there are things somin doesn’t know; that chaehwa doesn’t want to admit, even to herself.
such as: the way hope blooms in her heart like flowers in spring when her phone lights up with a text. the way her smile chips when she realises, it’s not from somin. the way each minute is ruined by hoping the next text will be from her. trying to stave off hope, the cause of all burden. fighting within herself to give in and text and risk appearing desperate, or not text and endure the dissonance of wanting A but being forced to do B. to attempt to get over someone who would never look at you that way, but always somehow gave just enough to keep you crawling back.
maybe deep down, she realises it for what it is: a crush. it’s not something she’d ever say aloud, though, not even think it – for the reality would be too painful then. she is head-over-heels for a girl who at best thought of her as a pet, some kind of amusement, a secondary choice.
so, she just smiles and pretends she doesn’t have these feelings, she pretends she’s as uninterested as somin is in the equation that is them. she lies to even herself, when the familiar hurt chips at her heart, she simply wipes her mind blank of thought and busies herself with a physical task – chores, housework, or assignments. she systematically carries out what she has to do each day, shoving aside her favourite moments spent with somin that cause a flutter in her stomach. she gives the same smile to somin the rare times they meet, to prove she’s not needy, no – she’s cool enough, detached enough for somin and what she wants – doesn’t matter what she herself wants.
(because she doesn’t want, right?)
but, it’s exhausting to lie – and maintain it. with each word leaving somin’s mouth, chaehwa feels cracks in the mask she wears. she’s carefully constructed this just for them, this cool façade in order to stay by somin’s side, and she – she just says things that couldn’t be farther from the truth, and before she knows it, she’s got her fingers encircled around the other’s wrist to stop her from leaving.
she should be happy. that was a confession.
and yet, all she is is hurt. angry.
“because i didn’t know,” she starts, confusion in her voice. simmering with undercurrents of anger. “how am i supposed to know, when you say things like this and then apologise like you don’t mean what you said, and then leave?” her voice is raised towards the end, the dam breaking.
“you’re the one who acts like you don’t know!” frustrated tears prick at her eyes. all her pretence, for nothing. because of course, she had only adopted this role after she’d been more or less rejected, right at the very start. so she’s a sucker who fell fast, sue her. “i’m on, like, fucking speed dial for you. you come to me only when you need to feel better about yourself. and i’m not angry about that, don’t get me wrong. i don’t mind it. i let you do it. but,” she takes a deep breath. “there’s a reason why i just let you do it, so don’t you dare say i don’t …” have feelings.
chaewha stops her from leaving and somin’s expression changes from one of embarrassment to one of confusion. she recoils and wraps her hand around her own wrist, still burning where chaehwa’s fingers had gripped it.
somin blinks, slowly, teeth digging into her lip.
she swallows and feels like the smallest woman in the world as her actions get thrown in her face and all the puzzle pieces start to fit. staring at the floor with the straightest face she can muster, she just takes it. she's an asshole and an idiot and assumes everyone is playing the same game she is – a critical mistake, a recurring one that has ruined most all of her relationships and friendships since she was mature enough to be held accountable. she ignored it, she lied to herself but it was right there. the writing on the wall.
her face crumbles and her eyes sting; i’m on fucking speed dial for you. she doesn’t know where to look. chaehwa’s done explaining and somin is silent as she ponders it, does the math.
it's tempting, for her to just say chaehwa is wrong. that somin doesn’t just come to her to feel better about herself. but what has she done for chaehwa besides pay for her meals and fuck with her head? when has she ever come over after chaehwa’s had a hard day and made her feel good? when has she ever even known when chaehwa was having a hard day? her fingernails dig into her palm as the regret seeps into her stomach, slowly and suddenly at the same time; mixing itself seamlessly with the self loathing. normally it turned her on when girls yelled at her. all the frustration and fire she’d walked in with had dissipated like steam somewhere between now and then.
she clears her throat but remains at a loss for words.
her fingers twitch; there’s the urge to reach out, to grab chaehwa’s hand, pull her close and nuzzle into her neck. to wind her arms around her waist and stroke her back. to get wrapped up in the sweetness of her scent, the softness of her skin; it happened so easily. but even now, especially now, it’s so hard for somin to know what the right thing to do is. she can’t help this sickening feeling that’s taken over, like she’s fucked this up beyond repair. and even if she hasn’t, she sure as hell didn’t deserve to be happy whatever this was.
she finally glances up, into chaehwa’s eyes, and she’s scared. her heart feels like it’s stuck in her throat, blocking her from breathing or speaking or calming down. how could chaehwa want her after all this? why did she even open the door? or text her in the first place? why did she stop somin from leaving? it was almost revolting for somin to think of what she would have done if someone treated her the way she treated chaehwa. it would have never gotten this far to begin with, if she’s honest. she realizes she’s never cared how she made other people feel until this moment. it makes her chest ache. you’re a bad person. the words ring through her head like a bell.
restraint fails her finally. she reaches out for chaehwa’s hand, encompasses it with both of her own and brings it close to her chest. she stares as her own thumb rubs up and down, recognizing a habit she didn’t even know she had. “how do i…” she struggles for words, an unfamiliar phenomena to her. “what can i do? how do i make this right?” she’s almost in tears, desperation pouring out of her, through her words and her eyes and her fingers and it hurts. to be so wrong and so weak. “can i even fix this?”
