RCP

Jisu looks at her with the same face that — a moment ago — was laughing and smiling and stuffing itself with food from their second-favorite tofu house. The smile is still there, but there are wrinkles at the corner weighing it down. And Yuna can still hear the laughter, but now all she can hear is how empty it really sounds.

“Would you miss me…”

Jisu hesitates and flicks her eyes away, but Yuna’s able to catch it regardless. In that last moment where her eyes lingered, Yuna saw the light and mirth usually in them disappear inside her like a fish diving down from the surface of a pond. Now, Jisu’s looking down at the bowl of food in front of her and all Yuna can see is steam and empty eyes.

“Would you miss me if I was gone?”

Jisu turns back to look at her and Yuna’s mouth goes dry. She’s thankful that Jisu is gracious enough to not leave her alone with the question, but now she’s too busy searching Jisu’s face for why she even asked it. She’s going over the seconds before this minute, the hours before that, and eventually the entirety of their lives together before she finally comes up empty-handed.

She still hasn’t moved, even though she wants to. Yuna wants to be blunt and ask outright “Why are you saying this?” She wants to look around and see if she can spot one of their producers with a hidden camera. She wants to grab Jisus’ hand and ask her for the code word they established between each other in case either of them were being held hostage or mind-controlled.

But she’s afraid that all of those things that she can do would only let Jisu down, so she answers first.

“Of course, I would miss you.” She starts it out sincere and genuine before chasing it down with some levity in case she misread the situation. “I miss you even when you take too long in the bathroom.”

Jisu nods and laughs. She reacts like how she always does when the two joke around with each other, but the weight in Yuna’s chest doesn’t disappear.

“Don’t be gross, we’re eating!” Jisu waves her hand at Yuna before picking up the pair of chopsticks she had put down earlier. “Now, hurry up. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can get dessert.”

Jisu looks at her with another smile and Yuna has no option but to smile back.

“Sounds like a plan!”

Reaching for her own chopsticks, Yuna returns to the food in front of them. She doesn’t feel so hungry anymore, so she just moves things around in her bowl until they finish.

It was raining when they first came in, but now it’s not so heavy.

---------

“I think Yeji was right, we do have a separate stomach for sweets.”

Jisu’s bright and bubbly as she takes another bite of the taiyaki in her hand. The red bean oozes out of the pastry like blood and it makes Yuna shirk away from the sight to her own dessert.

It’s not a real fish, but the eyes looking back up at her remind her of all the fish markets she’s to in her life. Ice and fish and big yellow gloves and round, black orbs with no life inside them. The thought scrunches her lips together before she finally brings it up to her mouth to take a bite. For a second, she expects bones and flesh and scales, but all she gets is hot dough and even hotter custard.

“Good, right?”

Jisu’s looking back at her as she licks the red bean off of her own fingers before wiping them off with a napkin.

“Yeah,” Yuna breathes out, attempting to sooth the molten lava cooling on her tongue. “So good.”

She’s old enough to stop burning her tongue on desserts, but the laugh that comes from Jisu tells her that it’s something she should do every time.

“C’mon,” Jisu says as she links their arms together. “Enough goofing around from you.”

As the two start to make their way back to the apartment, Yuna’s mind is still lingering on what happened in the restaurant — that question that came out of nowhere and disappeared just as sudden. She wonders if all those times Jisu had hung out with Chaeryeong had gotten to her, if those little call-of-the-void curiosities that plagued their friend had crawled into Jisu’s head.

It’s the simplest answer. It’s the easiest answer. But what if it isn’t the right answer?

The thought continues to mull over in Yuna’s head as her and Jisu drift towards the riverbank. It’s less crowded than usual, most people having cleared out after the rain earlier. But that just makes it all the more precious as the two settle alongside the water and take in the smell of petrichor wafting up to meet them while the moon reflects fully on the surface.

“It’s pretty tonight,” Jisu says as she does every night.

But like every night, Jisu is right. Though it’s stopped raining, the clouds haven’t stopped leaking. Yuna can still the occasional drops of water land in the river and send out little echoes of their existence. What is it like to be a river? To spill out into an ocean bigger than you can imagine? To have the rain come in and replace you drop by drop until there’s nothing left of the original you?

Yuna shudders at the thought — to have the same name, but everything else be different. And then she looks at Jisu. At Lia. At the girl, the woman, the person, the friend, the bandmate, the everything she’s been in her life since the moment they’ve met.

She wonders how often it rains and how much of Jisu gets washed out every time.

“Yuna? Is something wrong?”

All of a sudden, Jisu’s staring at her and Yuna realizes it’s only because she was staring first.

“Nothing,” Yuna answers instinctively, only to curse herself and dive back into what’s been bothering her. “But I was wondering…what did you mean earlier in the restaurant?”

The expression on Jisu’s face doesn’t change. The lights in her eyes don’t even flicker, but then Yuna looks closer and realizes they’ve been off since the restaurant. This whole time, she’s been staring at the halogen glow and castoff from the moon above them. There are no lights on in Jisu’s eyes, just a reflection.

“I was curious.” Jisu shrugs. “That’s it.”

Yuna doesn’t like the answer, still hates the question, but loves the person too much to fully let it go.

“Are you going somewhere?”

In an attempt to sound hopeful, all Yuna does is come off childish — like a kid asking about their pet hamster before being told it was sent to a farm upstate.

“Maybe. I’m not sure yet.” The smile falls off of Jisu’s face as she looks down at the water in front of them. The river’s flooded and Yuna’s now only realizing they’re standing in the water as opposed to just beside it. “I feel like I need a break.”

“Is it because of me?” Yuna’s eyes widen as she turns to her. It’s selfish and self-centered, but a yes to this would be the best thing she could hope for. If she’s the problem, then that means she can solve it. “Did I do something?”

Jisu smiles again, but this one feels real. “It’s not you, Yuna.” She reaches up and transfers the comfort of her gaze into her hand as she cups Yuna’s cheek. It’s still warm from the taiyaki. “You haven’t done anything wrong…to be honest, you’re kind of perfect.”

Yuna swallows the tiny bit of relief she allows herself before she reaches up to slide her hand atop of Jisu’s. The sweet honey of Jisu’s voice calling her perfect is almost enough to make her forget what they were talking about. Almost.

“If it’s not me, then—“

Yuna stops.

Jisu tilts her head in confusion.

And then the two look up.

It starts to rain again.

---------

They’re soaked by the time they rush in through the door of their apartment. Ryujin and Chaeryeong have already retired to their room, while Yeji’s pacing in the kitchen talking to their manager over the phone. They’re supposed to have a fan meeting tomorrow, but if it keeps raining like this, they’ll have to cancel. The news is unfortunate, but Yuna can’t help but feel like Jisu seems relieved at the mention of it.

Yuna’s about to say something when a sneeze shoots out of her. That immediately leads to Yeji ushering her into the bathroom so she can get out of her wet clothes and shower. It’s understandable, but it does mean she and Jisu have to skip their nightly ritual of bumping elbows and knocking heads while trying to brush their teeth next to each other.

Once Yuna finishes, she goes to their bedroom and takes a seat along the bottom bunk of their beds while she waits for Jisu. In the mean time, she thinks. She still doesn’t know what had happened — what she missed — between the eye smiles and excited clips that had left Jisu feeling like this.

There have been good days and bad days, but not a single day has gone by that they haven’t all been there for one another. On days that Yuna is busy elsewhere, she still checks in with Jisu and doubly checks in on the others to make sure they also check in with her. And despite it all, despite how dead they are when they leave the studio or how sleep-deprived when they enter it, she can’t remember a time when Jisu wasn’t there smiling and brightening up the room.

The creak of the door pulls her attention away from her thoughts. Jisu enters looking so soft and dainty it makes Yuna want to cry knowing what’s going on through her head at the moment.

“Jisu.”

Yuna straightens her back, folds her hands in her lap, and looks at her.

“Yeah?”

But when she opens her mouth, cowardice overtakes her.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Jisu stands there, blinking, before she laughs and unwraps the towel from her head.

“Of course.”

Jisu’s still laughing as she finishes up her nightly routine. In the same way they spend their days together, the two usually end their nights together in a similar fashion. It started early in their time together — Yuna crawling down to Jisu’s bunk so they could talk and watch videos — until it eventually became an every night thing. Now, she can’t imagine sleeping without Jisu in her arms and waking up without the image of her drooling on her pillow.

When the lights go out, Yuna scoots over to make room for Jisu. She watches her move in the dark — a clumsy silhouette lit up by the night lights they’ve stuck in the corners.

The bed lurches beneath Yuna as Jisu crawls onto the mattress. She starts to move to take her own place on the sheets when Jisu wraps her arms around her from behind and pulls her down on top of her.

“Jisu!”

Despite the scream, Jisu’s laughing as the two flop onto the sheets beneath them.

“Get out of your head and into my bed already!”

It’s easy to forget in the dark. The feeling of Jisu’s arms around her — being cradled by her laughter — that’s all it takes for Yuna to start laughing too as they flounder about. But then Chaeryeong pounds on the wall beside them to quiet down and they do…eventually. The chaos peters out and it isn’t long until Jisu’s on her back and Yuna’s attached herself to her side.

Soon, the only thing they can hear is the rain still going on outside. It’s funny. It was supposed to be clear skies and no clouds all day — that was one of the reasons they were even out to begin with. Yuna wonders if it hadn’t started raining and they had decided to wait it out at a restaurant, would Jisu have said anything.

She doesn’t know if that would’ve been better or worse.

“Yuna?”

The name comes with an awkward lilt and anxious gasp. It prompts Yuna to lift her head up to see what’s going on, only to find Jisu with her cheeks flushed and the sudden realization that the soft velvet beneath her fingertips isn’t Jisu’s pajamas, but the skin beneath it.

“S-sorry!” Yuna jerks upright as she pulls her hand away and colors her cheeks to match Jisu’s. “I didn’t realize — sorry…”

Out of the corner of Yuna’s eye, Jisu rises to sit up behind her.

“It’s okay.” Jisu leans forward to rest her hand on Yuna’s shoulder, her arms going around her waist as she sits up to dig her knees into the mattress. “It happens.”

Yuna’s blush doesn’t recede. It does happen — a lot — and it’s something that she’s learned simply comes with existing next to someone for so long and for so often. But there are times like this when she can feel Jisu’s breath on her neck and her chest against her back that she wishes these moments were more than just incidental.

“What did I say about getting out of your head?”

“Sorry,” Yuna sighs. She wonders if Jisu would take it easy on her if she knew that she wasn’t thinking about the question earlier and was focusing on something completely different. “There’s a lot on my mind.”

Jisu nods — as best as she can with her chin on Yuna’s shoulders — before she finds Yuna’s hands and entangles them with her own. She doesn’t know how, but all of a sudden, Jisu feels a lot heavier on top of her.

“Is it about earlier? That thing I asked you?”

“No.” Again, another reflexive answer from Yuna — a habit she needs now more than ever to break. “Or yes? I mean, I don’t know.”

And she doesn’t. Because whether or not it’s about the feeling of Jisu pressed against or the thought of her being one, it’s all her either way.

“I’m sorry too,” Jisu whispers. She takes a deep breath and she sinks herself even further into Yuna. “With everything tonight, I…I really wish I could tell you why.”

“You don’t have to wish. You could just tell me.” She takes in a breath, patient and metered, before letting it out. “I promise, I won’t tell anyone else. And whatever you need me to do, I can do it, so—“

“I don’t need you to do anything.” Jisu tightens her hold around her as if trying to press that bit of truth all the way into her. “You already do everything for me, okay? I just…I need a break is all.”

“But why?”

Yuna doesn’t realize she’s choking back tears until the words come out of her mouth. She still doesn’t get it and Jisu isn’t telling her. The days are long, but they’ve always been long. Practice is tough, but it’s always been tough. They were able to handle it in the beginning, so why now? Why Jisu?

“Why do you have to leave?”

“I…” Jisu opens her mouth and a cross between a croak and a cry slides out of it. “I’m sorry.”

But then she does start crying. Whatever walls Jisu’s been building up for years without Yuna knowing start to tumble down as the body on her back starts to shake as it all falls away.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Yuna’s never moved faster — sliding out of Jisu’s wavering embrace to turn around and envelop her with her own arms. Her hands find Jisu’s back as she brings them close and holds her tight.

“It’s okay…”

Yuna’s whisper gets swallowed up by the sea of sorry’s that flow out of Jisu’s mouth. Her arms hang loosely by her side and it seems like the only thing keeping her up is Yuna’s own body around her. But eventually Jisu’s voice grows hoarse and the tears run dry and the only thing in Yuna’s arms is a limp rag doll of a person.

“Yuna?”

“Yeah, Jisu?”

“Can we go to bed?”

“Of course.”

Yuna carefully pulls herself away from Jisu, making sure she’s supporting her body before fully letting go. She looks at the face that’s been buried in her shoulder for the past few minutes and she sees a Jisu she’s never seen before — eyes so red, cheeks so puffy, miles away from the bright sunshine that’s defined her up until now.

But she doesn’t say anything as she helps Jisu onto her back. She reaches for the blanket and pulls it over them before she nestles back into her side. Just like every night, but tonight feels different.

“Good night,” Jisu whispers. Her voice is still shaky and rough as her hand finds the top of Yuna’s head. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Yuna has to hold back the desperate clutch she wants to make at Jisu’s shirt before settling for a large handful of blanket instead. “Good night.”

Even after everything, it doesn’t take long for Jisu to fall asleep. The familiar metronome that is the rise and fall of her chest comforts Yuna — a part of Jisu that she knows will never change.