Disappointing.” You said as you took a spot beside your sister.

“Oh hush! make a wish!” She said, pointing to one of the falling stars.

“You know I don’t believe —”

“Make. A. Wish!”

“Fine fine… geez” You relented, before looking up.

"I just— " You exhaled. "I want her to know my name. Not as the Osaka girl. Just… Y/N"

“What’d you wish for?”

You pushed her away. “You’re the one who said to not tell it or it won’t come true”

“It’s about Wonyoung isn’t it?” She giggled. “Keep the delusion sister” She pushed herself off the railing. “Come on, lets go back”

Then, the universe decided to be kind.

You woke up with a specific warmth covering your body that you doubt is your blanket nor your own body heat, something is pressing close to you, something breathing — something alive. The room doesn’t smell like your room, something more refined, more expensive.

You turned carefully, opened you eyes, and saw,

Wonyoung, peacefully sleeping arms draped around your waist, her long legs over yours as tightening her hold as you shifted.

“W-W-What…” You whispered, she stirred, kissing you deeply before grinning.

“Morning babe…”

“B-Bab —” You decided not to question it. “M-Morning..?”

“So, the usual for breakfast?” Wonyoung sat up as she stretched, a few joints cracking that felt familiar to you despite not ever hearing it.

“Uh-huh… sure”

The usual, apparently, was your favorite.

And, you clocked this when you stood up, your belly is bloated and there is a kicking creature inside of you.

You don't question the pregnancy. It exists, people never question stuff that they wanted to happen.

Years passed, your daughter, who Wonyoung named Haein grew up to be exactly both of you — Wonyoung's confidence and your stubbornness, somehow amplified into one small gremlin.

She had Wonyoung's eyes and your height. She argues about bedtime and will cry if she doesn’t win. She made Wonyoung cry at her first recital by waving specifically at her from the stage.

Sunday mornings were yours — Haein wedged between you both, refusing to sleep in her bed, her small feet somehow always in someone's face.

Wonyoung humming in the kitchen.

Haein's drawings on the refrigerator.

The specific weight of a sleeping child on your chest.

You grew old in that house, with them. Happy. Complete.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a voice saying wake up.

Ofcourse, the universe decided to be cruel.

“Wake up..”

“Please..”

Unnie?

You woke up, the steady beeping of the electrocardiogram and the white blankets meeting your senses. Your sister hugging you tightly.

“W-Where.. is she?”