sideblog to marblewon.

“who’s ... ji-yeong?” her brother asks, with uncharacteristic hesitation.

it is only by virtue of her quick hands that sae-byeok knocks a glass off the counter and clumsily catches it before it can shatter on the floor. her hands shake, even after she sets it down. “how do you know that name?” she questions, harsh. harsher than she’s ever been with cheol. guilt needles uncomfortably in sae-byeok’s chest as she turns away from the sink to look at him, even if she’d rather not see the hurt in his eyes right now.

“you were talking in your sleep last night,” he says, looking down at his plate, not trying to avoid sae-byeok’s gaze but doing a pretty good job of it anyway. “again.”

it’s pathetic. makes sae-byeok feel sopping wet with humiliation to be caught muttering someone’s name in her sleep, some girl’s name like a lovesick teenager. “she’s—” no one. not anymore. but sae-byeok could never say that out loud, those words too heavy to ever rise up her throat. was half an hour of trading secrets enough to make them friends? it felt like they were ... something more. something sae-byeok doesn’t have a word for. but if there is a word for it, then surely ji-yeong would know. 

but because ji-yeong is dead, gone, sae-byeok will have to go through the rest of her life trying to find that word without ever speaking of it.

“you ever kiss anyone? or didn’t they do that up north?” it’s easy to imagine the smirk ji-yeong’s wearing, roguish and teasing, like one of them wasn’t about to have their brains blown out by the end of the hour.

“i never felt that way about the boys my age,” sae-byeok dismisses, quickly, massaging the knuckles of her fingers to give her hands something to do.

she hears ji-yeong snort behind her. “i wasn’t talking about boys,” she says, like it should’ve been obvious.

sae-byeok looks up, confused. even more confused than she was before ji-yeong explained mojitos and tequila sunrises.

ji-yeong’s smile begins to fall before returning, that mischief coming back with a vengeance. as impish as it is, it’s a good smile. a great smile, even. “you’ve never thought about girls that way?”

sae-byeok looks away when she feels the tips of her ears start to burn, face getting hot like they really are sitting under the scorching evening sun. like it was nothing at all, with just a single question, ji-yeong managed to chip away at walls and rubble to reveal this long-ignored truth, one sae-byeok always refused to uncover. 

she has thought. fleeting thoughts sae-byeok turned from, avoiding them in favor of focusing on the things that really mattered: her family, and getting them back together. it would be too selfish to entertain those thoughts, the ones that arose when deok-su’s girls came around wearing too little clothing and showing too much skin, or when the young woman ringing up her takeout order smiled at her too brightly, or even when memories from her youth resurfaced, ones of her closest childhood friend teaching her how to cartwheel, holding hands and smoothing hair as they ran inside from recess. there was too much guilt surrounding those thoughts, unable to pay any mind to them when her love life should be the absolute least of her concerns.

could she admit it now, though? speak aloud these things she refused to acknowledge for so long because it feels like this is the only time she ever can? ji-yeong was right, after all. it doesn’t matter what we tell each other. no one can really be embarrassed anymore. if there ever was a time to talk about it, it would be now.  

her silence is hard, immovable. like it’s an answer of its own.

ji-yeong gives a low whistle from behind her, shuffling in such a way that sae-byeok imagines her leaning forward, chin on palm and wearing that vaguely amused expression she sometimes wears. “you walk around looking like that and really expect people not to know?” she mumbles under her breath, more to herself than anything.

and sae-byeok ... she wanted to know what ji-yeong meant by that, and why she asked in the first place, but time was running out and there were too many other things to talk about, to find out about the other girl, all while the certainty of death hung overhead, trying and failing to drive a wedge between them. it’s a moment sae-byeok returns to more often than she should, thinking about a dead girl and what she wanted from her, why ji-yeong ended up  ... doing what she did.

how had ji-yeong known about—? 

the plate clatters loudly onto the drying rack.

had ji-yeong wanted to—?

a glass this time, colliding with another so roughly sae-byeok should probably check for damage.

if she didn’t, then why would she—?