un bâtard: ni l'un ni l'autre.

sarang’s mother was the task master, the mission maker, and the decider of everyone’s general direction in life. she organised the chores, the academia, and the fun like any good army drill sergeant. though every now and then through the swirl of sickening fears came her voice, gentle and light, willing to hear out sarang’s woes and to see her as she was, a little kid whose worries mattered not because she was under her care, but because she was a human being worthy of the same respect as any other. it didn’t matter that their filiation wasn’t tied in blood.

her father did nothing but work; work at his ambiguous job, work at fixing up the house, and work at getting enough sleep so that he didn’t nod off on the way to church the next day. he was always at church. what he did there, sarang hadn’t any idea about. she could feel that there was never too much of a bond between the two of them, despite never directly being at odds with each other. their relationship at its core was simply distant. but once in a while he would smile or laugh—and when he did, the world brightened for those precious moments—then he would sink back down into his whirl of fretting.

as for the one who birthed sarang, she was gone before the infant could even form words to speak. because if sarang had a chance, this so-called parent would have had her ear talked off in every unkind way. at least, that was how she imagined it would go. perhaps it was in this premature abandonment that she always found herself lacking in some vital ingredient for success even at her early age, while her younger half-sister was the champion, the go-getter, the model child that their mother had so carefully crafted.

sarang loved her still. in fact, for a period of her childhood, all she ever loved was her little sister. so much that it vastly outstripped her meagre capacity for love.

her family was dysfunctional as it was at large.

aged four, sarang had stopped responding to her name. it was as if she decided on her own when she would exist and when she wouldn’t. her parents opted for psychiatry in order to find out the root of this change in behaviour. so for her, they’d try. because she was their child. in spite of everything she lacked and everything she wasn’t good for. they settled with lourdes. her father could never properly say her name anyway, in any context that didn't involve god. it was a wonder why they had kept it all those years. but who names their kid lourdes? if they weren’t madonna, they weren’t cool enough to do so.

in her mind, there was no reason for her to go by lourdes. only her dad liked the name and no one else. her mom respectfully abided by this child’s wishes and crowned her the name chaeyeon, albeit under wraps so that father didn’t find out. it was easy considering how inattentive he was, until it became a habit in the household that he had caught on. it was a name that made her happy. satisfied, for once, that it was something that truly felt like it belonged to her. but such a simple gesture would cause fights between her parents.

she would bear this name for the years to come, enduring the fights that would erupt from one trivial thing to another and the grudge of her name change getting dragged along to pile over every problem. she watched as an innocent bystander, forced into the resolve that she would never be in a marriage like her parents. it went on for longer, until she became resolute in never marrying to begin with.

she specifically went out of her way to request that every kid at elementary would refer to her as rowan. her parents have overcomplicated her name so much. she thought that there was no one else more fit to decide other than herself. once, she got in trouble for printing posters and plastering them all over the walls of the school, to declare that she be called by her preferred name.

incidents of her insistence had cemented itself into the student body and eventually lead to the torment. but she didn’t yield. despite the whispers and even some of the bolder scrutiny that would get physical, she stuck to her word. instead, she would further assert that she wasn’t a girl, that she “just looked like one,” and “that sometimes god makes mistakes,” which is the kind of statement that would never be endorsed in a catholic school. this was when chaeyeon learned firsthand that catholic school was no walk in the park.

sores occupy the body of her tongue. the compulsion to bite parts of her had crept back. the target was her tongue once again. she would run it through her teeth so much that it gets raw. something about wintertime always helped cause every old and new nervous tick. but it's not a thing she can simply stop doing, though she did have a knack for deliberately harming herself even when she wouldn't be wholly aware sometimes.

a new term has come to her knowledge recently: champagne socialist. for those who have never heard it, it's a popular british byname for self-proclaimed socialists whose luxurious lives conflicted their political ideals. ipso facto, chaeyeon embodied this epithet. she may have held this guilt over her existence—it hung heavy on her shoulders—but the realisations regarding her clashing beliefs were interminable and constant. the small-scale undertakings she would carry out to remedy her anxiety about such thoughts were realistic but weren't enough. it didn't help that she believed it never will be until she ceases to exist completely. perhaps she just didn't know it yet but luckily for the people in her life, she had managed to draw in and surround herself with reasons to stay.

chaeyeon tossed the sheets over to jump out of bed. with heavy steps and eyes still half closed, she kicked the bathroom door open hoping to relieve herself and inspect what foul curses have made its home within her mouth. in her languid effort to stand, she ended up knocking over the cup that she had been using for oral rinsing. the crashing and tinkling of it against the tiles was enough to jolt her awake, yet her mind continued to subsist within the realm of which dreams would materialise, not bothered that the lights remained off.

she stood in front of the mirror, slouched toward the softly pissing sink, next to pieces of the splintered cup. she kissed her teeth at the dull sight of it then at the sight of herself; the vague shape of her in the dimmed bathroom. the door slightly ajar was the only source of light so when she stepped to reach for the switch, her heel suffered the consequences of moving in the dark. "fuck—" she said under her breath. the shattered porcelain had done the deed, she conveniently argued.

careful of stepping on more shards, she hopped on one leg only to lose her footing and fall over, rear first to the tub. a sigh of defeat left her mouth as she keeled over to cleanse the crimson that had rapidly started to ooze out of her skin. it slithered to nuzzle the drain, that whirlpool of blood and water. she watched, unblinking, and serial killer calm about the amount of blood she had lost over just a little prick.

she needs to replace that cup, she thought. she needs more scented candles and incense, more pots and chinaware. she needs to fill this house to capacity. the hoarding was almost compulsive. if it wasn't for the housekeeper that occasionally came, her living space would have become cramped with only narrow pathways winding through stacks of clutter.

but what really required her utmost attention was the fact that she needed to get back to sumin for that pajama shopping. they had a lot of plans that never panned out, but one that stuck out was her mentioning something about finding nice pots in gyeongbuk. why it had to be that far out, chaeyeon couldn't even begin to imagine. as someone who had been carping of sumin's full schedule, chaeyeon hadn't the luxury to make specific requests. she simply complied. besides, she was a big fan of pottery.

perhaps she needed the break. she had been yearning for one—a little trip to separate herself from responsibilities—since the holidays and its blues had loomed over her head like a rain cloud.

for the very moment at least, she needed to patch up her new wound. chaeyeon could hear wolfgang's faint chattering from outside. realising he had just come back from whatever hunt he was pursuing the night before, she's just hoping he didn't also arrive with wounds of his own. her brain wasn't cooperating enough as it is. she was already on autopilot.

with whatever strength she had left from the fast moving morning, she pushed her weight off where she was awkwardly reclined. she successfully turned on the lights this time. the placing of the mirror made it inevitable for her to see her reflection once again, clearer and more awake this time. she looked terrible, like she hadn't been doing well in a long while. to an extent, it was true. she even missed her own birthday, only reminded by the faculty at hope's peak and a message from a distant friend.

yeoreum would whimper around her as if this little fluffball of a canine was sympathetic of the state chaeyeon was in. it didn't occur to her what the root of this was but it was evident that even despite the highs she would experience, nothing could take away the inexplicable sadness. the mind that was perennially striving to kill her was nowhere near stopping. now it seemed that even her house was in connivance with that brain of hers.

sucks to suck.

she shouldn't have looked at her foot, but her eyes did the thing again; that weird leering, when her lids would roll all the way up as if being held by magnet, and her pupils would be dilated as if she had taken opiates. wolfgang took a break from absorbing the sunlight-heat casting past the blinds, onto the wall he had adorned, to wove himself through chaeyeon's lap. he paws at her foot, beckoning.

"you want a close up, bud? it's just a scratch," the feline approached cautiously. what happened next melted chaeyeon into a puddle. she winced first then carefully stayed still, but it melted her nevertheless. the cat had started licking her tiny injury like she was his altricial little kitten, completely dependent on him for her survival. it reminded her exactly why she kept these animal companions. the simple joys that brought on a transient warmth. though fleeting and impermanent, it was sufficient enough of a nudge to ease the dull pain. figuratively and metaphorically.

the wound had been dressed, the cat had been petted, and chaeyeon had settled back into bed with her legs elevated. she stretched her arm, reaching for the bedside desk where her phone laid on the edge to finally respond to messages. she started packing in between text messages where they engaged in playful banter and made jests about exhibitionism in the train, which was the preferred mode of transport of the pseudo-educator who had been battling with her freshly resurfaced guilty conscience about her privileged lifestyle.

"the outer circle train for (hapjeong) is approaching." "the gap between the train and the platform is wide at this station, please be careful when getting on and off the train."

"this station is (hapjeong), (holt children's services inc.) station. the doors are on the right." "passengers going in the direction of (eungam) or (bonghwasan) should transfer to line (6) at this station."

it was during the train ride that she had figured out why gyeongbuk. it was sumin's hometown. she blew a raspberry at thought of even forgetting such an elementary fact about her paramour. you know, the woman she has had a push and pull situationship with for how many years now?

the train doors opened and chaeyeon immediately spots sumin waiting on the bench, busied with her phone. extreme as it seemed—and she haaaated to admit it—but what she felt was a quiet emotion that in time became part of the oxygen she needed to breathe. it was why any form of removal or separation would happen and the emotions begin to choke. this was chaeyeon's heart-song, in promise and bodily presence. this was stardust so compacted in the universe, it birthed its own gravity and radiant light.

chaeyeon thought, 'if she could surprise me by her simply being there, i should return the favor.' with a peck on the cheek. it served its purpose perfectly. but the abrupt link was so casual, almost as if they had been at this for as long as she could remember. perhaps there was some truth to that, only this time the sourness of past memories had mingled seamlessly with the sweet of now.

"this train is bound for (jangam), (jangam). thank you." "the train is equipped with seating for passengers who are elderly, disabled, pregnant, accompanying children, or otherwise vulnerable. we ask that you show consideration by yielding seats especially to women in early pregnancy who may not yet be showing. thank you."

there was nothing really different. they walked hand in hand to their transfer platform on cue. in the train, their laughter would bubble every now and then and interrupt other people's peaceful daily commute. maybe sumin would be conscious of it, as the more socially adept of the two, but if anyone had any kind of objection, chaeyeon wouldn't care. for the moment, her worries had evaporated. her soul had stopped the search and no longer sought a path. instead it sat on soft grass upon a gentle hill, like it was the simplest and most natural thing to happen.

the pair gets off at the express bus terminal station where sumin's car was parked. they loaded the trunk with their backpacks. sumin took the wheel while chaeyeon rode shotgun. before they're even completely settled, they indulge each other in their physical fantasies, self-preservation be damned as the concept of personal space had been thrown out the window. the rest of the drive consisted of more playful banter sprinkled with coquetry, music and singing.

they arrive at their first destination; the clothing store, where chaeyeon was immediately sifting through the pajama section, lest her partner decides to take up their day just picking between two sets and finding something else to buy entirely.

chaeyeon found the stars, ones that weren't as bright as the lover that had brought her along, but that suited the brilliance of her. she saw it from all the way where she stood at the boundary of the racks. she stood right in front of it, whistling unsuspectingly. spotting sumin with an empty hand and an audible sigh intruded upon chaeyeon's treble. she laughed at the endearing sight.

"you need help, miss?" she teased, then pulled out the hanger that bore the pajama set she thought matched sumin's lustrous aura. "i don't have a cool sales pitch but this looks like it'll be a good fit."

the enthusiasm in sumin's reaction was refreshing as she was a little harder to impress, or at least she thought. she had been trying more than she would have with others. it could have been her own resistance or simply her yielding to her own harsh self critique but considering their history and all the trauma that came with it, winning her over felt nearly impossible. all despite their undeniable closeness.

next on the list of activities was the wearying task that involved what had caused her accident in the bathroom just that same morning. within the home goods store, presented were earth-kind objects with a story. the items were clearly upcycled, relying not on virgin materials, but made by breathing new life into deadstock, vintage, and antique. perhaps it was an image, this impression that their artisans tread lightly on the planet—from production to impact, once they are no longer in use. she had never been in this specific store. it was more of a feeling, a reaction to the ambience. chaeyeon could sense the sentience entailed.

chaeyeon didn't fuss too much. she knew she wanted as many things as she could purchase but she walked through the isles as if she had come for one thing and one thing only. she passed across the rug selection, the wood-based furniture, and flatware, reaching the dinnerware with racks filled with ceramics. she found a handmade cup of black terracotta clay with a glossy white glaze that called itself a 'simple teacup'. it was reminiscent of france in the long nineteenth century, after the devastating regime of napoleon along with the back and forth between empire and republic, thus the aftermath that made la belle époque, when it appeared to be a time of joie de vivre. she picked it without hesitation.

she stopped in her tracks as she spotted a curious little incense holder detailed with a cat's body. beside it was a box of incense marked with 'encens' on the front. on the back, it read: a strange trunk of agarwood ran aground on a beach on the island of awaji. the villagers picked up the branch and burned part of it to warm themselves and a wonderful smell arose, a scent so intoxicating that they decided to offer it as tribute to the empress and prince shotoku. from then on, the fate of awaji was decided and the island would be entirely dedicated to the production of incense; a sanctuary of scents that brought places home. chaeyeon was a sucker for old legends told around the campfire or a roaring hearth. it was another instant purchase.

once the items had been paid for, chaeyeon took out her camera, eager to capture every enchanting display that came to view through the lens. except for one—the exact opposite of charm—a grumbling idiot that greeted her with a huff. the elder stranger gave her an earful about taking images, how it was disrespectful despite there being no signs that said so. the assassin simply looked at them, deadpan and inscrutable.

"this is why kids shouldn't be allowed in here," the stranger stated.

"right. i do wonder why they let you in here," she responded with a blank expression. it was more than enough to send them over the edge, resulting in an outpour of anger thereafter.

chaeyeon laughed subtly at their face, provoking even further, while still keeping her composure. she was an expert in such conflicts. with strangers, that is. she had a short fuse. if had been between her and sumin, she would have been what this elderly was to her; the epitome of animosity.

sumin along with an attendant discerned what had started to transpire but chaeyeon simply shrugged. "it's fine. we can leave." she said, gripping at the bags she held. "good luck with the rest of your shift, sincerely," she continued, addressing the attendant that came to intervene.

"what a fucking menace. i hate old people," she muttered as she pulled out a pack of cigarettes already half emptied, but realising she was with company, that of someone who she wanted to see only the good parts of her, she decided against smoking. still, cat's out the bag. a vice that she had broken free from has returned just like all the rest of her unhealthy habits. in retrospect, asking sumin for a more formal confirmation of their relationship was her way of salvage. hapless as it is, chaeyeon was still unaware of the fact. or perhaps she was. but her forte was denial. self-reflection? chaeyeon doesn't know her.

she took out the incense holder from its package, raising it up for a good look under sunlight. "look at this. cute, right?" she said, dismissing everything that had happened just a few moments ago. she then stored it back, gesturing for sumin to come back to the car. and maybe she was regretting this short trip thus far, apparent from her reluctance to simply act in accordance to chaeyeon's biddings. chaeyeon had ways to turn things around, however. it was one of the only pluses.

their final stop for the eventful day was a pottery and ceramics store. chaeyeon was under the impression that they would come to purchase already made goods but it seemed her partner had other plans. where pottery was involved, chaeyeon knew many places for classes in seoul. since she wasn't familiar with activities within the vicinity, sumin naturally took the lead and was able to organise one for them, a private one at that.

despite chaeyeon's skill in the art, they were given ample instructions for the sake of formality and most likely courtesy for the paid services included in the package. there was no reason for her to be irked as it was customary, but she was intending on showing sumin everything. the couple may have outgrown plenty of bad habits and unhealthy mindsets but one that hasn't left chaeyeon alone was her proprietorial nature.

she didn't like the way the instructor touched sumin's hand to assist her with wedging the clay. she didn't like how their shoulders would brush against each other accidentally and how they would laugh together at the fact. all the little harmless interactions irritated her. so when the instructor leaves, chaeyeon's beaming with a smile as if to say 'thank fuck. we don't need you here anymore. we never did.'

relieved by the privacy at present, she immediately dragged her chair to sit behind sumin with much gusto. her face was embellished with a giddy smile that reached ear to ear. sumin gave her a knowing look, or rather she squinted in such a way that she was communicating how she noticed the beady-eyed gaze chaeyeon had when they had company. "what?" she uttered suddenly, her smile fading for a second before she was back to giggling like a school girl to herself.

fingers glide down sumin's arms, chaeyeon's body following suit and scooting closer. her nerves become electrified at the contact. it was the anticipation of being near in a way that could be expressed beyond words, in a way that was so completely tangible. in the same manner as the earthenware clay, their hands molded against the wheel. bringing up walls together and making sure they didn't collapse while breaking down their personal walls felt intimately poetic. they did a few times but chaeyeon reassured sumin that it was part of the learning process. on the same note, she was trying to infer what she had gone through with opening back up to her old flame, how much back and forth she had with herself in doing so.

her hands relaxed atop sumin's once she had found the rhythm, chin rested on the cushion of her shoulder where chaeyeon could respire her partner's aroma. she stayed in quietude, intentional with her caresses. sumin paused to look behind, meeting chaeyeon's gaze. she stared at her wordlessly. with each turn of the wheel, they drew closer to each other until they were just a breath away. for one long second, they remained motionless until a knock on the wood dissolved the atmosphere. chaeyeon sat up in a daze. she shook her head and cleared her throat before pulling her chair away and back to where it used to be in defiance of her thundering chest. a few more moments passed in silence, stealing glances here and there, and they wrap up the session.

after a long day, they have decided to rent a hanok to stay in overnight as neither of them were awake enough to drive. they found a quaint spot near clusters of neighborhood boutiques and teeny-tiny cafés. there, they were greeted by rustic beams and large picture windows the moment they entered the establishment. a warm and friendly staff led them along the bamboo-trimmed zen garden and all the way to the sleeping quarters. inside the room, intricately made hanji covered the walls and doors.

her bandaged foot from hours ago sustained relief the moment she stepped on the cosy ondol heated floor. chaeyeon didn't waste any time scuttering to her side of the bed and drowning herself with the comfortable quilt once they have set up the plush futons beds. "we should eat." she suggested, sitting still under the covers. they haven't eaten in a good six to seven hours by now, apart from snacks they've bought along the way, here and there. but that wasn't the kind of sustenance chaeyeon was looking forward to. she couldn't care less what happens to this mortal body of hers.

"if you know what i mean," she continued after a long and tense pause.

her sexual appetite was a different story. oxytocin was her only honest addiction. she couldn't ever lie about the fact that one of her favourite things about sumin was her readiness to give rein to the same desires, whenever the chance arose.

lit was the incense within the holder that she had just purchased. its legend served as an allegory to their passion unveiled. it sent chaeyeon into a heady trance, one that wouldn't end until their bodies were still once more, just warm and nestled in as close as two souls can be. intimacy stretched gracefully into their dreams and wishes, filling the room that was twilight and shadow.

sumin's hand alit on her lover's face then moved past her collar bone. chaeyeon's paramour was her angel; her angel with fingertips of flame. in these moments, she loved with her eyes. every pretence had fallen, the facades they showed the world melting away.

with each kiss, there was raw intensity, fast breaths, entwined tongues, and thundering hearts. her angel's fingers revved her like divine fire. it sent her off to tensing. then, like being handed the holy grail, painted toes dig the futon upon chaeyeon's release. barely convalescing after her shivers, she plunged into returning the favor, trembling with want and acting upon it until they were both nothing but currents of pleasure, breathing in and gushing out like the ocean.

the rest of the night was spent in quiet moments, scribbling and sketching out their big thoughts until their brains tire out and fade into black. the day after was certainly better than yesterday's morning. beside chaeyeon was the first in her heart. the only person she really, really cared about.

it was a sweet moment until a text interrupted her reverie. the sender was a friend of both of them, as far as she knew. it read:

"are you a white or red wine kinda person?"

"red. you?"

"red, always."

"correct answer." "why the random question? are you looking for people to drink with?"

"i'm always looking for people to drink with. if you're ever lonely, (please) hit me up."

"because you said please, i will."

a prequel to this.

what was a vacation to the infamous rowan? it was the same as the mundane daily and less about the sightseeing. it was not so much about taking in everything she was seeing for the first time in the flesh and more thinking about how much of this she could retain for the assignments she was to inevitably execute.

it was also scrolling through social media checking on celebrity devotees defending their icons by sharing their i-too's only to find themselves dying on hills not worth. it was clamoring for nourishment, as if it was possible to fill her appetite plagued with the chronic service of psychological gratification. it was going online, checking on auctioned vases from museums for charity; to quench her overwhelming desire to hoard ornaments, filling her chosen home with beauty her life could never truly possess and to sate her itch to 'save' those in need, because she had dedicated much of her life to taking—in a way, it was like indirectly pledging a monthly financial aid to her victims like a divorcee responsible for child support, even though they probably deserved their demise.

every single one of them were ordered to be killed for a heinous reason. one way or another, the reason would have to do with failures in political alliances. it was usually some prominent personality uncovering a conspiracy that ran deeper than south korea's criminal underworld or just a big boss with an abundance of wealth and a military, or sometimes even personal motive wanting their grievance avenged. chaeyeon cared, or rather used to care. she used to think she was some anti-hero, vigilante destined to discover the truth about injustices that had controlled her life for far too long. from the path that she played down to fictional stories, the only ideation that came true were the uneasy pacts, some of which led her to become embroiled into relationships that forced her to confront the life she leads.

in the twinkling of an eye, chaeyeon had become immobilised by an intense wave of fear. her body had decided to ambush her with a surge of panic on the first day in amalfi coast. if there was anything that made rowan really cry, it was the loss of control, the physical feeling of detaching from herself and the sense of irreality that came after. at that exact moment, she was insubstantial. she was imaginary. she was not existing objectively. not in fact. she was a fog of unknowns. a non-entity, a falsity. she was a lumpy, dark cloud bringing continuous precipitation for eternity. she was neither chaeyeon nor rowan. all of this came about around the company of piper, possibly the person she least wanted to see her in such a state. apart from tears and over worn eyes that quickly turned red, it manifested in quivering lips and an anxious jaw clicking. this was as mild as it could be, as the walls to her home had seen much worse. she was curled in a ball, back against the headboard of the hotel's queen bed next to the only person able to talk her out of it.

the stressor would be an unexpected assignment. rowan's surveillance coverage on its own was not to be trifled with, but the holy salvation society's was something else entirely. finding rowan was as easy as gliding a finger across a model of the planet. clearly, it was not information she could divulge to the friend, no matter how close they had become. frankly, there were already too many liabilities for her taste. any more and she would need to start killing them gradually, preemptively, only letting the quietest ones survive, which would make piper first in queue to the corpse gathering.

alas, piper was a little more special than that. just a month ago, they were intimate. a month ago, chaeyeon was yielding to the habitual daydreaming of a stable life where she owns a greenhouse and resides in a provincial home with wolfgang, yeoreum, and her wife piper, only worrying about household management. the following month might have been committed to spending her days bricking off the door to her house and tin foiling her windows, blocking all potential connection to the outside world, but they had made amends. fairly easily at that, since chaeyeon was fragile and vulnerable to declarations of people she cared for expressing qualms about losing her in their lives.

the day after was no better. in hindsight, the commission assigned to her was not completely unexpected. prior to the phone call, rowan had been following a mafioso who had paid a handsome fee for protection. only today, it was possible to get the ball rolling because of a wedding at the coast. she thought their complacency to be foolish, but the weight of her steps reaching to roof of the building didn't quite relent. it was more noticeable, even. as to why, she had no idea. there was nothing out of the ordinary other than the fact that it was in a land completely foreign to her, but that had never been a hindrance to her procedures. rowan was a master at the art of sucking it up, and she was familiar of the patterns that infrastructures took. the coastal strip in turn was familiar with red trails of blood and rubble.

she proceeded as usual, starting with the initial assembly and the inspection of joint condition. once everything was set and it was rested on the bipod, fine crosshairs hardscoped over the target in motion. all the kinks were worked out: the optical zoom, the focal length of the scope, and the right amount of grip to control the recoil of the rifle. with the windage accounted for and the bullet drop dialed in, she paused and listened to the beat of her heart, blocking out any and all other noises and visual disturbances. she fired on the very moment between the beats—when the body has the least amount of movement, and therefore giving her the greatest accuracy. she gloated over the sight of the crowd's reaction for a moment, the panic and distress, and instantly realises this malignant pleasure she relished on. the push and pull of her morals began while the mission 'ends' with a high caliber bullet right on target's head; an end product to the extensive training in the covert arts, a so-called success or happy ending. she couldn't say the same for the trajectory of the events to follow.

there's only so much she can be in control of. after packing up her trade tools, she turned to find piper frozen in her place at the door of the rooftop. how she could have let a huge oversight happen, leaving it unlocked, was beyond her. there was something off after all. she couldn't have been there long, rowan reasoned to herself, but the expression of shock said otherwise. she hastily blurted out "what are you—" but before she could finish the sentence, piper stormed off. rowan made little effort to chase. she stopped at the door, one hand gripping at the frame and the other in a fist landing a punch on the metal door. it would have hurt like hell any other time, but her brain was far too focused in on the fact that piper witnessed not only a mental breakdown the night before but also her killing another human being. the turmoil settled in quickly, rendering her numb and weak simultaneously, as if the bones in her body had crumbled to dust, leaving only a shell of her unfeeling body. she gave herself the small kindness of rest. sat on the staircase then, she discovered a wallet. upon inspection, she found that it belonged to piper.

a sigh left her lips. the remainder of the day would be dedicated to the search of piper, who had ran off to hide from rowan presumably out of the reasonable fear of being a victim to the violence that she could enact as a retaliation to her secret being found out. but locating piper was one thing and it wasn't a complicated task at all. the hard part was finding the answers to the questions waiting for her. she had none. how do you explain killing for a living anyway?

(you can't.)

there was no running from her shadow. europe was no exception. this dark figure cast upon her will always chase her down to the ends of the world. until then, all she could do was wait until the light comes.

she didn't arrive late or early, just perfectly on time. she swore to herself she would give herself a break from following such time constraints, even for things relating to leisure but old habits die hard. upon seeing her paramour, chaeyeon could hear her heartbeat pounding all the way to her earlobes. when she had asked the friend to 'dress like a whore', it was partly in jest but she was amused that the lady had abided regardless. she whistled obnoxiously, disturbing the peace that the store held before her arrival, as she approached the friend who was idly still looking at the plates. "can't tell if she's obedient or trying to impress."

"can't it be both? a good little whore always aims to please."

chaeyeon was taken aback by the forwardness, in a good way, granted there seemed to be no one around. she couldn't contest or come up with her own witticism. instead she confused desire for instinct, hand unconsciously resting on the small of her back. she stared at her, not her body, or anywhere else inappropriate. just her. a recurrent memory from a time of mischief flashed, how free and thoughtless everything seemed to be. but so much of their history had been tainted, so much of it muddled all together, that fond moments would get overshadowed by vile recollections. the clerk coming back out from the stockroom snapped her out of the reverie. she cleared her throat, realising too that she had been acting a bit unnatural the more time they would spend. it was as if she would get carried away and then something will remind her to take a step back. several steps back, as a precautionary measure. it was like a sticky note stuck on the wall when it had just been freshly painted and it stayed on for years to come, so when it came time to remove it the adhesive left the paintwork blistered. "damn..." was all she could really say back, but she gave her a reassuring smile to relay that what she said was acknowledged despite her going deep in thought.

"cat got your tongue?"

"yeah, well, you know who i'm a slave to." chaeyeon said in jest to mask the effect of weariness to whether she was catching on to the unusual behavior. she left it at that, however, on making awkward jokes about her relationship with her cat which may or may not be an allegory to other relationships in her life. then quickly, she tried to brush it off by bringing the friend's attention to one on display. "what about this one?" she felt pretentious picking the most embellished plate out of the options. it was all the yellow in it. reminded her of sumin. "looks kinda nice."

"hmm… won't it be too much? i might attract bumblebees with that."

"will you be using this plate to eat outdoors? won't it be just for home decor?" she expected this response. between the two of them, sumin always was the more sensible while all of her decisions were rooted in her invariability, no matter how hard she tried to be 'cool'. chaeyeon would notice the efforts being made to ease her into this place, or perhaps the situation entirely. a kewpie doll was held up next to her face, claiming it was a look alike of hers only chaeyeon was the less bubblier of the two. if it could talk, it would probably chime into the teasing like a form of tennis showing that chaeyeon didn't mind this sort of friendship maintenance and that she had welcomed it, in fact, because sumin had won her love many times over. "it looks weird. what are you trying to say? constipated sister?! now you're just babbling on." she scoffed of disbelief, but it was all lighthearted. her hands shook dismissively but once it was back on the shelf and sumin's attention is away from it, she was secretly snapping photos to share on her social media. "big boy..." she said lowly and snorted after.

"listen, you should make up your mind on something before i start falling asleep right here and now. can't believe you even got here early and you haven't decided yet." she said as she aimlessly walked around, eyes darting across the displays adorning the room as subtle strings upon which travel the finest emotions of past times. she wondered between them, taking in the curves of each. something about the place felt like a tiny time machine, so much of it echoing their souls. she wasn't sure if she liked that, or if it was giving her too much ponderous feelings to contemplate. it didn't help that it was so quiet and if there was music, the beating of her tense heart was much too loud for her to hear. the atmosphere was way too cheery for her to be feeling this way, and she's hoping if there's ever a next time to come back around she won't feel as heavy. it was sumin's happy place, after all. she was conflicted about the thought of being special enough to be invited and the thought that there was so much in her head that she couldn't truly enjoy herself. she stayed quiet, cautious of making sumin notice her sense of urgency to leave. she even took more pictures to crown the act.

when sumin settled on a piece, chaeyeon would find herself mentally thinking "finally" but upon the friend showing it off to her, she found it endearing enough that she felt the parasitic clasp on her heart letting go and the muscle itself switching on like a lever. like something was lifted, not because of the relief of leaving the place that brought grief, but because there was trust in the gesture. sumin showing off something to her that she may not necessarily be interested in, but still with the certainty that chaeyeon wouldn't make objections and that she would share this small piece of joy as if it was a big feat with both of them being the victor.