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“Y’all won’t believe what just happened at Jackson Wang’s party!”
Lara’s voice rings loudly in Megan’s ears. It’s not helping her headache at all. The last thing she needs right now is to hear all the fun she missed at that party just because her immune system decided to betray her. As per usual. Dammit...She wanted to go so badly. It was Yoonchae’s first time at a 'secret' private party like that after turning 18 and Megan wanted to be there too.
She sighs. “I’m feeling a lil' better by the way. Thanks for asking!” She yells from the couch, trying not to cough. No one hears her anyway. They are too busy arguing about who gets to tell the story.
“Girl, you weren’t even there,” Lara tells Dani, raising an eyebrow.
“What?! I was there!”
“Yeah but, like, not from the start. You were shaking your ass on the dance floor.”
Dani pouts, arms folded across her chest. “Fine.”
“So," Lara starts. "This cute guy comes up to us, to me and Yoonchae, and he’s asking Yoonchae ‘you come here often?’ and that's like—I mean, it's like one of the cheesiest pick-up lines in the book, right? And then Yoonchae says, ‘No’. Like, flat out: No.”
“Because I was—I was confused.”
Yoonchae is visibly flustered, and it makes something inside Megan tighten into hard knots. The logical part of her brain tells her that it might just be because Yoonchae is embarrassed to be at the centre of this story but—still. Megan doesn't like where this is going.
“Exactly." Lara continues. "Yoonchae was like: what the fuck. And she gave him this look, like, sassy as fuck. And I was trying so hard not to laugh because he was obviously hitting on her, right? But he seemed nice so I didn’t say anything—”
“You didn’t say anything?!” Sophia's outburst startles them all.
Megan is more surprised that it took her this long to say something. But, oh, well. Better late than never. She is relieved she can count on Sophia to be the voice of reason here and stop this madness.
"Hold your horses." Lara holds up a palm to placate Sophia. “I was ready to intervene, obviously, if he crossed the line or whatever. I was ready to be all like: is he bothering you, queen?”
“As you should’ve!” Sophia shouts again, scandalized. “Who even is this guy? What’s his name? Where did he come from?” She looks like she’s about to have a stroke.
Lara groans. “Oh my God, relax. He’s not a creep or anything like that. Ask Manon. She knows him.”
Sophia shoots Manon a wide-eyed look. “You do?”
Manon gives a casual shrug. “Kind of? He’s a friend of a friend of a friend. I don't know him that well but yeah...you know. In the clerb, we all fam."
Sophia rolls her eyes, unamused. She turns back to Lara. “What’s his name?”
“Aiden? No, Adrian! Adrian?” Lara glances at Yoonchae to confirm if that's correct.
Yoonchae nods. “Yes. Adrian.”
Adrian. What a stupid name, Megan thinks.
“Right, so then this guy—”
Megan tunes out the rest of the conversation. It all turns into background noise that sounds distant in her ears; the words are all distorted and far away, letters out of balance. It feels like she is a beat or two behind the present, struggling to keep up. Feeling a little woozy. Maybe it's the fever. Maybe it didn't pass yet.
Yeah, right. Who is she kidding?
She keeps her eyes on Yoonchae, searching her face for something. Anything. Megan is not exactly sure what she’s looking for. Maybe a sign of disinterest? Something that could put her mind at ease. Because suddenly all she can think about is them—Yoonchae and some faceless guy—at that party, underneath the flashing lights, standing close together, too close. The thought of it stiffens her jaw, and Megan has to put conscious effort into keeping her face muscles relaxed.
“You should text him.”
That sentence grabs Megan’s attention. It makes her snap out of her thoughts. “You gave him your number?” Her own voice sounds alien in her ears, as if it’s coming from miles and miles away.
All eyes turn to look at her, and Yoonchae opens her mouth as if to say something but Dani is quicker. “He gave her his number. Look!” She proudly lifts Yoonchae’s arm. “Our baby is all grown up!”
Sophia gasps.
Manon wipes a fake tear from the corner of her eye.
But all Megan can focus on is that phone number on Yoonchae's arm, scribbled across her inner wrist. Black ink on porcelain skin. Megan feels her heart crack.
She thinks she should be happy too, or proud or something—because Yoonchae is her friend—but it’s like, that’s not what she’s feeling at all right now. She feels sick. Like, actually sick, to her stomach. She feels her jaw clench, her molars grinding. She should have known that a girls’ night out with Dani and Lara of all people would spell some kind of trouble. She should’ve been there. She should’ve done something—which is a completely insane trail of thoughts because it’s none of her business, really. It’s not like she can control what Yoonchae does, or who she hangs out with, who flirts with her and who she wants to flirt with. It’s not like Megan has any right to even care about any of that. Because, her and Yoonchae, they are just...friends. That’s all. Friends.
And friends are supposed to be supportive, they’re not supposed to feel like this…
Megan only realizes she's digging her nails into her palm when it starts to hurt. And she tries hard not to think about how much she wants to just—get up, grab Yoonchae by the wrist, and take her to the bathroom where they could be alone, and Yoonchae could wash her arm clean off that ink.
“I’m so proud of our girl,” Lara declares loudly.
And Megan knows that she should say something like that, too. At least pretend to be happy.
She swallows against a dry throat. After a long pause, all that tumbles out of her mouth is: “Yeah. Good job, Yoonchae.”
The vowels taste like copper in her mouth. She tastes blood.
The others are quick to notice the lack of excitement in her tone. They all turn to stare at her.
Megan strangles out a laugh. "What?"
“Don’t mind her," Lara says; her voice full of mirth. "She’s just a little jealous.”
Megan wonders if Lara is talking about Megan missing all the 'fun' at the party or...if she means it in the way Megan thinks she means it. A playful jab dipped in the truth. She knows Megan well enough. And she's perceptive.
“Well, yeah, obviously," Megan tells her, faking another laugh. "Yoonchae’s my girlfriend. No one can take her from me.”
None of them take her seriously. And why would they? It’s not the first time Megan has declared that Yoonchae is her girlfriend. All in jest.
The topic of the conversation changes but that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach stays.
It doesn’t go away the next day either. It's like a bitter taste in her mouth, a knot inside her chest. She tries her best to ignore it, and act as normal as she possibly can.
She finds Yoonchae in the living room, scrolling through her TikTok. It’s quiet, save for the sounds from Yoonchae’s fyp.
“I’m bored.” Megan plops down next to Yoonchae on the couch. “Lemme doodle on your arm.”
“How old are you?” Yoonchae comments without looking up from her phone, but she automatically extends her arm for Megan to take.
Megan smirks as she takes the marker cap off, holding it between her teeth. She takes Yoonchae’s arm, pushing up the sleeve of her hoodie so that she can write on the inside of her wrist. Her skin is so pretty. Soft. Unblemished. Except for the fading lines of that guy’s handwriting. It's barely noticeable anymore, unless you pay close attention. But still. Megan doesn’t like it. Her fingers unconsciously curl a little tighter around Yoonchae’s wrist. Tight enough to grab her attention and make her glance away from her phone, at Megan.
Megan gives her a sweet smile, feigning innocence. “Don’t look," she says. "Don't look until I’m done, okay?”
She feels Yoonchae shiver a little, under her touch, under every accidental brush of fingers over bare skin. It's a little distracting, Megan can't lie. The sudden thought of Yoonchae walking around with Megan's handwriting on her skin, like some kind of mark, like some kind of brand—it stirs something inside of her.
“There you go." She clears her throat. "All done."
Yoonchae takes a look. Tilts her head, curiously. “What is it?”
“Cherry blossoms," Megan says, her fingers tracing the bone of Yoonchae’s wrist, the outline of what she doodled there. "It's like my tattoo. See?" She sweeps her hair out of the way to show the cherry blossom branch tattooed behind her ear. "Now we match."
Yoonchae smiles; a small uptick of her mouth. "That's cute."
Then she quickly looks away. Her attention brought back to her phone. She starts typing something, and that's not anything new or unusual, but now there’s the knowledge that Yoonchae has some guy’s number in there, so Megan’s mind begins to wander…
“Are you texting him?”
The question is out of her lips before it can get quality checked by her brain.
Yoonchae blinks at her, confused. “Who?”
“The guy.”
Megan doesn’t say his name. She’d like to pretend she doesn’t care enough to remember it. That she definitely did not try to google him last night, even though she has no idea what he looks like, or that she didn’t entertain the idea of paying a witch on Etsy to practice voodoo on every single guy named Adrian in Los Angeles. Okay. In hindsight, Megan realizes that was definitely an overreaction but, in her defense, she can’t really control the unhinged thoughts that cross her sleep-deprived brain at 4am.
She clears her throat. “The guy who gave you his number. Is that who’s got you smiling like that?”
“No.” Yoonchae shows her the screen of her phone. Oh. She’s talking to Eyekons in Weverse DMs.
A weight lifts off her chest.
But then—
“Are you gonna call him?”
God. She's acting like a possessive girlfriend, even though she has absolutely no right to.
Yoonchae takes so long to reply that Megan is starting to think she either didn’t hear the question or she simply doesn’t plan on answering at all.
“I don’t know,” she says, eventually. “Maybe.”
Megan swallows the unwanted disappointment. “Maybe?”
Yoonchae shrugs. “Maybe.”
She looks back at Megan, like she’s expecting Megan to say something now—but what the hell is she supposed to say in response to that? She feels like she’s been drop-kicked, and thrown off a cliff.
She doesn’t say anything.
She doesn’t ask Yoonchae to clarify, what that ‘maybe’ means. Maybe more towards yes. Maybe more towards no. Megan decides she doesn’t want to know. It shouldn’t even matter. But it bothers her. That’s the problem. It bothers her so much. The thought of Yoonchae going out with some guy, falling in love with him…It feels like icy fog on her skin, something cold and deeply unsettling, seeping into her chest, gripping her heart like a vice, nearly suffocating.
Megan thinks, part of her, unconsciously, always expected, maybe even hoped, Yoonchae would always be there, always in Megan's orbit, a satellite of a girl.
So the plan, somewhere in the back of her mind, was just: someday.
Maybe. When the timing finally feels right. Because that’s the thing about time. It’s weird like that. A little cruel in the way it flows and plays with the odds. Because one day they’re 16 and 17 and it’s right but Megan doesn’t know yet what she wants and then she turns 18 and it’s suddenly not okay. But then Yoonchae turns 17 and maybe, just maybe, it’s not so bad, if only Megan could just say what she wants. But then she turns 19 and it’s suddenly unspeakable. To feel a certain type of way about Yoonchae. It’s shameful to admit it out loud, it's shameful to admit it even to herself.
So, yeah. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the plan was someday.
It’s not marked on her calendar, an alarm set for a specific date, a specific time, when she’ll turn around and Yoonchae will be standing right there, and well—
Megan could finally tell her: I like you. I think I’ve liked you from the start. I think I’ve liked you even when I thought I couldn’t stand you. I like you so, so much.
Which is so lame. But it's true.
And now, here she is, 19, and Yoonchae is 18, and the odds are finally in her favor: the timing, the math, all the pieces of the puzzle aligned just right. If only she could just—open her mouth and talk. Say what she wants to say. All the words that have been burning on her tongue for months and months.
But she can’t. For some reason, she's tongue-tied. For some reason, she’s still afraid to cross the line.
She hears Yoonchae sighing next to her, and Megan snaps out of her thoughts when she feels the couch cushion move. Yoonchae gets up and Megan’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. She points the remote towards the TV and turns it off, the living room becoming a blur of shadow and dim light. She turns around, propping her arm up on the back of the couch, tracking Yoonchae’s movements. She has this anxious feeling that she waited too long for something that’s now in danger of completely slipping away.
“Yoonchae,” she says, and the words spill out of her mouth before she can stop them: “Don’t call him.”
It sounds desperate, the way she says it. And maybe it is. Maybe she is.
Yoonchae stills, turns her head to stare back at Megan, dark eyes narrowed in question.
Megan bites her lip. Unsure. “I mean...You don’t know that guy. He could be a creep—”
“He was nice.”
Megan scoffs. “Yeah, sure. They all seem nice at first but you can’t trust guys so easily.”
Yoonchae just stares at her for a moment, frowning a little, and Megan can see that she’s so out of line here. She can feel it in her gut like something twisting, digging deeper.
"I mean..." What is she saying? It tastes a little like greed; it sticks to the back of her throat like the bitter aftertaste of a pill. “All I’m saying is...”
“So you can go on dates and I can’t?” Yoonchae asks, and Megan can’t read the emotion in her voice at all. But it lingers in the air like smoke. Suffocating.
“I…” Megan falters, caught off-guard. “That’s not what I’m saying...”
Yoonchae lets her frown deepen. “Then what?”
And she’s definitely pissed now. Yoonchae is intimidating when she’s angry. Megan is not scared of her, of course, but the glare Yoonchae can turn on people can be bone chilling sometimes. Megan thinks it’s ridiculously attractive usually but having it directed at her like this, now, is a different story. It’s a cold, quiet fury that chokes the breath from her lungs.
All of a sudden she wants to apologize, because Yoonchae doesn’t owe her an explanation, doesn’t owe her anything. But all she ends up saying is, “Nothing. Nevermind.” And her mouth is all cotton. She can’t even speak normal words anymore, everything ends up sounding like she’s trying not to care too much—which, okay, might be exactly what she’s trying to do, but there’s a difference between her knowing that and Yoonchae knowing that, and it’s the biggest difference in the world, it really is. “Forget I said anything.”
She turns back towards the TV, turning it back on, flipping aimlessly through channels.
Until Yoonchae blocks her view, arms folded across her chest, gaze sharp and unyielding. “No,” she says, slow and quiet. “Tell me.”
Megan opens her mouth, then closes it, swallowing thickly. She clenches and unclenches her fists on her thighs. “I just…I don’t…” She squeezes her eyes shut. And the thing inside her chest finally explodes. It fills her veins with jealousy that she knows she has no right to feel, because they are just friends, but—“I don’t want you to go on a stupid date with some stupid guy, alright? Because I…" She takes a deep breath. And lets the whole truth out. "Because I like you. Like, like you like you. You know what I mean? I like you.”
There. She said it. And now she doesn't dare open her eyes to see Yoonchae's reaction.
"Megan."
She slowly blinks her eyes open to see Yoonchae standing there, right there, in the space between the TV and the couch. The light from the screen makes her glow. The details of her face obscured by shadows. Yoonchae sighs. She looks to the side, raking a hand through her hair. She mumbles something in Korean, Megan has no idea what. She thinks she hears jinjja and pabo somewhere in there, maybe. She understands that much.
“Did you just call me an idiot?”
“Because you are.”
“Wow." Megan huffs a laugh, trying to mask how stupidly embarrassed she feels right now, how hard she’s blushing, how fast her heart is beating. "You really know how to make a girl feel special.”
Then Yoonchae steps forward, moving closer. The air between them disappears as Yoonchae cradles her jaw, holds her cheeks, and looks at her.
Megan is stunned into silence. For a moment, all she does is stare. Eyes wide, mouth partly open in surprise. She doesn't dare move. She doesn't dare breathe. She doesn't even dare to blink because what if she wakes up—what if this is just another one of her stupid dreams?
But then Yoonchae kisses her, and it feels true, it feels real. Megan doesn't waste another second. She's kissing Yoonchae back. And it feels right.