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“Kang Sae-byeok!”
The sound of Ji-yeong’s voice stops Sae-byeok in her tracks. She doesn’t look back, because that would break the promise she made to herself the day she watched her father die.
Then she hears the sound of footsteps, approaching her at a run. Ji-yeong throws her arms around Sae-byeok’s waist from behind her, standing on the tips of her toes, and rests her chin on the taller girl’s shoulder.
Sae-byeok can feel the tears on Ji-yeong’s cheek mingling with her own. She knows the intimacy should make her feel uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. Nothing about Ji-yeong ever does; she just… fits , as she does now. Perhaps Sae-byeok hadn’t realised sooner because she had never known what that felt like.
Ji-yeong breaks off the embrace — Sae-byeok wishes she wouldn’t — and a gun is drawn.
Then she’s being turned, allowing herself to be turned, turning herself around for one last look into those eyes. Their faces are inches apart, closer than when Sae-byeok had shoved Ji-yeong against the wall to demand why she was throwing her life away.
The gun is levelled.
Ji-yeong grabs the collar of Sae-byeok’s jacket, pulls down hard, and kisses her.
Kang Sae-byeok is too stunned to reciprocate at first, but then she takes in the scent of Ji-yeong’s hair, finds her hands reaching up to hold the ones which draw her in, her thumbs instinctively stroking over knuckles white with the strength Sae-byeok has always known was there. As she yields, tearing down her walls to return the kiss, that grip loosens enough for Sae-byeok to guide Ji-yeong’s hands back down to their sides, so that she can intertwine their fingers the way she knows she should.
“Thank you,” Ji-yeong whispers, her lips still brushing against Sae-byeok’s, “for being my partner.”
Sae-byeok wishes Ji-yeong meant more than just the games; as she looks deeper into those bright hazel eyes, she realises that she does.
Then Ji-yeong slips her hands out of Sae-byeok’s, raises them again, and caresses Sae-byeok’s face with a tenderness that says the words neither of them have been able to say out loud.
This is how Ji-yeong tells Kang Sae-byeok she loves her.
She knows that Ji-yeong would have rolled her eyes at the thought of just saying it. Such a cliché. Then, as she thinks back to the words they exchanged outside, before they took each other’s hands for the first time, before their fate was sealed, Sae-byeok realises that Ji-yeong had said it out loud after all.
Whatever it takes.
Sae-byeok’s name means dawn. Sunrise. How strange that they should end up here, under this painted sunset. In the golden lamplight, Ji-yeong’s eyes are bright with a warmth that fills Sae-byeok like the sun they haven’t seen in days.
Ji-yeong presses her hands firmly over Sae-byeok’s ears; Sae-byeok realises immediately that this is so she won’t be deafened by the gunshot. Ji-yeong is looking up at her, a tremulous smile shining through her tears. Finally, she has what she’s been longing for all this time: to be held by Kang Sae-byeok for the rest of her life.
There is a soft click as the gun is cocked.
Ji-yeong tenses as the muzzle is pressed to her temple. Sae-byeok leans forward, gathering Ji-yeong to her as tightly as she possibly can. The soldier will still have a clean shot, but they will not take this moment from her.
She cradles Ji-yeong’s head against her chest, gently brushes her fringe aside, and kisses her softly on her forehead.
This is how Kang Sae-byeok tells Ji-yeong she loves her.
Sae-byeok feels Ji-yeong relax, feels the warmth as she sighs into her neck. She realises that she is rocking back and forth, barely perceptibly, one final comforting gesture until the very end. They sway together, in time with the dwindling seconds which die one by one against the image of the setting sun, until the countdown reaches zero.
They fit together like a gun in a holster; the gun that Sae-byeok knows is about to take everything away from her all over again.
The gun is fired.
Ji-yeong is gone before she hits the floor, gone from Sae-byeok’s arms, gone from the future she had painted for them as they sat together on the steps. The warmth of her remains in Sae-byeok’s chest, inside and out. Sae-byeok draws a slow, shaking breath, and tries to differentiate Ji-yeong’s lingering scent from the gun smoke which hangs before her like a ghost.
"Player 240. Eliminated."
Sae-byeok turns slowly and walks away, turns so that she will remember that smile and not the blood on the ground, turns so that no one will see her heart breaking, so that Ji-yeong would be the only person she had allowed to see her cry. She could give her that much, at least.
She tries to think about what today’s date is, counting the days since she had woken up in this place. They had so few days together. She pushes the thought aside as she allows herself to be led up the steps, each taking her further away from where two sets of footprints remain, imprints touching, all that remains of their final moments together.
It is the 28th of June, 2020.
One year from now, and every year after that, Sae-byeok will go to Jeju island. She will order two mojitos, drink hers while she watches the setting sun, and remember the girl who gave her life for her to see it.
When Kang Sae-byeok closes her eyes, she can almost feel the cold glass in the palm of her hand.