#substanse

there's an inexplicable stir of feelings that crashes over her when she observes saerom on television for the first time. it's something shiah remembers all too vividly ⏤ tangled within the sheets of a former lover's bedroom, the screen flashing to a channel at random for some semblance of background noise during a conversation. there's a familiar timbre that flows from the speakers and strikes her like a blade to her fluttering heart, seizing her attention almost instantaneously; gaze flitting to the screen to be captured by her ( former? ) friend's features after years of silence made them distant. the previous discussion deteriorates into nothing, forgotten just like her lover's presence as she finds herself ensnared by the drama for the rest of her time there. the burden of responsibility for their distance bears upon her shoulders, regret weighty like lead.

and from that time on shiah continues to follow her career from afar, using internet accounts to push back against negative commenters and troll accounts. a small atonement, she believes, as she isn't sure where they stand or if it was even her place to reach out in hopes of amending what they once had. saerom was one of the few people within her life that she could empathize with in earnest, a mutual comfort so greatly needed and nurtured during their classroom days. but there's a divergence that becomes palpable past graduation, when it seems like saerom is settling into her illustrious university, and shiah remains careworn with a bleak future as a college dropout and defective low-end worker. she was the one to sever their ties first ⏤ they were already conversing less due to schedules, and the last thing she wanted to do was debase saerom's worth by compelling her to stay for her sake. she wasn't selfish enough to dim her friend's light. it's for the best.

several years have slipped away since that last day, the world relentlessly revolving on its axis, and shiah has risen from that desolate place. reaching out to the other woman isn't a possibility within her mind until she wakes to find saerom's picture besmeared upon the page of gossip girl, with something along the lines of secret affair and homewrecking a ten year marriage. it's all nonsensical ⏤ the thought of saerom having the gall to do something like that, and how netizens fall in line with the self evident fabrication as if it were law. they become rabid dogs, latching onto any account or article with her name with inexorable aggression, teeth sinking deep into her reputation. it's only then that shiah decides to reach out in the midst of it all via instagram dm, the knot within the pit of her stomach serving as a reminder of how saerom remained on her side when gossip girl launched her into her own seventh circle of hell.

what she doesn't expect is for saerom to answer; thinking her little words of consolement would swept away within the turbulent sea of messages she receives. their conversation doesn't last that long ⏤ too much time had passed between them to try to catch up via text, shiah says, and instead they arrange a date to meet in person at a restaurant with private rooms for security. it's where she finds herself now, downing a crisp shot of soju to alleviate the nerves that threaten to rise up. the door opens and the sudden nature of it causes her to raise from her chair, coming face to face with her best friend after god knows how long, and it takes everything within her to bypass the bitter pricks behind her eyes.