itotoro

Heejin thinks it's almost unrecognizable in the dark. So empty of of the sights and sounds of the day, with only the lull of the waves keeping her and Jiwoo company as they walk barefoot in the sand. Beautiful, though. The lights of the Gwangan Bridge dance on the ocean surface, the horizon behind it endless.

Beautiful. Heejin feels Jiwoo squeezes her hand before leading her towards the shoreline. Their shoes are forgotten somewhere far from the water, the edges of Heejin's flowy skirt already wet and sand-crusted. Jiwoo has her pants folded up to her knees as she takes both of Heejin's hands in her own and smiles like a child. “Isn't this so lovely?”

Heejin never thought she'd be at the Haeundae beach so late at night. She never thought she'd visit Busan during the fall season, or that she'd visit Busan as many times as she did this year. Then again, Heejin never thought that she would fall in love with Jiwoo.

“It's lovely,” Heejin echoes, letting Jiwoo tug her closer to the sea. Their feet sink into the sand as the cool water flows through with little whorls. “It's always this lovely.”

Jiwoo lets go of one hand to lift Heejin's skirt so that the water doesn't touch it. “You're lovely.”

“You're smooth,” Heejin says, to which Jiwoo throws her head back in a cackle.

Towards the city, streetlamps light the roads that lead back to Jiwoo's family home. It's a twenty-minute drive in their rental car, but after a long day of running around Busan for errands and other hectic things, nothing really beats the feeling of winding down by the ocean with the one she loves. In fact, to Heejin, it doesn't feel so much like winding down as it does the day is getting started, so much so that the twenty minutes could wait a little longer.

“What time is it?” Heejin asks anyway, because she's pragmatic, and Jiwoo's parents told her to take care of their daughter.

“Should be two in the morning,” Jiwoo says without checking, because she's always right.

“Already?!”

Jiwoo hums an assent, squeezing Heejin's hand before leading her along the water's edge. “It's okay. Mom and dad won't mind since we were out all day with wedding preps. And I'm still feeling energetic.” She pauses, brow creased. “Unless you're tired?”

“No, no.” Heejin shakes her head, the smile already forming on her lips. “Can't you tell?”

They walk hand in hand, two pairs of footprints in the sand. Jiwoo swings her arms as she sings, a song so sweet that it dances in the slow sea breeze. Heejin follows along with her voice as they follow the shoreline, a melody meeting its perfect harmony. It is night but the night seems so bright, every gear of the world perfectly in place as it ticks along, every domino of circumstance falling just right so that Heejin could be with Jiwoo right now.

Heejin wishes the night could last forever.

At the end of the song, Jiwoo looks at her with awe. “I don't know what magic you're casting,” she says, breathless, “but Busan is ten times more lovely with you here.” She puts her hands on Heejin's waist, pulling her close. “And that's coming from a local!”

Heejin's hands rest on Jiwoo's shoulders like they're meant to be there. The sand cradles her feet as she leans forward, bringing herself closer. “I think you're lovely.”

“You're smooth,” Jiwoo replies with a wiggle of her brows, to which Heejin laughs before pressing their lips together in a kiss.

“Can you hold my hand again?”

Episode 7. Sieun is in the middle of washing her face. Seo Jiwan is piss-drunk and Yoon Sol had just gotten her out of a bad drinking situation for the third episode in a row, and this was supposed to be some relaxing night-time winding down. But.

I like you the most.

The soap is sinking into her pores and drying her skin out. But Sieun can't move—can't even close her mouth hanging open—as Jiwan proceeds to call Sol her favorite person in the world.

You? Who's your favorite person?

Sieun really liked Yoon Sol, because Yoon Sol was very no-nonsense, very driven, very fleshed out as a character. She watched the show for Yoon Sol, achieving artist, so naturally she watched the show for Seo Jiwan, the best friend who doesn't want to be left behind.

Seeing Seo Jiwan try to drape herself all over Yoon Sol is making her feel weird. Onscreen, Jiwan begs Sol to “only like me, please,” heartbreak so evident in her expression and their faces so intimately close—wait a minute. Were girls allowed to kiss?!

Sieun splashes her face with cold water. What was the production team thinking?! Those kinds of topics wouldn't be cleared by the media review committee. It's impossible, just unthinkable, how dare they get the viewers hopes up—

Please, Sol. Only like me.

She pauses mid-towel. Jiwan presses her face to Sol's chest, arms falling to her sides, and the usually ironclad expression of Sieun's favorite character breaks.

Stop making me get my hopes up.

Sieun shuts off her laptop screen. Buries her flushed face into the towel and screams.

truth is, heejin's never kissed anyone before, but she used to lie about kissing boys back back when it used to be a thing worth lying about. not in university, not now with the strawberry daiquiri in her system and the lights so low they hide jiwoo's hand on her shoulder. “never.”

“really.” jiwoo licks her lips. more intoxicating than the drinks is the look in her eyes, serious and hungry and nothing heejin's ever seen before. nothing like the sweet and bubbly senior she's grown so enamored with. “you'd get any girl to kiss you with a face like yours.”

fuck, she doesn't want to mess this up. “any?”

jiwoo's thumb traces the skin above her shirt collar. heejin can't hold in her shuddering breath. she knows, she has to know. “any.”

the boomy bass of the music echoes under heejin's feet like a heartbeat. the moment is crystal clear and so painfully slow, every frame of heejin snaking her arm around jiwoo's hips etching into memory. “in that case,” she says, moving closer, “prove it.”

jiwoo's lips curl into a smile as it presses to her own.

it's everything and beyond everything she ever imagined. hot and buttery soft, jiwoo's lips melting and parting for heejin to taste. tongue (oh, so that's what it feels like), breath intermingling, the feel of jiwoo's waist in her arms and jiwoo's fingers pressing into her shoulder blades. she'd forget her name after this for sure—

they break the kiss and heejin gulps in a lungful of air.

“whoa there, tiger, ” jiwoo says with a confident smile, “punched above your weight class there.” but her pupils are blown and she's just as out of breath, no sign of wanting to stop.

her lips from this close look so delectable. heejin's heart skips a beat. “don't want another round?”

jiwoo giggles, already sliding into heejin's lap. “never said that.”

—Kim Kitsuragi, Disco Elysium

-

Chuu the idol is a doll with a dainty frame and a ribbon in her hair. Chuu the idol is the nation's darling, a twittering bird that sings for the world.

At the end of the day's schedules, Kim Jiwoo sheds all that. Walks to the convenience store late at night in a baggy hoodie and a cap that hides the softer features of her face.

It's comforting, how unrecognizable she is after hours of schedule. People passing on the street don't spare Jiwoo a second glance, but point at and photograph Chuu the idol on the billboards overhead. The clothes add bulk to her shoulders and back, a late night camouflage for an idol too tired to be herself.

Themself. Somethingself. Jiwoo just wants to get an energy drink before she plays the night away on Crazy Arcade. The convenience store doors slide open, fluorescents so bright that Jiwoo has to pull the cap lower on her head. She makes a beeline for the cooler, grabs the darkest-colored drink she can find, and goes straight to the cashier before anyone sees her like this.

The cashier covers her mouth, eyes wide with surprise. “Chuu?!”

Jiwoo smiles as kindly as she can. “You know me?”

“Y-yeah.” The cashier fumbles with Jiwoo's purchase, bows her head low as she bags it. “You're my favorite idol, you're so pretty in person.”

“Wow!” The persona of Chuu fits like a glove. Jiwoo's voice brightens with trained excitement. “Thank you for your support.” She tops it with a sweet exclamation, hands shaped in a half-hearted heart.

Chuu the idol falls away as soon as Jiwoo leaves the store, but glass walls of the high-rise buildings around her paint a different picture: a young girl in a hoodie too big for her frame, a stature too short to be nothing but feminine. Jiwoo's steps slow to a stop as she scans the reflection from top to bottom.

Taller. Broader. Happier. Jiwoo imagines her body made of golden wire, constricting what's underneath. She pulls the visor of her cap lower on her head until she sees nothing at all.

Jiwoo knows the face of her ex anywhere.

“Someone you know?” The woman flirting with her at the bar counter—Jiwoo already forgot the name, was it Soo-something or —places a hand on her forearm, sliding it down to her mojito glass. “She's quite the looker.”

“She's just pretty,” Jiwoo says with more force than intended. She tugs her hand away to tip the drink down her gullet, then slams the glass in front of the bartender. “Have anything stronger?”

Because if her ex Jeon Heejin is at the gay bar for a good time tonight, Jiwoo's going to need to be piss-drunk to enjoy it.

The bartender, Jinsoul by the name tag, nods before pulling the tequila bottle off the shelf. In a moment she's serving Jiwoo three shots and a dish of salt and lemon. A little too much if Jiwoo wasn't planning to black out in the next fifteen minutes, but she downs them one after the other because Heejin is here in a little black dress and sexy stiletto heels and Jiwoo can feel her presence from the across the bar.

The bartender gives her a pensive look. “The lady here bothering you?”

“I heard that,” says the woman beside her.

The tequila is going straight to Jiwoo's brain. “Sorry,” she manages to say because she doesn't want to be a total asshole, “just a rough night.” But her vision is blurring already, the pleasant buzz turning unpleasant in her stomach. Her Heejin sensors, though dulled, are tingling when Jiwoo thinks she catches a waft of her ex's perfume.

“Another, please,” Jiwoo says while pointing to a shot glass.

The bartender pours into all three while talking to the woman. “You really should stop hitting on the people at the bar counter—”

“Who are you to tell me how to get laid—”

“Hey, what's a girl like you doing alone tonight?”

Jiwoo blinks. She's sure she's hallucinating but Heejin is here, in front of her, leaning on the bar counter. She's sure she's hallucinating the way Heejin is tossing her hair over her shoulder, hallucinating when the familiar designer perfume assaults her sense of smell.

“The name's Heejin,” Heejin says as if she hasn't already gotten frisky and shit with Jiwoo in the two months they dated, “what's yours?”

“Sooyoung,” says the woman who Jiwoo is sure was flirting with her five minutes ago. Maybe Jiwoo hears a groan from the bartender. “Heejin. Pretty name for a pretty lady.”

“Gotcha,” says Heejin, before placing a hand on Jiwoo's. “Looking for some company tonight?”

Jiwoo now feels like being an asshole tonight. “I already have,” she says, thumb pointing back at the stranger beside her, “this girl Soo—something over here—”

The bartender chimes in. “She's joking, she just downed three shots—”

“And if I don't mind?” cuts Soo-something.

“Fuck, Sooyoung, can't you raise your standards? She's piss-drunk and a mess—”

“She's not a mess,” interrupts Heejin, steel in her voice. “She's really pretty—”

“So am I—”

“Fuck!” The bartender reaches over the bar counter, cupping Sooyoung's face in both hands before smashing their lips together. It kind of looks like a mess, Jiwoo's too drunk to comprehend it. But it's making her nauseous, or maybe that's the alcohol rising up her gullet.

“Uh.” Heejin is twiddling her thumbs. “So, no company tonight?”

“I want to go home,” Jiwoo tells her ex right before she vomits.

Them, in the waiting room, Heejin playing with her hair and Jiwoo pulling her close enough they could tumble off the couch. And it's sweet, and it really happened, and they were in a public place, sure—but it doesn't feel right to be seen this way. Not at those angles, not for thousands to ogle at.

Her door slams open, Heejin clearly furious as she plops down at Jiwoo's bedside. “I can't believe they used those!”

Jiwoo hates being the voice of reason, not with Heejin, but she slips into it as she sits up to rub her friend's back. “We're idols, Heejin. They use whatever they can.”

Heejin groans with frustration, brows furrowed with big emotion. Jiwoo learned early enough that Heejin always stews when she's mad, cooking up her thoughts with a slow boil until it's ready to serve. And Heejin's really mad, right now, trying to speak again and again but not having the right words to say.

So she waits for her to cook, hand moving to rest on her balled fists. She takes in their proximity, returns to that moment in the picture where she was so close she could feel Heejin's heartbeat in her chest. Maybe that's why Heejin's angry, same as the ache she feels now. That was their private moment—now memorialized on the internet for all the world to see.

“Okay,” Heejin says, an imaginary kitchen timer ringing in the corner of Jiwoo's mind. Her balled fists relax, the gaps of her fingers wide enough to fit Jiwoo's. “It's not a big deal.”

That's an unexpected dish. Jiwoo feels her brows meeting in the middle. “Huh?”

Heejin turns to her, all anger of a few minutes ago gone from her expression. “It's just a picture. It's just companies being companies, capitalism being capitalism.” Then she smiles, squeezing Jiwoo's hand. “But it doesn't capture what it's really like to be in your arms.”

It makes Jiwoo's breath hitch. Her heart is beating now, really fast, faster still when Heejin crawls into her bed and into her arms.

It's just like the moment at the couch, Heejin playing with her hair, her arms pulling Heejin close. Their proximity at this moment, her heart beating so loudly she's sure Heejin can hear it.

But they're in her room now—no cameras, no managers, just Heejin's eyes fixed on her. This moment will be lost once it passes, but it's theirs and theirs alone. Just the way Jiwoo wants it.

“Unnie,” Heejin whispers, cheeks turning pink, “can you feel my heartbeat?”

And Heejin doesn't have to say anything else—Jiwoo understands. So she lets Heejin close her eyes as she closes her own, and nobody gets to see the kiss.

Not until this stupid dodgeball game.

“Can't you fucking hit her?” Jungeun is busting a lung from the other end of the court. “There's no time!”

It's the annual sports festival and Sooyoung thought that local dodgeball god Jiwoo, would ensure their Red team a clear path to the overall championship. Right now, however, the local dodgeball god in question is quaking in her shoes.

“I'm trying,” Jiwoo calls from their side. But is she, really, when after eliminating every other blue player on the court she misses three shots in a row aimed at Jeon Heejin?

The Jeon Heejin in question is waving at them from the middle of the court. Sooyoung is about to pop a vein. “Look,” she tells Jiwoo, “if you don't want to hit your girlfriend, I'll do it myself—”

“Don't—I mean, she's totally not my girlfriend!” Jiwoo's voice wavers with her eye contact, the grip on the rubber ball tightening. “Me? Girlfriend of the most gorgeous girl in school Jeon Heejin? No way—”

“Throw the fucking ball!” Jungeun yells. Jiwoo yells back on instinct, eyes screwed shut, and Sooyoung watches as she throws the ball with enough power to knock someone out.

Straight at the ceiling.

Now if Sooyoung weren't there herself, she would never have believed it. But as the ball ricocheted straight from the ceiling to give Jiwoo a concussion, Jeon Heejin leaps from the middle of the court to block the ball with her arms.

And that's how Sooyoung gets a trip to the clinic.

That's right—it's SpiderChuu.

Heejin scrambles from her bed, rushing to open her window for her nighttime visitor. SpiderChuu, up-and-coming neighborhood superhero who's also Jiwoo's “best friend” and designated midnight messenger. She pulls her curtains apart to the familiar view of SpiderChuu, swaying upside down from who knows where.

SpiderChuu swings like a pendulum, cross-legged and pressing her palms together in a plead. “Jiwoo is so sorry!”

Just like that, Heejin remembers the events of the day: a scheduled date with Jiwoo that her girlfriend flaked on again, with no notice and only Heejin waiting for hours at a table for two. The thought of it makes her want to slam the curtains shut. But the person here isn't Jiwoo, it's Jiwoo's best friend who she has never been introduced to—

Heejin slams the curtains shut. It'll just be another scooter explosion or another lame excuse for Jiwoo again, something Heejin should stop settling for at this point. She jumps into bed, hides under the covers, squeezing her eyes shut until SpiderChuu gives up and leaves.

But SpiderChuu keeps knocking, now a pattern sounding like an apology. Sorry, sorry, sorry. It's insistent, even when Heejin buries her head under her pillows, and it's so consistent that it starts playing in her head. I'm so sorry Heejin, so so sorry—

Heejin gives up. “Fine!” she groans, tossing off the covers. She stomps as loudly as she can, swinging open the curtains to the view of SpiderChuu with her masked face pressed to the window pane.

It's like SpiderChuu is oozing every bit of remorse Heejin wants to see from Jiwoo. She even sniffles. “Please let me in.”

Who can refuse the friendly neighborhood superhero groveling at their window? Heejin relents, swinging the window open so that SpiderChuu can tumble in.

But before SpiderChuu can launch into her usual spiel about how Jiwoo wanted to make it but something important came up and she's soooooo sad about it, Heejin holds up a hand. “Wait.”

SpiderChuu clamps a hand over her masked mouth. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Heejin echoes, before stringing together the many thoughts floating around in her head. “I don't want to hear any of Jiwoo's excuses tonight.”

SpiderChuu looks like she wants to launch into a thousand soliloquies, but she nods her head and clamps her hand harder over her mouth. A touching act that makes her feel a lot more familiar to Heejin. Must be a best friends thing?

Maybe Heejin can be a little nicer to this mystic messenger. “Can you tell her some things for me instead? I'm not breaking up with her or anything.”

It earns a vigorous nod from silent SpiderChuu. She even stands up a little higher.

“Okay,” Heejin repeats, eyes falling to her clasped hands. Even if it isn't Jiwoo she's talking to right now, what she wants to say makes her feel oddly shy. “I was hurt that she stood me up today. Your best friend didn't even text me—”

“Her phone died—” SpiderChuu clamps her other hand over her mouth. “Sorry!”

Heejin groans. “I'm trying to let my heart out here, okay?” Her hands ball into fists, voice rising with her frustration. “Jiwoo doesn't show up, doesn't text or call to let me know if she's okay, then sends her best friend to my window all the time to make excuses for her. I just wanted to see her, SpiderChuu!”

She rubs her wet eyes. Damn, she really shouted at the neighborhood superhero. SpiderChuu isn't even at fault here, just trying to explain for her best friend—

SpiderChuu pulls her into an embrace. Tight, so familiar that Heejin finds herself melting into the arms of a stranger.

“Jiwoo's such a sucky girlfriend, isn't she,” the heroine mumbles, squeezing Heejin tighter. “She's so lucky to have you.”

The comment makes Heejin heat up. “Um—”

Then SpiderChuu clamps her shoulders and puts her at arm's length. “Dontworryyourenotcheatingonheroranything!” she yammers, shaking Heejin. “She actually wanted that, too, like if she were here she'd be on her knees or kissing you—”

It makes Heejin blush harder. Maybe it's the hug, or the thought of kissing Jiwoo after being so angry, but Heejin gets an idea. “Actually, can you do me a favor?”

When SpiderChuu nods, Heejin takes her gloved hand. “I'll slide this off,” she tells her, the heroine's breath hitching as Heejin hooks a finger under the glove. She peels it up to the knuckles, then brings the palm up to her lips.

Heejin thinks of Jiwoo as she kisses the palm of this stranger. Her girlfriend, who she misses dearly. Then her face heats up and she fixes the glove of the heroine before pushing her towards the window.

“Wait—what—huh?” SpiderChuu presses back against the window ledge before Heejin can throw her out. “Heejinie—what?”

“My message for my girlfriend.” Heejin can't even look the heroine in the eye for the last moments of the conversation. “Can you send it to her?”

SpiderChuu pauses, mask betraying nothing. But Heejin can feel her serious gaze, uncertain and wanting to speak.

“She'll love it.” SpiderChuu tucks Heejin's hair behind her ear. “I'm sure she will.”

Then SpiderChuu tumbles backwards out the window, in the blink of an eye swinging away and shouting in the night sky. “Jiwoolovesyousomuch!”

And maybe, just maybe, Heejin sees her steal a kiss from her palm.

“Hey, Heejin.”

On the other end of the call, the sun hasn't set yet. Heejin is wearing a hat over the short, blonde hair Jiwoo chose for her.

“Jiwoo, hey. You're still up?” Heejin's voice rumbles differently from when she's a meter or a breath away, but it's still Heejin's voice.

“Of course!” Jiwoo brings out the last jolt of energy she can muster, propping up her pillow behind her so she can sit. “I wanted to wait for you. What time is it there?”

“It's a little past 7PM. Isn't it so cool? The sunset is a lot later here.” The camera shifts away from Heejin's face to a haphazard tour of the scenery—the hotel room shared with Jungeun, the window that leads to a view of the quiet city—then it's back to her face, a little too close but not close enough. “The weird thing is that everything's closed by 5. Except the bars and some other stores, but this city seems to be very relaxed.”

Everything looks so far away from the phone screen. Jiwoo sighs. “It looks so pretty there.”

“It is. They even have trams, like in the movies.” Heejin in pixel still oozes excitement. “The next time we tour, we can go together.”

The promise sends a pang of guilt through Jiwoo's gut. Guilt and a little dismay.

“Sorry,” Heejin says, eyes downcast, “I shouldn't say that, should I?”

Now Jiwoo becomes the optimist. “It could happen in the future, who knows?” She lookes at Heejin, timezones away, and hopes. “We can still tour. But even if we don't, you can take me around. Or we can go to Switzerland.”

“Yeah, we can.” Heejin nods, then sighs. Then looks at Jiwoo with hopeful pixel eyes. “I bought you stuff today.”

“More stuff?” Jiwoo puffs out her cheeks. “And you won't tell me?”

“Yeah.” Heejin's smile widens by the second. “I'm filling up a whole suitcase by the time this tour ends.”

Jiwoo yawns. It's time to lay back down, prop her head under her pillow. “What else have you been up to there?”

“Just missing you,” Heejin laughs when Jiwoo whines. “Tonight we're going to explore the nightlife.”

“Don't forget your passport—”

“That was one time.” Heejin pulls the hat down on her head. “You look so cuddly.”

Jiwoo hums. Her eyelids get heavier when she shuts off her bedside lamp, barely opening for the screen. “You should come back to cuddle me then.”

“On top of all your schedules?”

She does have a lot of schedules, spanning most of her waking hours even when the girls return from the tour. “I'll schedule Heejin-time. Priority overnight gig.”

“Heejin-time.” Now Heejin hums in approval. From the other side of the call she's looking around, then in a blink of an eye brings the camera to her lips for a goodnight kiss. “I'll let you sleep now.”

It makes Jiwoo feel warm. “Goodnight, Heejin.”

Heejin, timezones away, smiles as if she's there with her. “Goodnight.”