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And the only solution was to stand and fight
And my body was bruised and I was set alight
But you came over me like some holy rite
And although I was burning, you're the only light
Only if for a night
- Only If For A Night, Florence + The Machine
--
Dahyun leaves her bike by the graveyard gate, half-hidden by the ivy vines. Not that there’s much need for hiding, as the night is dark and quiet, but Dahyun figures she can never be too careful. She makes her way down the path to where the graves are, their headstones just silhouettes in the dark, cracked and rusted by the centuries. Some have been kicked over by mischievous children, some have fallen with time. The once neat flowerbeds have been taken over by weeds and vines, blankets of wildflowers spread across the overgrown grass.
It’s a warm night, somewhere between late spring and early summer, between the stress of final exams and the anticipation of holidays. Dahyun hums to herself, making her way through the maze of headstones. She can’t wait for the summer, either. For the hot afternoons down by the creek, dipping her feet in the water, a soft thigh pressing into her own--
“Yah, Kim Dahyun,” a voice whisper-yells, startling Dahyun out of her thoughts. An airy giggle follows. “Oops, did I scare you? Did you think I was a ghost?”
Dahyun looks up, giving a breathless laugh of her own. Sana is sitting on one of the bigger gravestones, smiling, her bare legs swinging back and forth. Dahyun wants to tell her she’s the farthest thing from a ghost, that Dahyun’s never met anyone as full of life and wonder. “You’re far too clumsy to be a ghost,” she says instead.
“Rude,” Sana says with a pout, a hand on her heart in mock offense. She jumps off the headstone she’s been sitting on, giving it a small pat as a thank you. She smiles again, then, running to where Dahyun is still standing, stopping when they’re only inches apart. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Dahyun says, still a little breathless. Not too long ago she might’ve blamed it on the scare, but she knows better now. Sometimes, she thinks -- hopes -- that Sana does too.
They stand there for a moment, looking at each other, listening to the grasshoppers in the night, just two girls frozen in time. “Did you bring it?” Sana asks then.
Dahyun’s heart jumps. “Yeah.” She reaches into her pocket, pulls out her cousin’s swiss army knife. It feels cold in her hand, heavy with purpose, with promise. “I-- I borrowed it from Jinyoung, he said he wouldn’t tell anyone. Said we’re a bit dramatic, though.” She leaves out the part where Jinyoung smiled knowingly and called their plan romantic, with all the sincerity of a boy who understands. Dahyun said nothing, only punched him in the arm and left, but it makes sense now, the way Jinyoung sometimes talks about the American boy next door. Dahyun wonders if that’s what she sounds like when she talks about Sana, too, if her voice gets small and soft, if her cheeks get pink.
Sana huffs out a laugh. “Dramatic?” She gestures to their surroundings, grinning, her eyes moon-bright. “What could possibly be dramatic about this? Just two girls chilling in an ancient graveyard at night.”
Dahyun rolls her eyes. “Mhmm, okay.” She sits down on the ground, the grass cool and wet against her legs. “Come here.”
Sana follows her, sitting cross-legged between the gravestones, facing Dahyun. She twists her hands in her lap. “This is cool, though, right? I mean, my grandma used to say it’s best to do a blood oath on, on holy ground, and I-- I really wanted this to be, you know, special, because--”
“Hey,” Dahyun says. It’s the first time she’s seen Sana feel nervous about this, and the first time either of them has said the words out loud tonight; a blood oath. It was Sana’s idea, like most things are. She suggested it one night, shyly, lying on Dahyun’s bed, her hair falling over the edge like a black waterfall. Dahyun couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather be bound to forever, and Sana’s arms around her when she agreed, Sana’s laughter against her neck, felt like everything she could ever want. That feeling hasn’t changed. “I love it here, okay? I want to do this with you.”
“Okay,” Sana says, quietly.
They say nothing as Dahyun folds open the knife, makes sure it’s clean and sharp enough. Her eyes have adjusted to the dark by now and, glancing at Sana, she can tell she’s wearing one of the flowy, floral dresses that once belonged to her grandmother, a graceful, kind-hearted woman who often spoke of witches and yokai. Dahyun knows Sana loves wearing her old dresses, knows it makes her feel like she’s with her.
“Ready? Do you want to wait?” Dahyun asks after a moment. They’re in no rush, still hours from sunrise.
Sana shakes her head, strands of hair falling over her eyes. Dahyun can’t help but run the fingers of her free hand across Sana’s cheek, brushing the hair back behind her ear. Sana’s mouth falls open, sucking in a breath. “I’m ready.”
Dahyun nods, pulling back. “I’ll go first.” She can count on one hand the times she’s ever been the first to do anything scary, especially when she’s with Sana who’s always ready for adventure, but somehow she’s not frightened now. She adjusts her grip on the knife, pressing the tip of the blade into her left thumb. It’s sharp so she doesn’t have to press hard to draw blood, but she still hisses at the feeling, watching a drop of red run down her finger. Sana watches her, Dahyun can feel it, concern and gratitude and--
“Okay, my turn,” Sana says, taking the knife from Dahyun with a gentle smile. She slides the blade over her right thumb, to match Dahyun’s left, leaving behind a small wound, blood starting to surface in little beads. “Ouch,” she laughs. “Alright, Dahyunnie.” She holds out the little finger of her right hand, grinning, as if they’re children making a silly pinky promise.
Dahyun’s heart is about to explode, beating rabbit-fast as she loops her pinky finger with Sana’s. “Forever?” she whispers. They haven’t talked about what forever means, whether it means the same thing for both of them, whether it means staying how they are now, or something else. Dahyun will take whatever Sana wants it to mean, but she still wishes.
Sana pulls on Dahyun’s hand, bringing them even closer together. “Forever,” she confirms, pressing their bloody thumbs together.
It hurts a little, the wounds pressed tightly to each other, but it’s the emotion of it all that has Dahyun staring at the ground, choking back tears. She’s shaking, sure that Sana can feel it through their entwined hands. She’s just feeling a lot, all at once, like there’s too much love inside her for one small ribcage to hold, all of it for this girl in front of her, with the floral dresses and soft giggles and the warmest heart. It feels too significant to not do anything about.
Dahyun can be the brave one for once. “Sana,” she tells the earth below them, her voice shaky with sobs. She takes a breath, two breaths, and looks up at Sana. It takes all her courage, a hundred times the strength it took to cut her thumb, but she says, “I really want to kiss you.”
It’s not exactly a love confession, but, well, Dahyun is taking baby steps.
Sana’s eyes look wet when she smiles. “Really?” She leans forward, one hand still locked in their oath, the other landing on Dahyun’s thigh, warm fingers on goosebumped skin. “Kiss me, then, Dahyunnie.”
Dahyun does. She closes her eyes and presses a short peck to Sana’s mouth. She pulls back, then -- looking into Sana’s eyes, to make sure it’s still alright, to make sure she’s still there and this is real -- before kissing her again, deeper, longer. Sana smooths her tongue over Dahyun’s bottom lip, making them both whine and laugh breathlessly into each other’s mouths.
They only let go of each other’s hands when the sun rises, painting the graveyard pink and gold, the blood on their fingers dark and dry.