Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Stay still.”

Firm hands planted at the base of her waist. Overhead lights obscured her vision – rich, brown tufts of hair appeared every now and again when the owner of the hands stood and ducked. Forced to be as still as a rock against the crashing waves, it feels like she forgot to breathe – with a yank, the oxygen is pulled out of her lungs, but at least the corset is finally in place.

“Stop being so dramatic,” a grunt, followed by a chuckle. The designer – on more cruel terms, her friend – took a few steps back, head tilted to the side. A pin neatly popped into the pincushion on her wrist, and she sighed. Content. Or not. It was hard to tell.

The signature scent of the girl’s perfume fills her senses, mixing with steamed fabric and something light. Garment bags, half-zipped duffels, and a set of glimmering eyes stared back at her. 

“You always slouch – stand up straight, you’re not supposed to shrink in this,” she dragged, taking a step closer again to smooth over her waist-line, tugging the linen slightly to sit better over the curve of her hip. “If I didn’t know you, I’d think you just walked out of a magazine page.”

“I’m not shrinking,” she mumbled, evidently a lie.

Long hair and even longer legs – an appealing composition. A pleasant palette of beiges, creams and other earthly tones, meeting to create an uncanny symphony within someone who had no affinity for songs. Espresso brown – a new color she had just discovered, layered her skin, doing a poor job protecting the figure she wasn’t keen on showing off. Smooth against the faint line of her muscles, it glimmers with slight sheen, the structured corset on top of it pale cream colored, no lapels. 

It is a motion she knew all too well – when Kirima raised her eyebrows. Doubt.

“It’s just – too much,” Kyoshi shifted, uncomfortably stretching her arms. Until now, she stood still like a mannequin, only moving whenever she was allowed to. Kirima’s eyes softened. She reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, only for it to fall back again. It always did.

“It’s barely anything,” she whispered, “These people are hyenas expecting peacocks. They are waiting for you to stumble, but you’ll be fine. You’re still you – just, a version ready for a posh gallery.”

Kyoshi offered a small, unconvincing hum as a reply. If anything, she felt like a moth in a museum of butterflies – definitely not meant for this environment. 

The many thoughts her overactive brain produced all died before reaching the cusp of her lips – thankfully though, Kirima continued. “This is an important night for you, Kyoshi. Let those people see the artist – not the clay under your nails, or the smudge on your cheeks. Not to mention,” her voice rose higher, “It’s an important night for me too. You’re my walking canvas. I made those clothes specifically for you, so you better straighten your spine and sell them, so we can share the recognition. I really don’t want to work another summer as a cashier.” 

There was a lot at stake. Glancing down on herself, a restricted inhale was the only thing audible from her. “You’re seriously talented, these pants fit me like nothing else. I doubt I can sit down, but that’s probably for the better.”

Kirima nodded – holding a blush stick in her hand, she evened out a bit of it on her ring finger, before reaching up to Kyoshi’s cheeks, spreading the color. “You’re taller than anyone I ever fit before,” she commented, “I adjusted the pattern five times.”

A sheepish little smile curled Kyoshi’s lips. “You didn’t have to.”

Kirima poked her in the forehead. An ouch broke out of her. “I wanted to. Also, don’t forget – you’re not the only one who wants to break out of her current life. And I don’t even have a boyfriend to go to.”

Kyoshi’s eyes slid to the side. Sighing solemnly, she did her best not to take the comment to heart. “If anything happens –”

There they were again, going through the same old script. However, the door swung open deliberately, and the reason for Kyoshi's momentary guilt appeared. Not because he was a terrible person, by any means – but every single one of her friends loved to tell her she wasn’t as lonely as she acted.

“Wow,” the voice carried through the tiny dressing room, making her stomach flip. 

In front of her, Kirima pulled herself straight again, eyes cast to the newcomer. “I knew you were serious about tonight, but I didn’t expect this.”

Kyoshi glanced back at him above her shoulders, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. It was hard to breathe, but it was no longer the corset’s fault. The footsteps approached, and she hummed lightly. “It’s Kirima’s work.”

Her boyfriend nodded, not addressing Kirima with the same look of admiration. “You look like someone I’d be terrified to talk to,” he continued, touching the corset like it was his handiwork. “Damn.”

This was the moment he finally spared Kirima a glance. “You’re good, seriously. Of course, you’re lucky to have Kyoshi as a canvas – I’ve been telling her modeling agencies would kill for her, but she lacks the confidence of a model.”

He smiles – his eyes turning back to Kyoshi. That compliment… She swallowed. “And me?” he asked, pulling her closer by the hand. “I’m lucky to have you on my arm tonight, of course.”

Kirima sighed. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to be. Kyoshi, if you need me, I’m only a call away. Please be careful not to spill anything on yourself.” 

Kyoshi nodded, watching Kirima disappear eventually. Hovering just a little bit taller than her boyfriend, she smiles when they’re left alone together. It was kind of like a routine at this point – staring at each other a few moments, his hands on her waist and hers playing with his hair by his nape, before pulling her in for a quick kiss. It is light, practiced, always the same. His tenderness is unlike anything she’s ever experienced before, making her possibly the luckiest girl in the entire universe.

You had to be really special to enjoy Yun’s undivided attention.

Kyoshi’s breath is momentarily stuck in her throat, but she’s kissing him back – it’s natural. When they part, Yun’s smile lingers, soft but sharp around the edges. “Are you ready for tonight?”

Her bravest smile is the reply. “Do they have your pieces lit already?”

“Oh yeah,” he grinned, “My section looks amazing . I talked to the event director – they’re expecting a huge turnout! I’ve already talked to a couple of important people – investors, art fanatics, collectors. I can already tell tonight’s going to be one of my most important nights ever.”

For weeks now, this was the only thing she’d hear from Yun. It was natural for him to be so excited – so eager, so Kyoshi was definitely in the wrong for not meeting his feelings with the same intensity. The nerves took over her with ease, so she inhaled and exhaled sharply.

“You’ll do great,” she replied, her fingertips smoothing out the sharp collars of his overlapped shirt and suit. “They’ll love you. Well – they probably already do,” her eyes dropped to his jawline, “Everyone does.”

She was so lucky to be noticed by someone as confident and talented as Yun. It inspired her to do more – to do better. Her hands snaked down his arm, eventually grabbing his hands. “I was wondering – do you know by now where my sculpture will be?” 

It was only for a moment that his eyebrows pulled together, and then he was back to smiling. If Kyoshi blinked at the wrong time, she would have missed it. 

“Oh – right,” he ran his hand through his hair, “Okay so… This sucks, but apparently there was some miscommunication with the layout team? Some mix-up with the spacing. They said the dimensions weren’t compatible with the display flow, so – yeah. They couldn’t place it after all.”

Kyoshi’s breath hitched. It took her everything not to lose her composure – for Yun. “But you promised they’d save space –”

“I know , babe. I told them you were bringing something truly personal – I even showed them, both the sketch and the images you sent me! They all seemed thrilled, I even told you. But they made these last-minute changes to optimize traffic flow or something – I didn’t sign off on it. It’s not on me, I swear.”

For a long moment, her eyelashes pressed together. She recovered slowly. Was there anything that was appropriate to say now?

Yun softened, stepping closer to her again. “Hey… Don’t let it ruin your night, okay? We’ll get you a solo feature next time. Something just for you. Bigger. Better. Tonight? Let’s just be here, together. I need you. It’s still a big deal.”

He took hold of her right, raising it to his lips. Kyoshi smiled – but her eyes remained downturned. “Just… stick by me, alright? According to my Father, there’s going to be a couple of critics here? Even someone from ArtThread ! I want them to see you with me. Please, just trust me.”

Kyoshi nodded. She was particularly good at nodding. His grin persisted as he grabbed her by the hand. “Let’s go and turn some heads.”

She followed him out – there, and everywhere. The soft swish of Kirima’s fabric – the one she was undeserving of – was louder than the heartbeat in her ears, and she was grateful for that.

So. Many. People.

That was Kyoshi’s first thought.

The gallery thrummed with cultivated – refined energy, thick perfume, expensive suits, the occasional clink of crystal glasses. Overhead lights spilled from high fixtures, sleek scones and glanced back from the polished floors, the sound of patent leather shoes and stilettos filling her ears. 

Important looking people – possible curators, donors, collectors wove through the crowd with smooth precision, clipboards, mingling with a familiar professor here and a scrutinizing gaze staring back there. There was a student – he wore a pinstripe suit and he gestured wildly near a sculpture, and the couple standing in front of him whispered quietly. The woman wore a pearl-lined necklace and the man held her by the waist elegantly.

She didn’t belong here. She probably never would, either. 

Yun guided her through the room with that smooth confidence of his – shoulders relaxed, his smile genuine and wide, brief enough to be considered exclusive. By a young – seemingly incredibly relaxed man with broad shoulders, Yun receives a handshake. Familiarity blossoms between them, and she trails behind him like a shadow that was stitched to his form, her fingers curled around his fingers, eyes darting everywhere but at faces.

When he introduced her, his hand was warm at the small of her back, fingertips gingerly brushing the fabric that hugged her – “This is my girlfriend. She’s brilliant – you’ll love her,” and every single time, her mouth opened, but her words failed her.

A sheepish nod, a faint smile, and she hoped she seemed polite and not utterly terrified. She didn’t need to say much – or do much, as Yun carried the conversation like a current, pulling all of them along, shielding her just enough with his jokes and knowing glances, until her pulse finally settled.

After a while, the conversations began to dissolve into background murmur. With little affinity for painting, Kyoshi was nothing more than an idle by-stander – the elegant, obedient pendant on his arm as he glided through the gallery with his practiced charm and effortless precision. With the tilt of her head, her eyes wandered the posh crowd – low chatter filled her ears as she examined a large sculpture against the wall, her heart anchored in her chest. 

Maybe she could slip away for a few moments, to have a closer look? Surely Yun wouldn’t mind some time away from her either.

That’s when she felt it.

A presence. 

Dressed in a low-cut satin shirt, a color akin to a drop spilled wine, sharp black pants, she moved through the crowd with ease – mostly because it parted for her. Dark strands of hair just about brush the sheen of the satin, her hair pinned up with perfect precision and an expensive-looking pin. She lacked the accessories – if one didn’t mistake the dark bronze eyes as jewels, burnt amber, crackless, and the thin silver chain that sat between the gap of her collarbones. 

Her eyes flicked back to the conversation when Yun’s warm palm settled on her waist, pulling her a little closer. Another set – or more like four of them started glazing over Kyoshi again, and she felt the champagne glass in her hands quiver. She didn’t even particularly like champagne.

She stood where he needed her. Followed through the failed attempt of posing anytime someone raised a camera at them. Stayed quiet just to not interrupt the pitch.

“That’s when I realized,” Yun beamed as the skin around his eyes crinkled, “The oil wasn’t just working with me. It was leading me! Exploration of Solitude Through Displacement – the name came to me in a dream.”

Kyoshi read the plaque a handful of times over – metaphors of fragmented landscapes and human condition. It was elegant, sterile, and Kyoshi had barely heard about Yun or his thought process as he was working on it.

It was easy for Yun to turn heads. His laugh was a delicate chime in the morning wind, glimmering, easing people to approach. Even throughout the importance of his own night, he took the time to introduce Kyoshi – his girlfriend, stripped of her artistic flair, of her identity, reduced to the atoms of being his pride, his joy, his muse.

Anytime the art donors, the gallery owners, the professors referred to her as a “catch” and called her “beautiful”, the overwhelming urge to sink underneath the ground took over her.

And Yun? Always standing a little in ahead of her never actually looked back to see if she followed. 

Kyoshi tried her best to look like she belonged into this crowd. Her face hurt from the forced smiles and palms sweated from the anxiety that kept her alerted at all times.

“It shows,” the donor hummed thoughtfully, “You’re one of the few young artists who didn’t give in to the laziness of contemporary arts. You understand stillness in an old-school fashion – more importantly, the solitude of stillness. That’s a rare talent and it will get you far.” 

From the sticky sugar-coated and over carefully designed compliments, the voice that interrupted the chatter made Kyoshi’s heart sink.

“Yun,” came the voice – low, unimpressed.

Her boyfriend turned, his face lighting up. “Rangi!”

A few loose strands of hair framed the otherwise sharp features – head tilted slightly to the side. 

Kyoshi blinked. She didn’t know her – in fact, she had never heard her name before. There was something about her stance – shoulders pulled straight, arms folded loosely across the chest, her expression unreadable – that made the air around them freeze.

“I didn’t know you’d be here tonight,” Yun said, his smile switching to the grin he wore for faculty children and potential investors. Perhaps even more? “You look sharp and breathtaking, as always.”

Kyoshi’s stomach dropped. This was no flimsy compliment – nothing just to get on the good side of someone. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but whatever history they shared screamed tense.

“Mm,” Rangi’s gaze slipped past him, directly to Kyoshi. Panic ensued in her body. The way she was stared at made her feel even worse: she definitely didn’t belong here. She took a step closer to Yun, her left arm twirling around his to anchor herself. “And you?”

“This is Kyoshi – my girlfriend, and my greatest muse.”

“Or so I see,” Rangi noted flatly, as pleasant a scalpel to the head would be. “I thought she was your assistant. The way you trail after him –,” her eyes shot over to Kyoshi, “It was a bit hard to tell.”

Yun laughed – nervously. “She’s just a little shy tonight. This is her first real art exhibit.” 

Rangi raised an eyebrow. “Is that what it is? Where are your displays?” 

Kyoshi tilted her head. Her voice was unfamiliar to her as she asked, “Excuse me?”

Rangi didn’t flinch. “He didn’t introduce you to the last dozen people he spoke to or give you a chance to introduce yourself. Only in this last conversation, he turned his back on you twice. So forgive me if I assumed he hired you to take his photos or hold his coat for him. Based on your reaction, you have nothing on display either.”

Kyoshi blinked. Her jaw tightened – but it wasn’t fear, nor anxiety. It was out of heat.

Yun’s sheepish charm crawled back onto his features. “Okay, alright – that’s enough, Ra–”

“No,” Kyoshi said, taking a step forward, her voice more composed and even than anytime that night before, “You’re condescending for no reason.”

The air froze around them. Rangi didn’t seem agitated. Yun, on the other hand, shifted in panic.

“You don’t know us – not me, not Yun. If this is your judgement on someone as talented, generous and attentive, then you’re in the wrong.”

Kyoshi’s hands trembled – she met Rangi’s eyes head on, the detail of Yun’s eyebrows rising in amusement lost on her. “You don’t know how much he’s done for me – nor do you know how hard he worked to get here! He’s proud of me – he believes in me, and he loves me – I am his girlfriend, and not his assistant! Supporting him is the least I can and will do.”

Rangi was silent. 

Not angry. Not offended.

Just… watching.

Somehow, that was worse. The silence that followed was deafening.

One long, unreadable look. Then,

“If you say so.”

And then just like that, she turned. No dramatic exit – no real condescending looks. A clean cut, delivered. Leaving everyone in the room in bubbled stillness.

Kyoshi felt her heart thundering – the pain lost on her features thrummed beneath her skin, crawling onto her like a fever. 

The next thing she felt was Yun leaning in – grabbing her by the hand and whispering, “You actually stood up to Rangi? That’s my girl. ”

He pressed a long kiss to her temple, and the crowd around them began to move again, murmuring softly. His hands fell to her wrist, grounding her with a touch. “Don’t let her get to you, Kyoshi. She’s just a bitter loner acting like she’s better than everyone.” 

Kyoshi smiled – it was the type of smile she forced on herself when she wasn’t sure what she did was right or not. Perhaps if her words were met with more force she’d feel better about her reaction.

“There’s still much to do – we haven’t talked to everyone yet. Come on, let’s continue.”

The music started again, and the script continued. Defending someone you love was the same as being seen – validated. It was empowering. Parts of Kyoshi quietly fell out of frame, but Yun deserved this. She was the only person who understood and loved him for who he truly was.

Desperate hands pulled onto her – momentum built, and mere moments later a body met the mattress, quickly followed by the other. Clothes rustle – then thumps, hands bustle, heart jumps . A breathless back-and-forth, the half-crescent moon spotted on the otherwise spotless skin, nails digging into flesh – seeking an anchor.

His lips are assertive and hot, trailing a familiar vein on her neck and reaching the valley of her shoulders – headless anticipation builds and breaks free from her ribcage, her eyes fluttering closed as she pulls, pulls, pulls.  

Just a little closer – Don’t let the distance teach me a truth your nearness once denied. 

“Here’s the thing,” she grumbled, for the tenth consecutive minute, “These Italians? They were crazy. If the marble you wanted to use for your sculptures had even the tiniest little vein or crack in it, the whole thing was garbage. Garbage! Like,” she threw up her hands, “sorry, rock, you’re not perfect enough for the Renaissance! Oh and don’t even get me started on the ‘pointing machine’. You know what that is?”

The unimpressed – to say the least – visage of Kirima blinked back at her. She was sitting on a chair – and Kyoshi, was slumped on the library floor. “No, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”

“Yes I will,” she raised her voice, “It was a device used by these madmen to transfer measurements. Think – modern day 3D grid mapping! And the worst part of it? Some artists used it obsessively while others just winged the measurements. They went from ‘hey, this is where the nose is supposed to be’ to ‘ta-da, David.’ Isn’t that infuriating to you?”

Kirima’s head bobbed forward. Was she to face the desk, she would have hit the wood head on. “Kyoshi, we’re friends. You know that I love you. But you know, even friendships have limits. Boring me to death with your facts – that, mind you, you only remember out of frustration, will not get you closer to finishing your paper. You keep on procrastinating – I will go and grab some coffee.”

Kyoshi allowed her body to fall back against the bookcase, groaning in pain. Kirima was right. “Hey,” she called, life visibly leaving her body – books were left open everywhere around her, as well as old papers and some of her own doodles and notes. Kirima glanced back with a hum. “Can you bring me one too?”

The girl stifled a laugh. “You know it.”

And back to silence, she was.

“Seriously though –” Kyoshi grumbled to herself, her eyes lazily scanning the spine of the books. “I don’t know how long I can do this. Michelangelo, why couldn’t you just make bust sculptures? I can’t memorize every tendon in the body, I’m not a show-off.”

Sliding to the side, it really felt like life was evaporating from her. Closing eyes for a few seconds, she thought – maybe getting a few moments of rest would be good for her already strained eyes. She’d wait until Kirima got back, kicked her back into shape, and they’d work together. Yes!

It’s a perfect plan.

Then, footsteps approach.

“You were quick,” she muttered, opening her eyes with the obvious weight of drowsiness. In mere moments, the zipper is yanked shut on her mouth, and she is sitting up straight.

It is her!

The girl from a few weeks ago – the girl from the party! What was her name…? Rangi?

Kyoshi’s heart plunges to the pit of her stomach – for a few moments, the owner of the striking bronze eyes stare at her, her expression not even giving her a hint of what was going on inside of her head. Then, like she was litter on the ground, she steps over her – for a couple of moments, examining a series of books with maroon spines and golden carvings. 

Effortlessly, she pulls one out, and stacks it on top of the three that occupied her other hand – and just like that, she’s coming back. Kyoshi’s waiting – expecting the absolute worst, destruction, the end of the world even.

But, nothing comes. She’s stepped over again, and the girl walks away – her dark hair curls at the ends, shifting as she pulls herself straight. Suddenly, she halts. Glancing back at her from above her shoulder, the raspy voice suggests, “Michelangelo’s letters are in the back. It’s the best primary source.” 

Then, gone as she came.

Kyoshi’s stunned – her entire body is trying to recover from the mocking and shame she expected, and received none of. Then – without hesitation – she jumps from her place, rushing over to the very end of the row she was being depressed at. Her eyes hastily run through the authors, the titles, stopping by an empty space. When she peeks inside – a lonesome book is slumped over there, fallen in the back, just like how she was earlier.

Pulling it out, it reads,

Robert Walter Carden,

Michelangelo: a Record of His Life as Told in His Own Letters and Papers.

No way. A million miles per hour, her heart beats – she looks around, but there’s no witnesses to this. She just came into contact with the predator that sits at the top of the food-chain, and more importantly: she survived.

“I’ll call you when I’m going home. Good luck with your parents.” 9:23 PM

This was the last message Kyoshi had sent him. The overhead lights of the studio cast a warm glow on her hunched body – she must have gone mad already. Coils of clay hugged tightly a metal frame, the outline intentionally craggy and stooped. It was what she envisioned – but something was still annoying her about it.

The top of the figure missed the details – and that is what she planned on working for just a little longer. Multiple weeks had gone by since the art exhibit, and what originally squeezed her heart almost dry, was now fueling her with newfound motivation. She had to be as good as Yun was. That night – she was a disappointment. She was not good enough. So that’s what she kept hovering over herself – to be worthy enough to call herself his girlfriend.

With a boxwood knife in one hand, and a slightly wet paintbrush in the other, she’s following the outline of a face she saw with perfect clarity in her mind. A dip here, an arch there, and with one hand, she’s holding onto the sculpture as if it was alive – cupping where the cheek was supposed to be, the entity’s head turned downwards. 

She hums to herself – a little longer, and they’ll talk. 

With a soft indicator, her phone buzzes – a few moments more and she’s softening the clay with water, followed up by the taps of her thumbs, and then her eyes shift to the side to see the notification.

Instead, she’s met with someone staring right back at her.

It is no surprise she jumps – the wooden knife and the paintbrush fly high in the air, then land on the ground with an unceremonious clank. Her widened eyes flew back in the direction of the door – this time, the owner of those cruel eyes that seemed to haunt her now wore what looked like gym clothes. 

Navy shorts and an ivory hoodie – no designs or patterns. The dark strands of hair, even from a distance, curled from sweat, and the signature topknot she’d seen her with every single time so far was out of place. 

“What – what are you…”

Kyoshi felt naked under the scrutinizing gaze – she wore a mocha maxi skirt with a green shirt, its straps translucent fabric tied as a delicate bow. The outfit was originally complimented by a vivid purple butterfly shawl as well, but now instead of that, she only had her apron on that was very much due a wash. Taking a step forward, she attempted to hide the outlandish beginnings of what could be called a statue – if one was to mock it – she so lovingly stared at earlier.

“The lights were on. It’s already past ten. I was wondering.” 

That’s when her gaze sunk down to her phone – the time faintly displayed on the lock screen. 10:10.

She groaned to herself. “He –”

But by the time she looked back, she was already gone. Again. 

Dumbstruck, she turned back to her only company. Staring at the metal frames and the plaster underneath it, she hummed, “Can you believe this? I almost had a heart attack.”

A month and a half, and spring is in full bloom. To her right, windows adorn the cafeteria from the ground to the ceiling, overlooking a slump of land that evened out into a picnic-like area for the campus students. She’s waiting – giddily so, keeping her bag close to herself that hid a gift. 

It was April – blooming, beautiful, a blessing. Eleven whole months of her and Yun, on the dot. A year ago this time, she was already entertaining the idea of seeing him – sweet promises, endless discussions, late night walks in the light spring breeze. He was attentive – shy, but dedicated, perfectly aware of what he wanted.

Her.

Always endlessly kind – opening the door for her, he brought flowers to every date, always paid for their meals together, and seemed to adore no matter what knick-knacks she had got for him. Something that reminded me of you – she’d say, only it was handmade, hand painted, hand glazed, hand burnt, and even the imperfections carried the evident indication: I think of you, all the time.

So this was why people were so crazy about love – for the longest time, it avoided Kyoshi too. No high-school romances outside of pranks and dares in which she pulled the short end. No long-living crushes, no fairy-tale like love that endured whatever storm brewed on the horizon.

This, however, changed with Yun. Around him, her heart fluttered – a beautiful butterfly, she’d seen the world in more colors than what she was ready to comprehend. A single touch of his fingertips and electricity ran down her spine – one of his looks could make her day, and as hard of a realization as it was, she was at his complete mercy.

Buzz.

That was her phone – since she’d already cancelled the offer of eating lunch with her friends, she sat alone in an almost eerily empty cafeteria, waiting around. She was no master chef – but everything laid out on the table was hand-made. With a smile, she pulls her phone out – the slightest glance at him on her lock-screen makes her feel weak. 

One motion, a swipe – and all of her previous joy suddenly comes crashing down against a wall. 

“Kyoshi, I know we had plans but something urgent came up. You understand, right? People just won’t leave me alone. I’m sorry but I’m not going to make it – but I’ll come by tonight! Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you. Just hang tight. You know I love you.”

If anyone was to see her right now, they’d possibly think someone close to her has just died, based on her distorted features. Having lost the energy to text him back, she locks her phone, placing it on the table.

He’s busy. Of course. Yun’s very important – at the start of our relationship, we promised each other not to get angry if the other one gets suddenly busy. It can happen to either of us.

Kyoshi scoffed.

The meal laid in front of her, bitterness fluttering in her chest as she gazed at it. At the center sat omurice with a sprig of parsley tucked on top of it like a bow, the shape slightly lopsided. Beside it, hand-rolled gimbap rested in spirals, some a little loose, the edges not quite sealed, the content evidently showing: carrot, spinach, pickled radish. There were steamed dumplings, dipping sauce, a small bowl of noodles with scallion and sesame, and a tiny box of neatly sliced fruit – strawberries, kiwi, star-shaped cuts of apple, following the hues of a sunset.

She had practiced for weeks – making the same mistakes again and again, the dormitory kitchen thick with the scent of soy sauce and steam, until she could have done it with her eyes closed. It wasn’t perfect, surely. But she made it for the two of them. Alone, she couldn’t possibly eat this much – normally, a quarter of this would be her whole day’s meal. 

Eventually, she just buried her head in her hands. It’s okay. At least, there was no one to see her cry.

The inevitable sinking into her feelings for the day had already started – until, a tray got nearly slammed into the table, right in front of her.

Naturally, her eyes pop open – she’s almost jumped out of her skin by the sudden sound! And then, for the third time, appearing like a ghost, there she is again.

Her cheeks flush – anger spreading across her features until even the tips of her ears are read. “You again!”

As if it wasn’t a big deal, Rangi looks up. It almost looked like a challenge that she was wordlessly proposing – will you dare to say more? 

But alas, Kyoshi is tongue-tied. She didn’t even notice when she stood up from the bench – but quietly, she sits down. It is only for a split moment, but she knows her eyes are not deceiving her – Rangi smiled. She must think she’s so funny – and somehow, Kyoshi is not entertained at all.

In one hand, she’s holding a sandwich split in half – and with the other, she’s firmly holding a book open, her eyes darting through the lines faster than how Kyoshi can follow her irises.

The prolonged stare of course comes with a consequence – Rangi returns her gaze, and inevitably, it drops to the food between them. It rolls off her tongue as she says, “Eat.”

Kyoshi was starving – she skipped breakfast so she’d certainly be hungry for lunch. It didn’t sit well with her, the things Rangi had allowed herself – everywhere she went, she seemed to be there too. Grabbing a fork, Kyoshi begins her meal, her eyes occasionally shifting up to take a better look at her.

Before she decided to ruin her night with Yun, Kyoshi had never seen Rangi before. Yun had never mentioned her existence – and surely, she used to think, people would talk about someone who had such a commanding presence. But anytime Rangi stumbled into Kyoshi, she was alone. No friends – no followers, it was always just her. Conveniently appearing. 

“Last time,” Kyoshi mumbles, mouth full, “At the studio…”

Rangi’s gaze stayed on the book. “You came from working out. What do you do?”

No answer. So much for small-talk… How could someone be so uptight! Did she think she was almighty? Oh, she was only just as beautiful as if she was sculpted by the hands of a goddess – features sharp, eyes striking… But looks aren't everything, and Rangi’s personality was the furthest thing from beautiful.

Kyoshi huffs – she stuffs some more stir fry into her mouth, angrily glaring at her phone. When she’d already given up,

“Hung Gar,” the answer came, “Shaolin Quan. It’s Kung Fu. ”

It took a handful of blinks for Kyoshi to recover. Finally, she could have a normal conversation with Rangi – her words that night planted unforgettable thoughts into her head, and strangely enough… Although annoyingly superior, she seemed like she could be quite normal.

She was a martial artist. It… Fit her. Taking a sip from her hot cup, her eyes trail back to Kyoshi first – then, the food second. She closes her book with intent, and just like every single time before, she’s ready to leave. 

“Wait,” Kyoshi stood up, her fingertips on the table. In the motion, she just tipped over a cup of tea, and it just happened to land on her skirt directly. 

Embarrassing. Rangi’s eyes sink, then, they rise. She doesn’t laugh. With simple movements, she pulls a plastic package of tissues from her bag, and then throws it in the air for her to catch. Whatever Kyoshi wanted to say was overwritten – panic took over, and as she fumbled with the plastic packaging, ripping it open to dry up the darkened patch on her skirt, Rangi gave her no further mind.

Like always, she just left.

This is the worst anniversary ever.

She hadn’t slept.

How many days has it been? Three – four, by any chance? 

Though she scrubbed and scrubbed, she could not rid her hands of the faint smell of clay. The sleeves of her turtleneck were rolled up, exposing a half-healed cut near her wrist where the wire tool had slipped. 

It felt like there was no escaping this situation – she was exposed, raw and open. Too open.

The gallery space – a converted studio space with whitewashed walls and concrete floor – were empty, outside of another handful of students who were busy setting up their own display pieces as well. Some were clipping photographs to white boards, while others fussed with the lightning, arranged books and shifted their architectural models. Every bit of space was filled up with someone’s creativity – and then, there was Kyoshi.

She found herself facing her statue for the fourth month in a row – or perhaps even more, as it’s been already two months since she allowed her foolishness to conquer over her and she believed she was bigger than who she was. 

On the wooden plinth, the statue isn’t towering – it looms above the viewer, the figure of a man plus a burden. The upper half was upright, bowed, evidently human. The lower half melted into a wide spill of curved clay – soft, rippled, touched by erosion. 

Atlas’ Dream, she named it.

Although her professor advised against such a reference based on myths, she knew her mind wouldn’t be changed. Her jaw clenched – the more she looked at the figure, the more issues she could find with it. What if they misunderstood her intention? What if it collapsed mid-way through the exam? What if they’ll think she was lazy? She couldn’t afford a bad grade, not while she was nearing the end.

Her fingers twitched. Kyoshi ached to reach out – to run her hands over Atlas’ Dream again, perhaps to wipe away the doubt that she placed on its surface like dust. Instead, however, she just stood back – her feet soft against the concrete as she shifted from one leg to another.

It was late into the evening when she shaped the face – the rest of the studio was empty already, everyone was gone. It was just faded music, the hum of her own voice, and the rhythmic rasp of her loop tool on the damp clay.

Originally, he wasn’t meant to have a face. The concept was always about the body – the burden, and how it manifested. But when she reached the neck – when the curve of the shoulder softened and slumped, her hands moved without waiting for permission from her brain.

It was the shape of his mouth she worked out first. A cut of excess here, firm presses of her thumb there. It wasn’t exactly like his , there was bound to be asymmetry – one corner lifted slightly higher, even if the fracture of the emotion would be lost with time. Then, the nose followed – followed by the shallow dip between the eyebrows. She didn’t name him, but Kyoshi was perfectly aware who’s features she was following – tracing, even.

Her emotions were carved into the clay – for hours, she sat in silence. She didn’t mean for it to be identifiable – the highlight was on the burden, the erosion, the passage of time. Cheekbones intentionally dissolved, the pinch between the eyebrows of pain. Only if one looked closely, would they be able to tell who’s struggle he really carried.

The gallery lights made her feel clean and sterile. It burnt at the base of her spine – would they see it? No. The face wasn’t meant for anyone but herself. Maybe the panel would recognize the emotion, but certainly not the person.

A hush of authority, and three people appear. Clipboards, scarves, intentionally structured outfits, sharp glasses. The footsteps echoed on the concrete, and Kyoshi found herself pulling her spine straight even before they looked her way, her hands folded so tightly her knuckles paled.

”I’ll be there! You know that I wouldn’t miss it for the life of me, right? This is a big moment for you.”

Perhaps that promise made her even more anxious than the actual examination itself. The professors started at the other end of the room – which gave her plenty of time to breathe, calm down. Only, she was never good at those things: she could only panic.

She watched every step they took, their gestures when they nodded or shook their heads in practiced unison. Listened to her peers’ confident speeches and elaboration of their pieces. Sometimes, the professors smiled. Other times – whoever it was, they were not so lucky.

The pulse was growing louder and louder in her ears. Where’s Yun?

A panicked look around – and she’s met with the three rigid faces, as well as a bunch of other students, lowerclassmen who came to examine. The tallest examiner tilted her head slowly, the pen tapping against the clipboard. 

For a while, they said nothing.

They walked a slow arc around the sculpture as if they orbited it. One of them crouched slightly, examining it from every angle closely. Another stood back, eyes scrutinizingly looking for what to call her out on.

Kyoshi wished Atlas could speak for himself now. But, she was not so lucky.

The older woman spoke first.

“The scale is effective. It’s dominating, but it’s not overwhelming,” Kyoshi nodded quietly, “However, the visual logic… seems to fray between the upright form and where it – melts? ” 

It started out too good. It wasn’t meant to fray. The intention was for the statue to unravel, not fray.

“It’s ambiguous where it needs to be precise,” added the second, a man with kind eyes but a terribly bored voice. “There’s emotion, yes, certainly. But it seems like you didn’t carve a clear path through it. What is the viewer meant to take away? If I didn’t read the plaque, I would not know.”

The question knocked whatever oxygen remained in Kyoshi’s lungs out. She wanted to answer, ”He’s letting go. That’s the point.” , but nothing comes out. Nothing.

The first woman spoke again. “These marks –,” she started, “it seems like your piece is unfinished here. The base,” she tapped the piece with her pen, a slight frown creasing her forehead. “It looks like the clay is coming off. As if the material’s deteriorating. Did you struggle with the structural integrity?” 

The man chimed in again. “Yes, I agree with that. There’s softness – even thinness to these edges. Did you reinforce this part? What kind of support did you use?” 

The words stalled in her throat. The erosion pattern she worked so hard to develop, the careful, methodical marks that had taken her weeks to perfect – as if the statue had to endure the passage of time all the same – was being dismissed as decay and laziness. 

“The sculpture is crumbling under its own weight. That’s not what you wanted to happen, right? It should feel monumental. It is just fragile.”

Her chest tightened. She forced a deep breath down her throat and opened her eyes – ready to quack some kind of an explanation, something to save herself with.

“You’re wrong.” 

She stepped forward, her arms casually crossed in front of her chest. Kyoshi really wanted to sink right now – there was no better time to do it. Her face was an evident reflection of her internal meltdown – the worry that took over her. One glance from this girl – that’s all she gets, before her eyes move back to the panel. 

“You’re missing the point of it. The pattern of decay is not an accident nor a mistake – it’s erosion. Geometric mimicry that resembles the passage of time and weight of his burdens.” 

The examiners turned to her. It seems like she had authority, even over them in a sense – they raised their eyebrows, sure, but made no attempt to stop her or scold her for interrupting. 

“Geometric?” the third professor repeated, “It seems more like…” her eyes flicked back to the base, where the flaked edges and crumbled textures spiraled outwards in soft, sweeping arcs. “It’s too rough. The surface isn’t smooth, and –”

“It’s not meant to be smooth,” she interrupted, “Look at it again. The pattern – it starts in lines, then spirals outwards in a fractal fashion. It’s not falling apart – it symbolizes a systematic decay that mimics the patterns of nature. Look at it closer. It conveys that time has etched those shapes into its form.” 

The entire room fell silent. 

Kyoshi felt her heartbeat in her throat. She was surprised – and that was probably an understatement. But Rangi was right – the erosion wasn’t just about emotional release, it was meant to symbolize the crumbling underneath such a heavy burden. She wasn’t even aware of the patterns in her own work until now.

The third examiner cleared her throat. “I see. We seemed to have overlooked that the erosion was intended. I personally thought it was overworked material.” 

The other two agreed with this statement, seemingly.

The man – with some more life in his voice now – spoke up next, “Perhaps I was too quick to judge the structural soundness of your work. There’s definitely an architectural quality to the erosion, now that I look more closely.” 

The first woman nodded along. “Intentional decay.” 

The third woman scribbled something onto her paper, and without looking, said, “The texture could be more cohesive across the entire piece – especially the face. The features were hard to distinguish, and the overall meaning of the piece is obscure, but… it’s a work well done. Pay attention to these more next time – and be ready to speak for yourself. As for you, Miss Sei’Naka,” she glanced to the side, “It would be beneficial for you to learn not to interrupt.”

Finally – finally, Kyoshi’s heart snapped free. She stuttered, “Y-yes, I will, thank you so much,” and nodded her head earnestly, all of her hair falling into her face. She knew her face was burning up from sheer embarrassment. The low murmur of the crowd reinforced her of as much – she forced herself not to flinch as the panel walked away, their path taking them away in front of her. 

When she looks up again, her overwhelming feelings of crying in front of everyone finally gone, she’s not met with Rangi – instead, Yun is staring back at her. There are white lilies in his hand, artistically spread – and a smile that could be interpreted in many different ways. 

“This is a masterpiece,” he breathed, and Kyoshi felt betrayed – mostly because she forgave him so fast for failing to show up yet again. She threw herself into his arms, the flowers squished between their colliding bodies. He places a hand firmly on her waist, rubbing her back up and down – a motion of comfort. And when she opened her eyes, just as she came, Rangi was nowhere to be seen again. “This will get you a great grade, Kyoshi!” 

Yun was so excited. He must have only heard the end of it. Kyoshi wasn’t sure if she should be grateful or hurt that he had missed all of it. This was an important day for her – she would have loved more support. And support, she had gained, from the most unexpected source.

Atlas’ Dream

A shape unravels, caught between weight and release.

In the quiet collapse, time wears away at the edges –

not lost, but transformed.

A presence once certain, now whispered in shifting forms.

Face half hidden, caught in a slow breath,

stuck between holding and letting go.

Strength is fragile,

and in the fall, there is both fracture and freedom.

What once was, will be again.

The bottle rises – then lands with a clink . Empty, for the third time. Green eyes settle onto her features – she can tell as it moves. Eyes. Cheeks. Eyes. Lips. A laugh flutters – his , then fingers wrap around her wrist, tugging on her without a word.

She’s whispered a grace – “You make me happy in a way no one else can,” and suddenly the world that cradled her spun her, and she slipped.

Feverish lips pave a way on her body – map his belongings, the edge of her jawline, curve of her lips, the way her eyelashes flutter open to see him , her heart burning to ashes. 

A push, and she’s against the wall, giving him what he wanted, like she always did – obedient like a dog, wordless like her tongue was cut. She feels loved – for she is an unloved thing, that only knows it exists when it is touched, it is owned, when it serves a purpose.

Bodies blur in the hazy lights of the bedroom – eyes that glimmered like gemstones in the sunlight stay away from her face, he consumes her, he whispers a plea, he desires, and she’s grateful.

I only know how to exist when I’m wanted.

It feels good – it always does,

Though this time, she wasn’t sure she could look him in the eye and tell the same.

For the following week, Kyoshi’s looking out. Though she had no business being there, she went to the library – empty. Followed up and walked to the gym – only found the basketball team. The cafeteria? Full of perfectly normal, average students. No topknots, no superior attitude detected anywhere.

It was terrifying, but she even walked over to the place she assumed the architecture majors were known to hang out – she’d heard this and that, but nothing plausible. It was like the world decided to swallow Rangi as a whole, Kyoshi couldn’t find her anywhere!

So then, there she was. Back to the regular program.

A quiet lull, and when Kyoshi glanced above her, the colors – purple-black, ominous and churning, swirled in almost slow-motion. The handbuilding section of the studio was strewn with half-formed bodies, clay curled mid-motion, paused gestures of human touch left abandoned with the promise of returning another day. Past the chalkboard, which now displayed a scrawled silhouette – a jug with wing-like handles, the glaze station glistened faintly under the wet tiles. 

The ventilation hummed low – almost swallowed by the storm that was brewing outside, a growl from above the warning. 

It was glassy and unreal – another long stare above and lightning strikes across the sky, lighting the studio before it fell back to the hushed tension it was in previously. A groan, and she sat down.

“It’s going to rain pretty heavily soon. Don’t stay too long on campus, babe. I’d offer to walk you home, but you know I’m busy tonight.”

Kyoshi sighed. She held the phone to her ears with her shoulder.

“I know, I know. I just – miss you. Whenever I do, working on these projects I can not sink enough hours into seem like the only thing that distracts me enough.”

He laughs. She does, too.

“You’re adorable. I trust you haven’t forgotten about our cinema plans tomorrow?”

Kyoshi scoffed, “You know I didn’t! I’m looking forward to eating nachos with you. Only,”

And she bit on her tongue. Only if you didn't forget that it is you who cancels our plans usually.

“ – please try not to tip it over on my clothes again.” She recovered, and they laughed about it together. It was perfectly fine. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered lightly – she was happy. Tomorrow was hers and Yun’s alone.

“I love you,” she says before hanging up, and he says it back. He always does. She had no real reasons to feel the way she did.

Another branch falls on top of the ceiling, and she shudders – the phone is set on the table to the side, and with a sigh, she’s back to what she was doing.

They told her – work on your details. After a discussion with her professor, that is all he would say too: now that the most stressful project is over, work on something small. Enjoy the fine arts of grasping a moment out of everyday existence, and then immortalize it.

Of course, Kyoshi had no idea that meant having to “play” around with air-dry clay, browsing her phone for hours on end for inspiration she liked. It wasn’t for a project – there was no deadline. No pressure. Thus, Kyoshi had very little motivation to actually do something with the clay itself. 

After such a lengthy project – so much thinking, so much sketching, structuring, molding, firing… she ran empty. But for now, she had nothing better to be doing. She could go home and what? Think about her future? There was nothing that could quite occupy her mind right now. No shows – no comics, not even fanfiction. Doomed. That’s what she was.

With a knife, she was painfully slowly cutting out shapes from the clay – a larger canvas, perhaps something that could be a frame. An amorph circle that if one tried really hard could look like a vase. Roses into the vase. A frame on the wall. 

It was like a child barged into here – nothing serious, nothing that would leave a lasting impression on anyone. Placing down the knife, Kyoshi stood up – if she started, she was going to at least color it. 

Two steps – is all she got in, before she was interrupted. Finally!

“Hey!,” she screamed towards the head that peeked in. “Wait wait!”

A couple of closer steps, and a very much unladylike wipe in her apron – then the picture clears for Kyoshi. It wasn’t Rangi – just her professor. 

“Do you need something before I leave? You shouldn’t stay long either, the storm’s going to be bad.”

Kyoshi deflated. She shook her head, the previous excitement lost. “Nothing, thank you. Have a nice weekend.”

“Kyoshi,” he sighed, “Don’t forget to take it easy. You can’t force creativity. The reason you dreamed of being an artist was because it was liberating. If you’re doing it out of necessity rather than enjoyment, doesn’t it lose its spark?”

And then, it was her turn to sigh. Solemnly, she nodded. Possibly understanding that there was no getting close to her interior now, he just wished his goodnight and took his leave.

She was so frustrated! But who could she talk to? Neither of her friends were told about this situation, and it’s been stretching out for so long it was driving her up the wall… In passing, she had mentioned some details to Yun – how she had this tendency to appear out of nothing, drop one-liner wisdom and then take her leave, but it only made him angry.

That’s partially the reason Kyoshi dared not to share with her friends – because if Yun had reacted the way he did, that meant he had his reasons to dislike Rangi.

“She’s the Headmistress’ personal hound, Kyoshi. Don’t you remember the things she said to us that night at the gallery? I told you, she is just jealous of you. You’re my beautiful girlfriend, and Rangi? She’s a loner. Ask anyone – if they dare to answer, they’ll say the same. And if they don’t, that is because she got students kicked out just because she didn’t like them. No one wants to be on her bad side.”

This is what Yun told her. At first, Kyoshi paid it no special mind – “Fine, so what if Yun hates her? It is normal for some people to not like each other. I have no reason to interact with her – as I didn’t before, I still don’t now.”

But then, Rangi kept turning up. She came to the library – and helped her. She came to the studio – and checked in on her… well, kind of. And the scenario at the cafeteria? That wasn’t a mistake, and neither was what she said. “He does that a lot, doesn’t he?”

As if she knew. What if she knew? 

And how did Rangi interpret her inner world with such punctuality that it left Kyoshi speechless? For a moment, the thoughts made her brain tired – then, hyper-alert mode switched on. She was being stalked! Of course! That’s how Rangi could be everywhere – she was following Kyoshi to…

To do what exactly?

Stalkers didn’t follow their prey to help them. They did so, so they could catch their prey off guard and feast on them.

No.

Kyoshi shook her head – no way it would be so easy for someone to corner her and…

“Hey.”

Faster than lightning, Kyoshi jolts a hundred and eighty degrees – the motion is too close to a desk that was firmly set into the ground, and in the process of her surprise, like the most clumsy tornado ever, she stumbles and falls.

With the unexpected company.

Kyoshi landed on her hands. On her knees. Slipped a bit, so it stung . Her eyes pop open as the panic settles – and eyes glare back at her. It is a sudden force – the way she is shoved off to the side, like a ragdoll. “Get off me!”

And boy, she does. Kyoshi sat up a couple of feet away from the incident, suddenly caring more about what she just did than her own bleeding palm. “Are you okay?”

The fall wasn’t kind on her. For a few moments, Rangi was looking – more so trying to – at her elbows, the faintest traces of blood visible. If anything, it more so looked like a burn-scar one gets when they slide on a surface too hard. On the edge of the concrete and the anti-slip mats, it was the perfect place to scratch herself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… expect you to be there.”

That’s when Kyoshi realized. “Hold on,” she hums, frantically crawling closer, “You’re here! Finally ! I was looking for you all week long.”

Kyoshi’s brain was speeding up. She didn’t process her surroundings – couldn’t read the room. “See I was just really confused, because when we first met you were really rude, but every single time afterwards you helped me and… I just wanted to ask you, why?”

Silence. She sat back onto her calves, even if it hurt.

Rangi was wearing gym clothes again. She smelled faintly of sweat and sandalwood. 

“You know, my boyfriend didn’t really like it when I told him that I saw you here and there. No matter how many times I told him we talked maybe two sentences – if lucky! He was just… unreasonably upset about it. I struggle to understand him,” Kyoshi quieted down, “Because you were nothing but kind to me.”

Rangi remained mostly expressionless. Grabbing her bag that fell on the ground, it looked like she was ready to leave. Kyoshi didn’t move.

“If you want to leave, you can… But please – this question kept gnawing my mind all week long. Give me an answer and let me rest.”

Then, Rangi sighed. She was glaring down at Kyoshi’s kneeling posture.

“Do not mistake my actions for kindness. I did what I objectively thought to be the correct decision at the moment. That day – during your exam, I felt nothing but pity for you. You looked like you were about to cry. Learn how to defend yourself, or don’t bother calling yourself an artist. Many would kill to be in your place – to be blessed with similar opportunities. You’re wasting it.”

Kyoshi thought it couldn’t get worse. Maybe Yun was right and truly misinterpreted Rangi. It wasn’t kindness – just pity.

It’s sinking in. A loud crash disturbs the serenity of the evening. The sky lights up – then, everything goes dark with a bang.

For a few moments, Kyoshi was still. The pain in her knees and palms were nothing compared to the emotional rollercoaster she was forced upon, unwillingly. One pull, two and three, and the door does not budge.

“The lightning must have struck the powerline. The doors locked automatically.”

Kyoshi’s been in one or two bad situations throughout her life. None of them could be compared to being struck with a top predator in a tiny glass cage. Normally? Kyoshi would already be freaking out… but now? It seemed like she skipped that phase and went into shut-down mode immediately.

“Are you just going to sit there miserably all night long, or will you call for help?”

Those words were meant to her. Right . She couldn’t just shut down – but she didn’t quite want to carry on, either. Standing up from the ground, Kyoshi stumbled over to her station – the half-dried clay project that laid bare on the table seemed to mock her as she picked her phone up.

She dialed the first number in the list.

Nothing.

Repeated it once. Twice. Enough times for her to slowly accept being stuck in here.

“He’s not picking up,” she hummed, sighing.

Rangi scoffed. “Then call someone else.”

With quite a bit of rage growing inside of her, she turned to Rangi, “Why don’t you call someone? People say one wrong word from you to your Mom, and people get expelled.”

Rangi didn’t seem to entertain the idea. She replied, “What your delirious boyfriend conjures up in his mind does not count as truth. As for me – my phone’s dead. The rest of my stuff is still in my locker.”

It was very hard to contain her anger – she wasn’t supposed to let anyone talk like that about Yun. “I told you once, but I don’t mind telling you another time. You don’t know anything about him. Or me.”

Rangi nodded, “And apparently, he doesn’t know anything about me.”

Kyoshi could argue. Yun talked quite a bit about Rangi and her reputation – but, somehow in person, Rangi was always different than how she was depicted. Although sharp and cold, even Kyoshi could tell she wasn’t telling her things in such a cruel way because it gave her twisted satisfaction. If anything, it seemed like Rangi was awfully bored of always having an upper hand on people.

“We’re going to be stuck for a while.”

So, there they were. Sitting on opposite sides of the table, under the flickering emergency lights and the occasional thunder. Kyoshi stared at her palms – it stopped bleeding, and she could mostly clean it as well with some water, but it still hurt. This would hinder her fine skills a lot.

Anytime her thoughts strayed, her eyes involuntarily moved up, sitting idly on her unwanted company. Not knowing anything better to pass the time with, she’d ask,

“Why does Yun hate you so much?”

And Rangi would keep her gaze fixated on whatever she was currently looking at, then coldly hum, “Because unlike many of you, I see him for who he is and not for what he shows.”

The cryptic answers make Kyoshi confused. She dared not to bring Rangi up anymore around Yun – so it wasn’t entirely foolish to try to get an idea from her, right?

“What did you come here for?”

Silence. One short glance, then a mutter, “To tell you to go home. The storm looked alarming – I thought something like this would happen.”

Kyoshi sighed. “You sure love acting like a saint for someone who claims not to be a savior.”

“How can you even call yourself an adult when you can only do something if someone else is holding your hand?”

Kyoshi looked away. “It looks like your hand wasn’t held enough, is that why you keep bringing it up? What’s so wrong with relying on the people that care for me?”

This time, Rangi truly stayed silent. How was this going to get better? Kyoshi was furious, and Rangi didn’t want to engage at all – not even in normal conversation, almost as if she wasn’t even aware how they were meant to be had.

Every now and then, Kyoshi checks her phone – there’s no reception, no matter how much she’d like for it to appear. There’s only the violent storm outside, and the canyon that stretched between her and Rangi.

She’s unsure how much time has passed before she talks again – enough for the tension to calm down into somber sentimentality. “You know,” she muttered, hunched over the table, her head laying on her arm.

Rangi sat still – as if she was a statue herself. 

“I didn’t even know if I’d be here for this semester.”

The wind howled. They didn’t look at each other.

Kyoshi stared at the door, head laid on her arm – her eyelashes fluttered closed. Whether Rangi would listen or not was not her business anymore.

“Back in August, everything came crashing down. My Dad got sick. Our car gave out. I couldn’t cover everything financially, so I worked two shifts during the week and a third on the weekends. Those days are blurred in my mind now – I barely managed to scrape everything together to cover the hospital bills, and without the car, commuting between where he lives and where I moved was expensive and time-consuming. Then one day, the university sent me this email – just a couple lines. ‘Your tuition balance is unpaid. Your enrollment is at risk.’”

Her voice quivered – Kyoshi never talked about this to anyone.

“I sat on the curb outside the financial office for three hours that day. Skipped work. I was just… frozen. People walked past me like I wasn’t even there. I couldn’t call my Dad. Couldn’t cry. I could barely breathe. It felt like everything was over.” 

For a long moment, Kyoshi stopped. Rangi didn’t rush her.

“I was about two days away from being dropped.”

Something rattled in her chest. She exhaled.

“And then, Yun called me.” It was evident with how her voice suddenly dropped and softened, that this memory was dear to her. “By that time, I had already given up. He didn’t ask how I was doing anymore – he just said, ‘I fixed it. Check your account when you can.’ ” 

A shift. It was audible that Kyoshi moved. “He paid for everything. The tuition. The late fines. All of my tools that you can see here – I can thank him for. When I asked why – because I couldn’t just find grace or acceptance within myself –, he laughed at me. Said he wasn’t going to let ‘the best sculptor he’s ever met’ be derailed by something as stupid as money.”

Kyoshi laughed now, too. It sounded hollow. 

“I told him I’d pay him back. I swore I would. He looked at me like I was… missing the point. He said, ’Make something beautiful, Kyoshi. That’s how you can pay me back.’ ” 

Though Kyoshi was looking at Rangi, the look was not returned. Tears glistened in her eyes – unknown to this stranger.

“I thought I loved him before that – we’ve been going out for a few months by then. But what he did for me, it solidified everything. You can call me a fool, you can judge me however you like. But he saw something in me I wasn’t even sure existed anymore – something I already let go of. Yun gave me  the chance to try.” 

Kyoshi’s voice trembled. She sniffed. Was she really crying over this?

“You think I’m blind. That I – ignore, whenever he does leave me hanging. It hurts me as much as it would hurt anyone, but you have to understand… the reason I know life how it is right now, is thanks to Yun. He made everything possible for me. Let it be foolish, if you can not describe my devotion any better – I would burn for him, if he asked.” 

The storm pressed its palms to the glass. And Rangi said nothing. Didn’t even move. 

Kyoshi’s ears are not used to her voice. Her words are quiet.

“You’re too much of a dreamer, Kyoshi.” 

Something in her stomach twisted. It felt like a warning.

“People like him,” Rangi continued, “They don’t change.” 

Staring out the window, Rangi’s silhouette is lit for a split second – lightning strikes, and then she’s back to darkness. 

“You don’t see it yet, but you will. He doesn’t deserve you.” 

It was uncomfortable for Kyoshi to listen to these. Yun – she was so thankful for everything he had done for her. What she said was true: without him, there would be no Kyoshi today. No one Rangi would be stuck here with. No one Kyoshi would feel conflicted over.

“You fiercely defended him when I called him out – yet when it was time to stand up for yourself, you stayed quiet. Do you understand why this is wrong?” 

It was the most gentle nudge Rangi had done so far. It wasn’t angry or spiteful. If anything, it just tossed Kyoshi down a ledge she was desperately clinging onto. No matter how she tries though – the fall is inevitable, and the question lingers in her mind. 

She couldn’t outrun it for much longer. 

The storm had finally passed, leaving only the faint whisper of rain brushing against the windows. After a while, Kyoshi stopped counting the minutes – to occupy her hands, she was playing with tiny bits of clay she couldn’t do anything with anymore, outside of rolling it between her fingertips. It wasn’t exactly elegant, how she sat – shoulders slouched, head bowed. 

Rangi paced up and down the studio for a while, before she settled down in front of her again, arms crossed. Anytime Kyoshi had dared to glance at her, the only thing she could think about was that Rangi looked tired. Her face may have been carved from stone, but the tension in her eyebrows betrayed her. 

A few more minutes, then, Kyoshi spoke up.

“Do you think we could ever be friends?” 

Rangi’s head tilted to the side – as if she was struggling to keep it upright. The question landed on her like unnecessary weight – she blinked once, twice, but outside of a slight shift in her position, she seemed the same.

“Why’d you want that?” she asked, her voice sharp, almost… defensive.

Kyoshi lifted her eyes – not quite enough to meet Rangi’s, but she was able to see her hands right now. “I’m tired of this. Of… whatever this is. I don’t want to keep fighting with you. I don’t want you to always leave without a word. I don’t want to hate you, even if that is what Yun wants.”

A low scoff. Sounds cruel. Wary. 

“I also don’t think that you hate me,” Kyoshi added, “It doesn’t have to be as hard as you think it is.” 

Rangi’s jaw clenched. She turned away slightly. “He would lose his mind.” 

Kyoshi’s smile faded. She didn’t argue. “Yeah. I know.” 

A long pause followed. Rangi glanced back, meeting Kyoshi’s gaze head on this time – she was searching for something. Perhaps she was questioning if she could trust someone like her. 

“How’d you want to tell him?” 

Kyoshi hummed. “I didn’t plan on telling him. I’m allowed to have friends, right? – I owe Yun, but I deserve my own personal space.” 

This was the first time Rangi had shown this emotion – her right eyebrow raised in curiosity, almost as if she wanted to hear the explanation of how that would work. 

“I have friends, just so you know. And no, he doesn’t keep count of them.”

Kyoshi’s mind did not waver. This is what she wanted – because as much as she tried to hate Rangi for Yun, she just couldn’t. She was never given a real reason to do so. 

“He could never know.”

“I know.”

“You’d have to keep it a secret.” 

”I know.”

Rangi sighed. Then, she nodded – reluctantly. “This does not mean you can cling onto me or cry to me about him to your heart’s content though.” 

Kyoshi’s eyes brightened – barely, and she dipped her head to hide it. Her smile was small, almost like the secret they nestled together now. ”Deal.”

Soft pitter-patter. Silence. 

Rangi’s gaze lingered on Kyoshi – now slumped over the table, her upper body draped over the surface like a hastily folded shirt. Her soft breathing was the only thing that broke the otherwise eerie stillness – and somehow finally, the world had slowed down.

At first, Rangi didn’t even notice that her posture unconsciously mirrored Kyoshi’s. Her chin comfortably sat on her crossed arms, as she sprawled out on the wooden surface as well, her eyes lazily scanning the figure in front of her. She doesn’t move – because she doesn’t know what stirs Kyoshi awake. 

Even as she slept, tension seemed to be running through her, unconsciously. Though her features were serene, her jaw seemed clenched – and she also was gripping into her own elbows as she hunched over. Rangi knew why she was so tense all the time – Kyoshi’s life had no time or space for error. She knew this all too well.

However, their drive was different. What felt like the end of the world to Kyoshi would only be a difficult lesson to Rangi – where she acted out of desperation to please, Rangi did so because this is what was always expected of her. There was nothing else she knew.

Somehow, her thoughts had grown more tender, the longer she watched.

Kyoshi’s lips parted slightly, an evident indicator of her exhaustion. Was she really looking for her all week long, like she said? Without her knowing, her eyebrows pulled together in confusion. That was stupid of her. But then again – Rangi was just as much a fool for appearing. She was actively paying the price.

It’s been a handful of months now that she tried to keep the girl in her gaze. Just in case, she would tell herself – yet that alarm did not stop her the night she walked up to the two of them. What she learned was going against all that she thought until then: Kyoshi had more of a backbone than she ever imagined. There weren’t many people out there who could muster up the courage to talk back to Rangi, and she thought that to be wiser too.

Only, Kyoshi was an idiot in every sense of the word.

A bright-eyed idiot – full of fire, full of hope. She’d caught Rangi’s attention without knowing and that was truly the worst case scenario. She knew Yun would imagine it was personal – her own vendetta for what she put her through years ago. But this time, it wasn’t about Yun at all. 

It was just Kyoshi.

The way she fell under his spell made her heavy feelings fester like an untreated wound – whatever she buried and stepped over resurfaced, and was twice as difficult to carry. She’d watched Yun reel in and then discard people many times over – and the realisation that Kyoshi could end up in the same situation was partially the reason why she decided to keep an eye on her in the first place.

Rangi wondered – was Kyoshi aware of how much she just gave herself away? Was she blind, or did she choose to look away?

She looked so vulnerable in her sleep. At last, her fingertips seemed to have relaxed – she was looking at the curve of her neck, the way the light-brown locks fell over her face. The rise of her feelings made Rangi quite uncomfortable – but she could never deny what her heart wanted.

Yes, she could stay silent about it. She could go years without showing a fraction of it. But she could not lie to herself – this is what she wanted from early on. To talk to her, even if she was terribly awkward. To watch her in motion – animated, idiotic. The way Kyoshi had cared for things – the way she poured every last drop of her soul into her art, into the people she loved, into Yun… 

She admired that. And in comparison, Rangi had felt small.

It must be nice to live without all of the walls that kept her safe and sound – to wear her heart on her sleeve, like an idiot. Even if she was exposed, betrayed and hurt, she probably couldn’t work in any other way. As weird as a thought it was – Rangi considered it charming. 

A quiet ache settled into her chest. It was like watching something fragile, something too beautiful to touch, too easy to break. 

Kyoshi’s breath became slower – deeper, her hair shifting to cover more of her face. Rangi’s feeling awfully warm – her skin burns to the touch, and she’s staring at her. The silence stretches, and she lets it.

At first, she finds it surprising when her phone lights up – and a myriad of notifications pop up. She can see them, because they keep stacking on top of each other. 

Messages, calls, messages. A name flashed on the screen for a moment before it disappeared – and thus, an involuntary sigh escaped her throat.

They had reception again. Which meant hopefully soon she’d be out of here.

It was a helpless feeling to be aware of Yun’s actions, but also knowing that no interference would make a real difference. If anything, it would shove Kyoshi further away – this was something she had to explore on her own. Now whether Rangi was in close proximity or not to… possibly see it, was a different question. She wouldn’t make it obvious, she had more self-control than that.

The phone’s glow casts a fleeting shadow across Kyoshi’s features. In a way, Rangi envied the peace she had, even if it was momentary. 

Still as ever, the figure across her was motionless. That’s what rooted down at the center of her thoughts – how could Rangi sit so still, without fidgeting, without barely moving at all?

A rare shift – Kyoshi’s vision blurred. The taut muscles on the girl’s upper arm flexed as she got comfortable sitting again, and Kyoshi was intrigued. What was it that she mentioned she was doing…?

Those were the last things she clearly recalled, before she gave in to a short nap. 

Something about the silence Rangi’s stillness brought must have cuddled her to sleep – because the moment Kyoshi stirred awake was when the heavy door clattered open and creaked, and the motion was followed by firm footsteps.

Her neck protested first when she moved – followed by her spine right after. It was almost like she was a dried autumn leaf, the cracking reminding her of the position she just rested in.

“Miss? You’re alright?”

A man’s voice called – unfamiliar. Kyoshi sat up, wiping her face in a rather unelegant manner with the back of her hand before her eyes shot across the studio and to the door.

The hallway beyond was glowing with the overhead lights. It seemed like inside the studio was still struggling – as the maintenance workers were waving around their heavy flashlights. One of them is inspecting the electric panel, not really minding whether Kyoshi had replied or not to the question.

“Locked shut,” the taller one murmured to the other, “We were lucky that someone flagged this as an issue. And you were lucky because the grid actually came back.”

Instinctively, Kyoshi turned towards Rangi –

Who was already halfway out the studio, her bag slung over her shoulder. As she always did – without looking back, or without saying anything really.

Kyoshi just sat there – dumbly. She didn’t know what she’d expected… A nod, maybe? A goodbye? No. Just some form of an acknowledgement…

Before she’s buried in her thoughts, the screen of her phone lights up again – thirteen missed calls is her new high-score. For a long moment, her thumb hovers over the offered option to call. Whatever she was about to hear would automatically diminish in comparison.

Then, grabbing her coat and her bag, she tapped call.

Chapter Text

Stiff.

Those were her only thoughts as the revving of the old car came to an eventual stop. One deep breath – Kyoshi glanced up, the familiar sight filling a part of her heart up she hasn’t been in touch with in a while now.

The old cottage – panels white, roof-tiles faded blue, window frames worn – was a sight for sore eyes. The majority of the building was covered by tall bushes – wild assortments of flowers growing eagerly, enjoying the last blinks of the late evening sun. 

As she got out of the car and slammed the door shut with more force than how she had when she first inherited the car, the gravel crunched underneath her boots. The early summer air was thick with the scent of the sun-warmed grass and the all too familiar scent of basil from the garden-beds that were neatly and regularly tended to. 

Cicadas sang – a song that faded to the back of her mind as the low murmur of the city, static and permanent, took over. The pattern of this song she’s memorized without ever intending to.

Grabbing two of her bags from the backseat, she grunts – it’s misplaced and over her hair so a quiet ouch bubbles from her throat, and before she could make the first few steps inside, the company who was arguably always the most excited to see her finally appeared.

Sprinting through the stretched garden, skipping over a rock here and some twigs there, the heavy bernese mountain dog likely smelled her from a mile away – though the sound of the car stopping was probably also a helpful indicator. 

Kyoshi lowered herself to one knee – she’s almost even tipped off her balance as she scratches her childhood pet, allowing it to nuzzle, whimper and almost stand on her back legs to give her a proper hug. Although older, this girl never seemed to run out of energy.

“Hey – hey now,” she laughed, holding onto the dog, eagerly petting her, “I get it, you missed me, I missed you too, Maloo.”

More laughter follows – the sun is warm on her exposed shoulders, the air is so clean, and she’s stared at like she is the center of the world.

Not only by Malika – unceremoniously known as Maloo and alternatives, but by him too.

Standing at the bottom of the crooked wooden steps, he takes it in a minute – his girls together again. Kyoshi’s heart jumps in her chest – before she knows it, she’s on her feet already, bolting for him.

Every step taken takes weight off her heart – nothing compared to the feeling of coming home. When the firm arms wrap her into an all engulfing embrace, she inhales deep, then exhales long. Nothing could ever replace her home.

His hands brush down her hair, starting from the head and all the way to her shoulder blades, repeating in motion. “Took you long enough,” he calls out, smiling. His voice wrapped around her like a blanket. “I was already getting worried. Wondered if traffic was bad on the highway.”

Kyoshi lifted her head, glancing up at him with a gleam. “I live five hours from here, Dad.”

It isn’t entirely apologetic when he returns the smile – he simply follows-up, “And you always drive like you’re being chased. I thought you’d be here an hour ago.”

A whimper comes from their feet, and Kyoshi allows one of her hands to drop, Maloo brushing her head against her palm.

“I had to stop,” she hummed, “Bought some peaches from the lady with the stall – the one you like. She gave me a few extra, said she was happy to see me back and told me to tell you she hopes you’re well.”

Kelsang smiled. In his irises even the sunset seemed nicer – when he spoke, his voice was quiet but steady. “I’ve never been better.”

The inside of the old cottage was the same as ever. A floral printed couch in the open living room, three bookshelves hugging, that same carpet she poured juice on a couple of times. Nothing inside changed – and that filled Kyoshi with a strange sense of serenity. Even though her world had picked up its pace and left her behind many times, her home with Kelsang in it was always going to be the same.

“I made your favorite,” he commented, walking further inside with a very eager puppy following behind him, “I thought you were going to be hungry so I made a lot.”

“Summer dumplings?” stars glimmered in her eyes as she picked her pace up, “No way!”

The chime of laughter hit her ears. “That, yes,” he glanced back above his shoulder, “and some tofu curry. We can make a peach-pie tomorrow.”

Kyoshi’s stomach growled in hunger – until now, she had no idea just how hungry she was. “You’re the best.”

Sitting down, she’s met with a feast – before she knows, her eyes are glazing across the hand folded dumplings, perfect in imperfection, carrying the shape of Kelsang’s thumbs, the wrappers delicate. Zucchini, corn, carrots, chives and the tiniest flakes of red chili boiled together made for the content of the pan-seared, crunchy dumplings. Water chestnuts, bean sprouts and a dipping sauce of soy, black vinegar and yuzu flicked with sesame seeds and scallion sat in three different pots.

In an earthenware bowl – one of Kyoshi’s earlier pieces, safekept by Kelsang – the tofu curry still steamed from freshness and warmth. Coconut milk, turmeric, roasted tomatoes  and plump cubes of tofu crisped to the edge of delicate chewiness awaited them. The sauce, made of eggplants, red bell pepper and thai basil was promptly covering the sticky jasmine rice. It was like being a child again.

Sliced into even circles and dipped into rice vinegar, honey and some salt, were prepared as a side of salad. It was a sweet-and-salty treat next to everything else, and as dessert, cubes of honeydew melons and cantaloupes awaited. Everything Kyoshi could ask for – and this time, didn’t even have to, was right in front of her. She sighed in deep happiness. 

“You shouldn’t have made so much food,” she hummed, grabbing the metal chopsticks from the prepared napkin. Kelsang brushed her head dearly from the side.

“Enjoy it,” he insisted, eyeing her for a long moment. “Without the guilt.”

Kelsang knew – he knew Kyoshi had the tendency to skip meals whenever she was overwhelmed with work. Looking down at her own hands, her skin evidently hugged the bone. He didn’t outright comment on his worries – but it was evident. Kyoshi agreed.

“Thank you. Let’s eat.”

From a glass pitcher, hibiscus tea with citrus slices and ice cubes, is poured into two individual glasses. When they meet with a clink, Kyoshi’s hands raise. The final rays of the setting sun glimmer through the beverage, deep ruby with amber at the edges. The scarce and minced sprigs of mint gave the tea a particularly cooling effect – she hums in approval. “So, who taught you this recipe?”

“There’s this lady,” Kelsang started, “She works at the library. A month or so ago, I helped her with an arrangement. She was very eager to put on a display for the local children and their parents to let them know about the upcoming open night. Having heard that I am quite handy,” Kyoshi could swear he gleamed for a moment, “She asked for my help. In exchange, she shared this special recipe – said her kids love it and mine will too.”

The ice floated around in the liquid, and closing his eyes, Kelsang recited:

“Add just enough honey to round the tartness, and the cardamom will whisper like a long lost, lingering memory on the tongue.”

Kyoshi scoffed – another eager gulp, and though the taste is pleasant, there are no memories whatsoever whispering on her tongue. “Sounds like a nice lady. Glad to hear you’re going out instead of holing up here like a hermit crab.”

Kelsang laid back in his chair, comfortably pressing his eyelids together. “I’m no hermit crab. Me and little Maloo? We go on walks every evening. I go visit the local market. I…”

A sole eyebrow of Kyoshi’s perked up. “What about your friends? ”

He rolled his shoulders lightly, attempting to mask the shrug as a motion for comfort. “Well they are still my friends. We just… Have different things going on in our lives. They have their kids, and I –”

When their eyes met, something squeezed Kyoshi’s heart tight. Right. It was always just her for Kelsang – no matter how old she was, she always enjoyed his utmost attention. Although it felt overbearing back then, only now did she truly realise the meaning of his actions. The glass sits back down onto the table, and moments later, she’s standing next to him, an arm already twirling around his shoulder as she bends.

“I’m sorry for leaving you here on your own, Dad.”

The firm hands grip onto her shoulder. He exhales a puff of air and the ends of her hair dance in front of his face. He laughs. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re living your life for yourself, not for me. You’ll always have me to come home to – and I’ll always wait for you.”

She hummed. Pressed the lightest kiss against his temple – just like how he used to when she was little. She knew she shouldn’t get too sentimental.

“Should we go on a walk?”

The third participant of the evening came bolting to the table upon hearing the word walk. Kyoshi snickered. 

“I’d like to, but I’m feeling really tired now. How about tomorrow morning?” 

Kelsang hummed. “Let’s go tomorrow morning then.”

At last, Kyoshi let go of him. “I’ll go upstairs – shower, call Yun and then sleep. Let me know if you need something.”

Kelsang softly squeezed her hand. That was all she needed.

A few drops of water, cool against the heat of her skin, and a breeze that floated in from the open window down the corridor. Kyoshi scratched her head with the fluffy towel, doing virtually nothing to further dry her hair – goosebumps rise on her skin, as for a long moment, she stands in front of the door with the familiar floral design. 

The silence of summer. 

The hum of life around her.

When the door creaked open, the same old room that nestled some of her dearest memories came into vision. The tilted roof of the house made it feel so much more unique – exposed beams crossed overhead, from which they used to hang hammocks from during the warmer seasons. 

The favorite part of her room – the window that was set into the sloped roof, a square pane that opens outwards like a hatch now allowed the first blinks of moonlight to spill into the room. Somehow her heart fluttered with ease. Although she had left her bags downstairs, now they were magically here, and she was grateful for the thoughtfulness of Kelsang. 

The old worktable sat along the longest wall – solid, wide, a little scratched and worn from years of use, with faint ghosts of old clay fingerprints haunting it's dull corners. Tools were neatly arranged in ceramic holders she had made herself as an experiment and a learning curve – rough and lopsided, but lovingly kept and fondly remembered. A small mirror with a cracked edge leaned against the wall above, dotted with stickers she never removed – little animals, old cartoon characters, one that faded with time, a dragon with big eyes.

Above the table hung a corkboard too, pinned to the edge with sketches, dried flower stems, folded notes from friends, wrinkled movie tickets she was insistent on keeping, photo strips – mostly candid, blurred, all of them bright with laughter and followed by a flood of memories. Beaded string charms ran from one corner to the other, looping slightly down in the middle. When a breeze stirred within the room, they clicked and clattered softly. 

Her eyes moved on to the bed – large, almost too large for one person. Kelsang insisted on this, reasoning that she needed space to stretch, especially given her midnight restlessness. She scoffed. The headboard was iron, painted burgundy, and had hooks where she used to hang necklaces and air-dry clay charms on cords. The quilt that covered the bed was an old patchwork quilt – frayed at the corners, heavy with something familiar. In this household, Kyoshi grew up with the mindset of Kelsang – anything they put their minds to could be handmade. This was one of those projects too.

Stepping closer, the squares were worn thinner than she remembered, and her hands dragged along the fabric. There was a square with green and golden cranes – that was one of her favorite shirts when she was younger. Of course, she was devastated when she grew out of it and it didn’t fit her shoulders anymore – and of course , Kelsang promised not to throw it out. He hadn’t. He simply sewed it into the quilt, allowing her to have it for as long as she wanted to.

She sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, exhaling without realizing she’s been holding her breath. The quiet of the room pressed in – it wasn’t heavy, but she definitely felt it. 

To the left of the bed, there was a wooden bookcase, overflowing in a signature chaotic way of people like Kyoshi – who read a lot but cared little for order. Titles leaned against each other, wedged sideways, stacked on top of each other. The top shelf held her favorite books – fantasy novels she’d read in middle school, poetry books with folded corners, a couple of journals with stained clay smudges on the edges. There were figurines and tiny sculptures among the books – some careful, some rough. A tiny sun with a comically grumpy face. A clay turtle she’d made in seventh grade – one of its legs had broken off years ago, and she wanted to fix it but never had. 

Taking a few steps in the direction of the bookcase, she picked up the turtle, turning it over in her palm, her lips twitching into a quiet smile despite herself. “Gods, this is ugly,” she whispered. The shell was lumpy. The glaze had bubbled and peeled on one side. Its eyes were uneven. 

But then she remembered how hard Kelsang laughed when she gave it to him – that he’d kept it with his favorite items for years. With that in mind, she set it back down carefully. 

The only things left in the room were an old armchair with a knitted throw that had seen better days. A small side table with mismatched mugs filled with pens, and an old coaster shaped like a lily pad. There were framed pieces besides the chair on the wall –  hand-stitched quotes from books she loved, done in rough embroidery on cloth scraps, nothing professional.

A narrow dresser with faded bronze handles, the surface of it oddly clean – it always used to catch so much dust, but now, it was nowhere to be seen. Kyoshi hummed. As she walked closer to it, there was an intricate jewelry box she was gifted when she was twelve. A framed photo of her and Kelsang huddled closed together, holding paper lanterns together, smiling. A wooden music box that missed its key. A ceramic bowl full of rings and other trinkets she had no heart to throw out.

No matter how many years went by – the air in the room smelled faintly of lavender and of clay, and underneath all of that, something awful familiar. Sun-soaked wood, old paper, the faintest traces of paint from when she’d tried to stencil stars on the ceiling as a teen, then gave up half-way through. 

Everything in here screamed that someone once lived here with their whole heart – and even if she’d left, the room was still breathing with her shape in mind. 

Back in bed, she leaned back, the wet towel on her head falling over the pillow. Slightly flat with embroidered slips – a joint project with Kelsang. Her stitches were crooked, uneven, barely legible. His were neat, precise. Unknowingly, her fingers ran along the thread once she pulled it from underneath her head.

Momentarily, her eyelids pressed together. When she opens them, they are cast towards the angled window above the bed – if she tried real hard, she knew she could see the stars as well. Somewhere in the distance, the wind shifted the trees, and the rustles she’d heard ran deep in her, slow like a lullaby.

Kyoshi knew for sure she wasn’t the girl anymore who strung the bead charms on the corkboard and pressed flowers into a journal. Though unsure of who she was right now – the traces of that girl lived within her at all times, and that finally dulled the ache in her chest just enough to allow her to exist. 

For a while, she just laid around. Typed up, then rewrote a short sentence over three times – then settled on, “I’m ready. Call me when you are too.” Before she’d put her phone down, screen against the sheets. Company shortly arrived, too – with a dramatic little whine first, then a jump, Malika ended up as her cuddle partner for the night. Her hair is half-dry when the phone finally buzzes, and her muscles jump to react to the call.

“There she is. Miss artist in exile. The petal poet. My sleepy forest girl.” 

The screen showed his face lit in a golden glow – pillowy hotel lightning, crisp white sheets, a bottle of sparkling water glinting behind him. His hair damp from the shower – voice carrying the same theatrical warmth he always used when he wanted to charm someone. She knew it all too well.

A smile blooms on her lips. “I was just about to fall asleep. You took your time.” 

“Nooo. I just got back up! Down by the pool, I’ve been drinking this ginger fizz – syrup with thyme and carbonated water. The bartender really tried to sell it to me, told me that it will “open my senses” – but I think he lied.” 

Kyoshi choked out a laugh. “That place sounds ridiculous.” 

Yun sat up suddenly – too quickly. “Ridiculous doesn’t begin to cover it. It’s a villa. They call it a villa , Kyoshi. There’s a plunge pool? This waiter-guy brought pomegranate seeds on a tray, and suddenly I feel like I’m a Persian prince. I could get used to this! You ever tasted passionfruit straight off the tree? I thought I had passionfruit before. I had not.” 

He flipped the camera to show the polished stone floors, gauzy curtains, and the massive, green courtyard beyond. “I think this bathtub possibly cost more than your Dad’s entire kitchen! No offense to the cozy domestic vibes you all prefer.” 

Ouch. Kyoshi laughed through it. “None taken.” 

“Rustic. Very artisan-core… Just not for me. I forgot to ask – did you make it there alright?” 

Visibly, she nodded. “Yeah, I got back alright. Kelsang prepared a feast – there was so much good food I almost fainted. Now I’m just here with Miss Maloo – who also almost trampled me when I first arrived out of excitement, trying to get to me.”

Yun leaned closer to the camera, trying to have a better look at the dog Kyoshi was showing. “Ugh, she loves you more than I do.”

With a teasing lull in her voice, Kyoshi hummed, “Likely. She listens when I talk.” 

A theatrical gasp – then, Yun grinned. 

“The honeysuckle is blooming. Everything smells so sweet here, and is somehow.. eerily quiet. I forgot what this silence felt like. It’s nice to sit back a little.” 

He stretches, voice more satisfied when he is done. “Actually, I think you need to get out more. Not all ‘noisy’ places are bad. This holiday? You’d probably love it here. Did I mention that the complimentary robe they gave is monogrammed? Monogrammed, Kyoshi.”

Her head fell back against the pillow. “You do love being spoiled.” 

“I deserve to be spoiled. I work very hard.” He leaned back against the headboard, smirking. “Don’t you want to be here though? Can’t you picture it? You, me, long evenings, ocean breeze, a little wine… There’s no one here who’d argue with me whether the Moon’s orange or gold. No cold feet sliding across the sheets to punish me for stealing the blanket. It’s so quiet without your voice nearby.” 

Warmth flooded in her. Kyoshi blushed – but the dim lights of the room did splendidly to cover up her flush.

“I’m not exactly one for expensive holidays, you know it too. Plus, you just miss upsetting me with your unreasonable arguments.” 

The look he is giving her – she knew exactly what it’d be followed up with, given they were together in person. “I miss the weight of you in my bed.”

The silence is warm. Not quite comforting.

“Is that shallow? Don’t tell me it’s shallow. I know you’re going to say it’s –”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

Yun grunted. “You ground me, Kyoshi. That’s what I meant – All of this,” he gestured vaguely at the resort beside him, “ – it’s unreal. You’re real. You remind me of who I am.”

She nods. It’s a flattering sentiment.

“You know, maybe I don’t need a villa, or to feel like a Persian prince. Maybe I just need you and – some tea that has gone cold, half-cooked arguments and…” 

He’s rambling. She hums. “I’m glad you’re thinking of me.”

He smiles. “I always do. There was this tiny boutique by the cliffs – I swear, their ceramics are straight out of a thesis exhibit! You’d die. I told the owner my girlfriend’s a sculptor, and she tried to get me to buy a four-hundred-euro vase. I said, ‘Why would I, when she could make me one better?’”

Kyoshi shifted slightly in bed. It all felt like evasion now.

“Speaking of – I just remembered. I’ve got news. Big news. You’re going to freak out.”

That made her stiffen. She tucked a curl behind her ear, humming okay. 

“I talked to Dorian.” 

Slowly blinking, she asked back, “Dorian?” 

“ The Dorian. Head curator? Tall, grim, always smells like sandalwood and expensive tobacco? Yeah – him. He wants us.”

“Us?”

“A joint piece. Fall exhibit – I pitched it as a contrast series. It’s splendid! My form, your chaos. Sculpture meets oil. It’ll be so clean. I already sent him a few mock-ups.” 

Her eyes widened. “You… already pitched it?” 

In return, he laughed. “Of course! Had to strike while he was in a good mood. Don’t worry, I used those photos of your studio work from the finals. He said he loved it.” 

She stared at him, trying to keep her voice steady. “Wow… I mean, that’s… that’s huge, Yun.” 

He seemed pleased. “I know. It’s our chance to really make something. Big gallery, downtown exposure… I’ll start the canvases when I get home from the vacation. I’m thinking, drip fragments? Ash layers? – And you, my love , can start shaping something that speaks back. I was thinking: you respond to me. You reflect.” 

The phrasing made her stomach churn. “Reflect…?” 

Oblivious to her momentary feelings, Yun reacts rather excitedly. “Yes! Like – your piece can sit beneath mine. My color will bleed down. Your form absorbs it. Synthesis and all. You’re so good at that subtle tension-stuff.”

Kyoshi nodded quietly. “Right.” 

The notion of smiling felt foreign. She could feel her pulse everywhere in her body.

“Yun – listen, I’ve got exams coming up. And… I just accepted a job offer again. I’m not sure I can give this all the time it deserves.”

As always, he brushed it off. “You always say  that, and then you pull something brilliant out of your hands like magic. You just need direction, and deadlines help you.”

Kyoshi sighed. “When’s the submission deadline?”

“Mid-August. But I want to get it to Dorian early July. That way, we can finesse the lightning – he’s trusting me with the spatial layout, so I’ll be handling the bigger picture. Don’t worry.”

Her gaze dropped down to Malika. She could hear Kelsang walking around. Softly, she replied.

“I’ll try to start sketching some forms this week.” 

“That’s my girl.”

His grin widened – untroubled, self-satisfied. Oblivious to the crack in her voice.

“God, I can already see it! You and me – gallery night. I’ll wear that blazer you’re so into, the grey one with the structured shoulders. You’ll wear something elegant and sculptural and not-extremely-colorful: something so unlike you. It’ll look devastating, positively.”

She barely replies. “Sounds like a dream.”

“It is. Trust me! Oh –”

Someone audibly yells in the background. From his relaxed position, he perks up – then, hums, “I’ve gotta go. We’ll talk about this in detail later, alright? I love you. Goodnight, Kyoshi.”

All she can muster up is a soft, tired goodnight, before the call is hung up. With her phone in hand, the arm flops onto the mattress, and she groans in pain.

She doesn’t move for a long time. Malika’s breathing slows down, turning steady, ready to ground her. What was she going to do?

The following day starts off the same as their weekends used to while she still lived home. She was making the coffee, he was buttering the toast. Catching up on local matters – sharing university stories. Casual. Calm. Kyoshi’s grateful. 

A jar of cardamom spills, and then they’re pulling everything off the shelves, wiping dusty tins, discovering expired canned peaches, reminiscing over handwritten labels and re-organizing the old pantry again. 

It’s followed by a visit to the local farmers’ market – just walking around aimlessly, buying things they don’t really need. Sketch pens. Herbs. Lemon pastry they eat together – the weather’s beautiful and this is what true peace looks like in her life.

Later on, they’re decluttering the shed – coming across forgotten projects, getting rid of the excess items they hoarded over the years. She even comes across an old rusty bell that used to hang on Malika’s collar when she was younger.

When afternoon finally settled, their joint decision was resting in the garden. Kelsang’s footsteps are not heavy by any means – but she’s always aware of him. Walking from one bush to the other with a heavy watering can, having dismissed her intention to help him with it.

Where there used to be lavender hedges and two rows of marigolds, delphiniums joined in. Snapdragons clashed in reds, oranges and whites, while a bouquet of cosmos huddled up against the back fence, the pink and fuchsia heads swaying in the lazy summer breeze. 

The tangle of honeysuckle she spotted from the kitchen window yesterday began to climb along the trellis near the back, the pale yellow trumpets attracting as many bees as one could imagine. Below the honeysuckle, according to Kyoshi’s questioning, foxgloves spotted the ground, their blooms bell-shaped and light blue in hue. 

Near the garden bench in the corner, lamb’s ear grew over the soft mounds – silvery, fuzzy, with a cluster of violas. Kyoshi rested under the plum tree, from where she could see almost every inch of the garden – her nostrils were invaded by the sickening sweet scent of peonies, playing in shades of creamy blush and bold burgundy, heads nodding in their own weight. 

She sat among it all – her sketchbook propped on her crossed knees, a soft graphite pencil balanced between her fingers. At her foot, Malika rested, tongue lolled and fur speckled with fallen petals and the faintest yellow trace of pollen from running around. The bench sat behind her – the grass was warm, springy and inviting, so it felt better for Kyoshi to be in the garden rather than to perch above it.

Already having filled a page and a half with quick studies – the folding depth of the foxglove in that particular color, the sharp thrust of the delphinium, and the ruffles of the peonies, Kyoshi was unsure how much time she’d spent outside. As the pencil moved, the focus of her eyes drifted beyond shapes and light – her perspective was a mirror image of how she felt to be there, and everything was amplified with beauty.

She caught herself smiling. She was supposed to study – run through her exam notes, prepare for what was ahead. But existing in the moment, sketching… It allowed her to just be for the moment. No pressure. Nothing about the future – just the garden and her. Her ankles and feet were dirty, the pencil left smudged spots on her knuckles, but she wasn’t worried about any of it. Glancing up, this would be a memory she would fondly remember and wish she could return to it.

So it shouldn’t be tainted. 

The shadows of the higher branches began to stretch out like the arms of a clock, reminding her of the fleeting moment. Her sketchbook was full – she flipped through them slowly, frowning. The details were there, precisely. The foxglove curled like parchment. The shadows creased underneath the peony’s petals. The light glimmered on top of the lamb’s ears. Her fingers traced the page, and an inevitable sigh surfaced – she ached.

“Why,” she mumbled to herself, “can I do it on paper, but not when I’m working with clay?” 

No matter how she tried, the sculptures never reflected these delicate things she so easily picked up on. The tension always felt heavier, less precise. She could imply the weight of a flower, yes – but never captured how it breathed. Its gentle lullaby. Her hands couldn’t pinpoint the stillness between the movements the way her pencil could.

The divide was always there – between what her eye saw and what her hand drew, especially what her sculptures couldn’t speak of.

From across the garden, she heard the low scrape of a trowel in soil. Kelsang was crouched near the lilacs, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, gently working compost into the roots. He moved slowly, methodically, like someone who’s done this a thousand times over. Malika perked up, lazily walking over to him.

She watched them. Kelsang gave her a light pat on the head, wordlessly, before going about his tending, every now and then glancing up at the clouds. 

The sketchbook closed with a thump. In mere moments, it laid beside her in the grass. “I won’t ever be able to sculpt this right,” she said aloud, more to herself than anyone else.

She wasn’t aware that her words found a target.

“You see it clearly. Maybe too clearly. That can get in the way.”

Kyoshi buried her face in her palm. “Isn’t clarity a good thing?” 

He wiped his hands on the hem of his old flannel as he replied, “Only when you’re not trying to force it too much. You’re overthinking it. You use different muscles to sculpt and to draw. Why not focus on that?”

She blinked at him in surprise – he was so simple about it. “You never sculpted really.”

“No,” he admitted, squatting to refill Malika’s water bowl from the hose in his hands, “But I fix and build things. Have you noticed the bird feeder out front? I had to scrap it four times. It still tilts slightly to the right when it rains.”

Kyoshi laughed. She picked a blade of grass and ran it between her fingers. 

“Stop trying to make the sculpture be the sketch. Let it be whatever it will be.”

She had to sit with it for a moment. Her eyes shifted to glance at him, and he was already smiling. No expectations – just his undivided attention.

“Okay.” 

Kelsang didn’t press it any further. He shortly returned to what he was working on prior, leaning into a bed of blooms. Kyoshi watched the curve of his shoulders and the ease of his movements. He never rushed a single thing, and rarely spoke unless he had something worth offering. Not to mention his words landed her exactly where she felt like she had to be.

She’d try again. 

An hour later, they were outside on the back steps, plates balanced on their knees, forks impaling the golden crust of the pastry. The sky had softened to rose and violet, grass gleaming and dark and wet from where he had watered the herbs and flowers.

The peach pie was perfect – its edges holding it firmly, fruit melting just slightly, the syrup pooling under the crust like honey. The crumble topping crisped and clung to the sugar, browned just enough to taste like a late summer evening when she was thirteen.

He exhaled through his nose. “Not bad.”

Kyoshi glanced sideways. “Not bad?” 

“Could’ve used more salt.”

She nudged his elbow with her own. “I asked you about the measurements. This is how much you said there should be in it.”

He smiled. “You like it when it is not as salty.”

A huff. They ate slowly, a kind of silence settled between them that was a sign of mutual ease. The bees hummed low in the lavender. Malika snored softly. Somewhere in the woods, a bird gave one long, thoughtful call, and then went quiet again.

Kyoshi tilted her face towards the faded sky, closing her eyes. “I need your advice on something.” 

When the slice was gone, they put their plates on top of each other and sat them behind their backs. It wasn’t a question whether he’d listen or not. 

“I had a chat with Yun yesterday before I slept.”

Without looking at her, Kelsang hummed. “Mmh. He called from that fancy holiday?”

“Yeah. He talked about – a lot of things. Private terrace… Monogrammed bathrobes.”

“Sounds like torture.”

He sounded mildly amused.

“He’d agree… but not for the reasons you think. He considered the villa’s wine list too predictable and that’s what made it tortuous.”

There’s no reaction – Kyoshi knows what he’s thinking already. 

“So what did he want?” 

“He said he pitched a joint piece. For us. In another gallery exhibit.”

Kelsang glanced at him, a soft surprise in his eyes. “You and him? Together? It won’t be like the last time, right?”

Kyoshi scowled – her eyes shifting aside. “Yeah. His painting, and my sculpture. Downtown fancy folk, not quite my type of a crowd to be honest.”

“What’d you say?” 

She shrugged. Her eyes followed the steps of a tiny bird on the darkened treetops.

“I couldn’t really say anything. He’s already told the curator it’s happening.”

Kelsang hummed gently. Kyoshi was still trying to process it as well.

“I should be excited, right?”

She can not muster up enough courage to look at him.

“Well… are you?” 

Her hands twisted around each other in her lap. She opened her mouth to reply, but her words fell short on her. 

“I don’t know. I mean, it’s an opportunity. The kind I probably won’t get again for a long time – But…”

She stops. Her voice is quieter. “It doesn’t feel like mine.”

“Does it feel like it’s happening to you, and not with you involved?”

It is only a fraction of a motion, but Kyoshi nods. “He didn’t even run it by me – just assumed I’d be okay with it, while knowing how busy the upcoming period is for me. I’m not even sure what I’d make. I’m sketching all the time, and graphite is fine. But when I sit down with clay, my hands forget. I haven’t made anything since that final – months ago now.” 

Kelsang watched her for a long moment. He doesn’t say anything wise or grand, just leans over to grab her hand before she makes herself accidentally bleed.

“You don’t have to decide tonight.” 

A long exhale. “He also said he misses me. Sort of.” 

That earns a look.

“Said the villa feels too big without me in it. The silence apparently makes him feel ‘unmoored.’ That’s the word he used.”

“Must be hard.” 

Kyoshi laughed. “Yeah.”

When it dies down, she continues. “I think he misses what I do for him more than who I am.”

Kelsang looked at her. His expression was open, calm, and entirely hers. 

“I don’t want to let the opportunity pass me by. Or him. I don’t want to seem ungrateful – I get to do what I love because of him.”

He squeezed her hands. “You can be grateful and still uncertain. You can be loved and still feel alone. You can have a choice, even if it feels like you don’t.”

She bites down on her lower lip. “You think I should say no?” 

Gently, he pulls her closer. “I think you should listen to yourself. Your real self. The one that lives under all the noise. ”

The tall grass of the garden sighs. Kyoshi groans. “You always know something I don’t.”

Kelsang presses a light kiss at her temple, smiling with a hum. “Of course. I’m your old man, after all.” 

The first stars show up soon. Though conflicted, she’s grateful.

The upcoming five days are a rough repeat of the same things. It’s so easy to fall back into this old routine – exhaust herself physically so there’s no real time to be concerned about other things outside of her reach. No thinking. When she was younger, she would have never offered to weed the garden by herself – and with the intensity she went at it with this time, Kelsang might not let her the next time.

The world comes back into focus with a low mechanic whirl. It’s the ceiling fan doing its best to keep the room cold. That’s not the reason for her rude awakening – but the neverending flood of text messages that is making the bed vibrate. 

Grabbing onto it, she unlocks the phone half asleep, reading the group chat groggily.

Kirima:

kyoshi

we’ve let u be broody and mysterious for like

2 weeks now

it’s time to rejoin society babe

Jinpa:

@Kyoshi

We’re worried. Your last three texts were: “ok,” “yeah,” and “sorry.” 

You’ve entered ghost mode. Are you alright?

Lek:

it’s like she’s haunting the group chat but only on a part-time basis

kyoshi you’re a freelance specter

i can see that you’re reading these messages

reply

Jinpa:

We don’t want to bug you, but it’s starting to feel like you’re vanishing on purpose.

Wong:

You didn’t even open the memes I sent you. You’re not here.

Kirima:

hello? kyoshi?

Kyoshi:

I’m here. I’ve just been busy guys.

Lek:

liar

you’re terrible at lying kyoshi 

Kyoshi: 

I’m not lying. I’ll have you know, I have been very busy.

Wong:

Okay. What were you up to?

Kirima:

rotting in the dark room of ur dorm isn’t being busy

we passed by yesterday

all the curtains were pulled shut

u need to get out.

Jinpa:

We just want to see you Kyoshi. You don’t have to put on a mask around us.

Have you been eating enough? 

Kyoshi: 

Did I not tell you guys that I’d be home for the week at my Dad’s? 

Lek:

………………….

you conveniently left that part out

and it doesn’t explain why you turned into a ghost

Wong:

That actually explains a lot.

Jinpa:

See guys? I told you it wasn’t as bad as you thought.

Kirima: 

u literally rallied us, telling us she must be dead

all bc she didn’t reply to your reels

Kyoshi:

You thought I was dead? 

Jinpa:

Irrelevant. We were getting worried together.

Lek:

did you go home because of yun

did he say something wrong

you usually don’t just leave without a warning

if he did say smth, i’m gonna find him and push him into a recycling bin

Kyoshi:

It’s not his fault. I just needed a break from everything before getting back into my usual routine.

Kirima:

ur allowed to feel down kyoshi

i’m just glad you’re not punishing yourself with isolation anddd

whatever those microwave noodles you eat 

Wong:

We’ve been planning a visit at this gourmet grilled cheese festival. 

You coming?

Kirima:

5 pm sunday. we pick u up. 

you don’t have a choice

come back to us

we miss u 

Lek:

this year i won’t drop my corn dog into a storm drain

lmao

do you guys remember that guy dressed as a hot dog from last year

kirima you made us all pose with him for a pic

where’s that pic again

Wong:

[one image attached]

Lek: 

yessss this!! lmaoo what a goofy guy

Jinpa:

@Kyoshi, are you coming then? 

Kirima:

u can sulk in silence if u want to. we’ll narrate u like a nature documentary

Kyoshi:

I planned to go back next Monday. 

But I guess I could go back a day earlier. 

I’ll have to tell Dad about it.

Lek:

i’m literally gonna cry

it’s happening

she said yes

Kirima:

wonderful

see u at 5 

love u, tall sculpture queen

don’t get too depressed

n take care on the road

Kyoshi:

Love you all too. Ttyl.

As much as she would have loved to, she already stayed in bed too long. At least she was awake now.

Kyoshi came down the stairs barefoot, her jumper tugged over one shoulder, braid loose and swaying against her back. The air smelled like fading breakfast – toasted bread, eggs that probably have gone cold, and something sweet. 

Rounding into the kitchen with a kind of hush-wrapped urgency, her voice got caught in her throat before she even called his name. Despite her rush, he was sitting there.

At the table, half-turned towards the window, one hand around the ear of his mug and the other holding a mechanical pen. A crossword magazine was open in front of him, and Malika snored at his feet.

“Oh good – you’re still here.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Where else would I be?”

Quickly crossing over to the counter, she poured herself a mug from the still-warm pot. No milk, two sugars. Familiar, easy. Her fingers moved without thinking. “I thought maybe you’d gone out… I don’t know. I just woke up and everything felt late.”

He laughed – amused. “You don’t have to apologize for sleeping. The world spins fine without your supervision for a few hours.”

“Mmh. Still feels weird. My spine thinks it’s noon already.”

Taking a long sip, she winced, sitting down from across him, tucking one feet up under her.

They sat in quiet for a while. Kelsang picked up his pencil again – she watched the stitches on his sweater, and the slump of his shoulders. The house stilled with his presence, and so did her world.

“I might go back to the city Sunday morning. A day early.”

He looked up. Didn’t frown, but his expression shifted slightly. “Yun?”

She shook her head. “No – it’s this… grilled cheese thing. My friends kind of ganged up on me. With memes. Called me a ghost. They were worried I was too quiet. Again.”

She rubbed her temple – this notion was equally annoying as it made her feel touched and sentimental. 

“They sound like a fine group of friends to have.”

Kyoshi smiled. He was right. She was very lucky to have them. He set his pencil down.

“You should go with them. Don’t forget to put on plenty of sunscreen so you don’t burn up.”

She scoffed. There was quiet fondness glimmering in her eyes. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all. I’m happy for the week you spent with me – every day is a blessing. Of course,” he sighed, “It’ll be much more quiet around here without you, but that’s okay. Me and Malika will wait for you to come back. Anytime that will be.”

He always managed to make Kyoshi feel mushy and soft. To cover up said softness – and to overcome the urge to cry, she reached across the table and stole a piece of toast from his plate, laughing it off.

Sunday morning was a cloudy one. The mist of the morning crept around the hedges and bushes, dissolving sleepily. Inside the house, almost everything was ready for her departure: bags by the door, shoes neatly lined up with them. The silence stretched between them.

When she trotted downstairs, Kelsang was in the motion of pouring hot tea into a traveling thermos – black leaves and the trace of citrus in the air. Malika padded behind her, butting her head into Kyoshi’s thigh.

“I’ve packed up everything.”

He screwed the lid of the thermos on firmly. “Wallet? Charger? Sketchbooks?”

“All checked.”

“Good. I packed you some pie. And jam – the one you like. Some herbs so cooking will be something you dread less and anticipate more.”

Kyoshi hummed in approval. “You’re the best.”

“You make it easy to be.”

For a moment, they just look at each other – then Kyoshi steps into the hug he opened his arms for, the embrace slow and all engulfing. Though it was harder to maneuver than when she was young, he still managed to kiss the top of her head. “I’ve gotten used to your presence. I’ll miss the sneaky footsteps.”

Kyoshi gasped softly. “You were aware?” 

Once or twice she may have snuck downstairs to the kitchen for a snack. She had no idea he knew. Kelsang’s laugh was hearty and warm. “I’m just glad you’re eating. There’s plenty to go around.”

“That’s not the reason – I just didn’t want to wake you up!”

A flush. He tucks the stray lock of hair behind her ear, and it falls out again. “I believe you. Regardless, what I said is still true.”

Once outside, the gravel crunched under their feet, almost equally as sad as they were. The backseats of the car were filled with many more things than she came with – bags full of stuff she could just take because there was no saying no to Kelsang. 

The air was cool and damp for a summer morning – and driving in this weather will be just as annoying. 

Kneeling down to Malika, she leaned her entire weight into Kyoshi’s hands. She scratched behind the ears until her eyes half-lidded. “She’s not the stoic type.”

That was Kelsang’s voice. “A mountain of feeling,” she replied softly, kissing her head with an exaggerated mwah. 

“Text me when you arrive. And later too – when you get back from the festival.”

“Always,” she hummed, standing up. A whine comes from below, and Kelsang crosses his arms firmly in front of his chest. “But you can call me too, whenever the house gets too quiet.”

He shakes it off quickly. “If I hear your voice so often, I might just start nagging you about the same old things. I don’t want to be too overbearing.”

Of course she was aware of that much. “Don’t worry about things like that. I appreciate it, Dad.”

Climbing into the car after a final, almost stolen glance at the grand house, Kyoshi rolled the windows down, unbuttoning the top two buttons of her sweater. She reached a hand for him – and he gave it.

“Talk soon.”

Kelsang nodded. “Drive safe. No speeding.”

She chuckled. “Got it.” 

Saying goodbye was never going to get easier. Leaving in the first place made Kyoshi feel exposed to the world – but it contributed to her growth greatly. A thousand times over, she considered giving it all up and coming back here – they could live a comfortable life together and she’d need nothing else. But how her life was now – she loved that so much too. 

Pulling out of the driveway accompanied by a mechanic whir, as always, Kelsang crouching, lightly holding onto the collar of Malika – making sure she doesn’t run off. The soft wave, ever persistent, is there as well – as always. He does that until the car disappears behind a line of trees – and Kyoshi’s on her own again.

The upcoming three hours are spent in eerie silence. The road is wide and looming ahead of her – she switched on the radio, but the morning DJ’s voice announcing the playlist of classic hits was nothing more than a blur. The same way the countryside faded out as well.

Then –

Many hours later, just a little before noon, her phone buzzed.

A video call. Yun.

This is the first time Kyoshi hesitates – with a churn in her stomach, somewhat reluctantly, she accepts the call though. The phone rested in a tight-grip phone stand, and she rotated it so it would face her.

“There she is! Good morning, Kyoshi.”

His face popped into view – she can not look much, but she makes out the sun-kissed skin, the pushed back hair and the overwhelming blue of the sea. She smiles.

“Good morning,” she breathes, “I’m on the road so I can’t look much. Are you okay? You look like you’ve got a five-star tan this week.”

“It’s a villa tan. But you’re technically correct. Also, I just wanted to see you – your eyes are a little red. Where are you headed?”

“Just – heading home right now,” she said, unsure of how much she should share. “The others really wanted to see me so I thought I could come back a day early. I’ll start working on Tuesday so –”

“Oh, that’s great! My parents and I are leaving tomorrow morning. They bought out half of Florence – wine, sculptures, this obscene baroque mirror they think will look antique in the foyer… it’s insane, but also somehow charming.”

Softly, she cleared her throat. “So you’re back tomorrow?”

“Mhm. Flight gets in just past noon. I figured we could do something together afterwards? Nothing huge… Just you and me. You know.”

She didn’t answer right away.

“You’ve been with your Dad all week long – being isolated from the world, the quietness out there, it gets under your skin, Kyoshi. I want you back here – where I am. You steady me.”

This again. She glanced out the window.

“There’s something about you that just… slows everything down, in the best way possible. You look at the world like it’s always whispering something important to you, and you’re the only one who is patient enough to listen.”

She really did not want to cry on the highway.

“I know I drive you crazy sometimes – we’ve been through it. But I also know that you’re the only one who sees the real me, and you stay.”

That hangs in the air for a moment.

“My parents – they wanted to make sure this trip was about true elevation. Do you remember Eliora? She curated a show last spring that we went to see, one of our first dates together. I introduced her to you in February at the art exhibit. She’s here with us. Currently she’s sketching for her new series – it’s very straightforward, very bold.. Of course, I told her about your detail work. That your sketches are as good as heartfelt confessions.”

First, her heart sunk. Then, she raised an eyebrow. Yun was on holiday – with someone else?

“Don’t worry. I didn’t sell you short! Told her you’re the most emotionally rich artist I know. Then she tried to say I am just using an euphemism for “messy”, but I quickly corrected her. There’s depth, and there’s you.”

For a while now, conversing with Yun felt like this. Listening to a one-sided word vomit. She hummed. “Nice save.”

“Hey! I mean it. She’s sharp, efficient… works for actual critics. It’s boring. You make pieces that haunt people. I’ve never seen anything from her that made me ache as much as yours do.”

The car grew quieter. Kyoshi was barely present.

“When I’m back, wouldn’t it be cool to sketch together? We could work on the joint piece. Or – we don’t even have to do anything. Just lay in bed together.” 

Promptly, she nods. “That sounds nice. I do miss you too. It’s been a while.”

“I’ll even bring those dark cherries you like – and the weird European sodas you made fun of last time. It’ll be fun.”

This time, her smile was more genuine.

The next time Yun spoke, his tone was warm. Sickly sweet.

“You’re it for me, Kyoshi. No one else has what you have – the quiet brilliance. You make everything around you so lively. It’s like… You’re the gallery I want to live in.”

She flushed. Turned her head away a little so it wouldn’t be so obvious.

“I’ll take you on a proper date next week. Send me your schedule. We could go out and eat. Or cook together. Whatever’s fine – I just want to be near you.”

Softly, she gave in. “Sure. I’m down.”

Yun grinned – it was a truly victorious smile. His boyish innocence was a part of his charm, and she was helplessly enamored by it. They share a long goodbye – and after hanging up, his face lingers behind her eyes. Beautiful. Golden. Impossibly heavy.

At 5 PM sharp, Kyoshi was standing outside the dormitory’s building.

She got back an hour ago – got her door handle unstuck, showered to freshen up, changed clothes and dug up her digital camera. She wore a forest green long skirt with a white graphic t-shirt that hugged her skin – her hair loosely braided, glimmering in the afternoon light.

Knowing her friends, delays wouldn’t be anything short of a surprise – but given how serious they were about this meeting, she thought they’d be here, ready to pull her out if they had to.

She’s considering a text. 

That is until the slamming of sneakers against the asphalt becomes audible, and moments later, it is accompanied by a yell.

“KYOSHIIIIIIII!”

There is barely enough time for her to turn before a whirlwind dressed in all black launches across the street, dodging a honking biker and a city bus.

“No – don’t you dare!”

Too late.

Lek slammed into her full-force, arms wrapping around her waist with the finesse of an overgrown toddler. It was a move almost to tackle her – an oof escapes Kyoshi as she stumbles a couple of steps back, her camera knocked into her ribs and her bag hanging onto its dear life on her shoulders. 

“I swear–” 

He buried his sweaty, grinning face into her shoulder like they haven’t met in at least a decade. A grunt sounds as he attempts to lift her off the ground in the most inconvenient display of platonic affection imaginable – and fails miserably. 

“You’re real!” he shouted, ignoring her struggle of almost suffocating. “And you’re looking way less depressed than I thought you would!”

He hung off her like a gremlin-shaped backpack, refusing to let go. Kyoshi sighed, shoving at his face. “Get off me,” but her attempt was futile and barely serious. She laughed.

“You missed me.”

Another shove. “You’re hallucinating.”

A shout from across the street interrupted them.

“We told you not to run ahead, idiot!” Kirima’s voice sounded, sharp and easy.

Wong and Jinpa followed in her wake – the two of them with their usual slow stride, the latter waving enthusiastically. Finally catching up to them, Kirima’s slightly out of breath due to a short jog – she flicks Lek hard on the back of the head, “You absolute menace, you could have been flattened. Again.”

“Owch – hey! You underestimate my agility.” Lek retorted proudly, rubbing the spot where she hit him.

“If anything, you are just emotionally starved. Especially of Kyoshi.” Wong added, reaching out to Kyoshi. “Welcome back.”

She brushed her braid back, composing herself. “Hey.”

Jinpa leaned in  to offer a one-armed hug. “We missed you! You look great, all smoothed out. The countryside must have done you real good, before you left you were drowning in your ultra-specific artistic despair.” 

Kirima grinned. “No one else makes us question our life’s purpose quite like you.”

Kyoshi felt her cheeks growing warmer. It was followed by a roll of her eyes. “You’re all so dramatic about it. I’m usually not even that bad!” 

“Knowing you, if you fell in your Dad’s garden, you would have just stayed there and turned into moss. We’re not being dramatic,” Lek mumbled, glancing up at her. “You’re just stupid.” 

So much for the love. 

“Did you get sunburnt? I’m telling you,” he continued, “That’s what happens when you live among gentle old men who bake pies and attend community evenings instead of suffering with us in the heat death of the city.”

Another hit on the head by Kirima. “Stop it. You’re just mad your air conditioning broke, but you don’t have to take it out on her.”

Jinpa laughed. “Ignore them.” 

Wong eyed her for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. “You brought your camera.” 

With a notion, she held it up. “I barely found it. I thought it would be nice to save some memories for next year.” 

Kirima clapped her hands. “Let’s go. The sun won’t be out for too long anymore, and I need an iced matcha before I turn violent.” 

Lek threw an arm around Kyoshi’s shoulder – barely – and started dragging her forward. “Let’s goooo!”

“Are you seriously going to hang off me all evening long?” 

He grinned. “Until you admit you missed me!” 

“The only thing I miss is the silence I was in two minutes ago.” 

“Do you hate me, Kyoshi?”

A sigh. “You’re a health hazard. Unhand me! – Hey! Ouch!”

They walked on, bickering like always – the city heat rose, the streets hummed with life, and despite it all, Kyoshi felt… easier. 

Walking down the main boulevard towards downtown, they trudged through the heat shimmer – with a dozen of eyes at the very least pinned to them.

It wasn’t because they were representing the stereotype of art students who dress like it’s the end of the world – but it’s a lifestyle and not just fashion , no. Kyoshi and Lek were wearing matching handmade animal hats, hers a frog and his a raccoon. 

“I cannot believe I let you talk me into this,” she muttered, trying desperately to adjust the floppy green legs dangling beside her cheeks.

Lek was her true contrast – grinning like he had just committed the perfect crime and got away with it. His raccoon hat was proudly crooked – it sat atop his head like a crown. “You say that, like you weren’t the one who picked the yarn color – a year ago! This is tradition, Kyoshi!”

“You literally guilt-tripped me! ‘If we don’t match, what’s the point of life, Kyoshi?’ That’s what you sounded like!” 

She did her best to imitate him, but it wasn’t really good. He burst out laughing. 

“We’re iconic! Just imagine the bad jokes we could make. A frog and a raccoon walk into a cheese festival…”

“Don’t finish that joke.”

“I don’t need to, Kyoshi. Punchlines are for losers! My presence is enough.” 

She let out a soft, half-laugh despite herself, hiding it behind a swipe at her hair, which had mostly escaped her loose braid in the heat. She’d hoped to blend into the background a bit today – she was exhausted from driving around, as well as the emotional toll her recent conversations have taken on her.

The others walked behind them – a good couple of feet. “You’re both like, walking Tumblr posts from 2011. It’s embarrassing.”

Wong said nothing – he simply slid his sunglasses lower on his nose, offering a look that was mostly disapproval, and the slightest hint of morbid curiosity as to what came next.

“See I told you – we look ridiculous,” Kyoshi lowered her voice, her cheeks tinged pink. “We need to take it off.”

“It’s us Kyoshi. When was the last time we matched on purpose? Do you remember?” 

She gave him a slow blink. 

“You make a great frog – just make sure you don’t croak.” 

He nudged her once. Twice. The third time, she nudged him back, almost tipping him over. “Shut up.”

Ahead of them, the scent of butter and melting cheese slowly started to linger in the air. A low growl indicated that she was starving – and apparently, it was audible to her chaos twin as well. Hooking his arm into hers, they picked up their pace.

“Kyoshi – come on!”

The wild raccoon turned back to wave at her, its ears bobbing madly. “Apparently this has four types of cheese and a basil drizzle.” 

By the time she got there, he was already at the counter – eagerly counting on his fingers.

“I want the one with smoked mozzarella, gouda, aged cheddar and blue ,” he told the teen at the register, chewing his gum. “Extra drizzle. Extra pickles. No mercy.” 

Kyoshi raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to regret that blue cheese halfway through.”

“Maybe,” he grinned, “but that’s future me’s problem, and I hate him anyways.”

She glanced over the hand-chalked menu. Everything was indulgent to the point of absurdity, and it made her stomach churn uncomfortably. “What’ll you have?” he nudged, and she bit the inside of her cheek.

“The rye bread with crispy sweet onions and melted gruyere. I’d like the smallest possible dosage of kale and mustard seeds.”

Almost as if he was contemplating her decision, Lek nodded, rubbing his chin. “Very sophisticated, Frog.”

She scoffed. 

The teen at the counter snorted. “Do you want the kale to be crispy too?” 

“I want it to be a vegetable, not charred and deep oil-fried.”

After paying, they shuffled over to the pickup window. The others were hovering near a table that was way too small for the five of them, but in a crowd like what gathered over there, they were lucky to have as much. Kirima had already claimed the shadiest spot, sipping her matcha, shrugging the idea of eating for now. Jinpa had settled with a cup of cucumber lemonade – strangely fitting for him, moreover, Kyoshi wondered just where he managed to get one of those in the deep-fried hell this festival was. From what she could see, Wong was elaborating something to the two of them, but they seemed to be more busy with the insane heat than any conversational topics.

Lek’s monstrous sandwich is the first one they hand over – she’s surprised he’s not drooling on the spot, sniffing the air eagerly. “I’m so going to regret this.”

“You’re insane,” Kyoshi mumbled quietly, already knowing that they’ll have to swing by a pharmacy later. 

Her sandwich was next – layers of cheese glistening between rye slices fried golden at the edges, the crispy onion evenly distributed on top of everything. When she grabs it, it burns at her fingers for a moment – it was too hot. This would kill her. 

Lek raised his sandwich like a toast – “To melting our organs with dairy and hopefully living to tell the tale, Kyoshi!”

Shaking her head, Kyoshi stifled a laugh. Then, she slowly bumped her sandwich against his.

Pop-up tents, colorful banners, neon lights and a sea of people. Overstimulation from every angle left Kyoshi mildly paralyzed – the fog of grilled bread and sizzling cheese sticking to her skin like a puff of perfume. It was disgusting. Music lilted from overhead speakers – terrible funk and pop tracks that made her head ache. 

The crowd was an organism on its own. Slow-moving, sunburnt, consuming everything and everyone in its path. She spotted heart-shaped sunglasses and other questionable choices, like linen pants rolled up the scalf, mismatched hats and atrocious tie-dyes. 

Children screamed, dogs barked, the wood was warm underneath her legs and breathing was harder and harder with every second passing by. Though this plan to hang out seemed promising in the beginning, it started to turn really taxing with the overwhelming sensations ruthlessly attacking her from every angle possible.

As far as she could tell, Lek still had plenty of his energy – he was retelling the story of how the microwave at his dormitory caught on fire once, his arms flailing wildly with the story. Only if she had an ounce of his energy… 

Kirima leaned back in her seat, taking candid photos of her sandwich to upload to her June dump probably – Jinpa laughed, and Wong side-eyed the crowd. 

It was great to be with them, but she really would have loved to be alone now.

Perhaps now was the time to go around and take a few shots, see if there was something she liked and would make good memories. She already had a couple of great pictures for the memory album on her laptop, mostly of Lek devouring his sandwich and some of the trio sitting across them, huddled close together and glistening. They were quite photographic – Kyoshi wasn’t a professional by any means, but her hands really seemed to understand the assignment when it came to angles. 

“Kyoshi.”

But what should she take pictures of? The crowd wasn’t interesting. Maybe there was a cute dog somewhere? Some trash art? People in the distance who, by glance, evoked familiar feelings in her chest? She could take shots of everything, so long the battery stayed alive. Most of it would be dumped anyway. It always was.

“Hello?”

A drink wouldn’t hurt either. Something with ice. A lot of ice.

“You’re spacing out.”

A finger sinks into her upper arm, making her jump. A painful little yelp follows, then she glares at the offender. “Hey!”

“Not my fault you weren’t paying attention,” Lek said with a shrug, glancing up at her. “Were you thinking about your booooyfriend?”

For the umpteenth time that day, her eyes rolled. “Cut it out. I have more going on in my life than Yun. What is it?”

“So snappy, I must have been right. Kirima asked you something.”

With crossed arms, the brown-haired girl gazed at her intently. “You seem out of it. I was wondering if you wanted to go and grab a drink?”

“I’m okay,” she blinked, “The crowd’s a lot, but outside of that I’m fine.”

Kirima tilted her head to the side. “So you don’t want a drink?”

“You can stay. Any reason to stretch my legs is a good one. What do you want?”

“If you’re bringing drinks, bring all of us something.”

Kyoshi elbowed Lek for that one.

“I could use a drink. Something cold,” Wong chimed in, “If you can bring it back. I’m not moving.”

That much was expected. Everyone shared their desired drinks, and moments later, she was crossing the mass, uncomfortably. She is shoved, she is pushed, then eventually somehow Kyoshi winds up in the middle of everything, and for a moment, time stills.

Lights were hanging above her head the entire time – but from where she stood, the angle was perfect. Her cardigan was tied around her waist, braid stuck to her neck with damp strands. 

For a long moment, she squinted. Held still. Perhaps even forgot to breathe. Then, it clicked, meaning the picture was done. The filter settings made it look more moody, the neon lights blaring and vibrating, the outcome slightly grainy and blurred, intentionally. Amidst it all there was a figure standing – unintentionally.

That was the first time Kyoshi’s eyes scanned the silhouette. Spine pulled straight. Shoulders in an even line. Arms taut. Hair curling at the base of her neck, slightly damp. She was preoccupied fixating on something else – but her side-profile was effortlessly perfect.

Kyoshi inhaled sharply. It only took her a handful of months to get Rangi’s words out of her mind – to forget the impact she made on her. Existence was so easy when she stopped worrying about what she was told. 

After the studio incident, they never ran into each other again. Though Kyoshi lingered, kept the door wide open, Rangi never seemed to stray that way anymore, almost as if they hadn't made up at all. Her initial smile seemed to fade… If she moved quickly enough, she could duck and disappear. 

She should have known better. There was no evading Rangi.

Perhaps she noticed because Kyoshi stared really hard. The heatedness of the crowd barely seemed to have an effect on Rangi, and Kyoshi was incredibly envious of her resistance. 

When their eyes meet, she is frozen in time.

People around her slow down as well, blurring a little. The only thing to tell Kyoshi was still alive was the beat in her throat. 

“Why are you staring at me?”

Why was she? Kyoshi couldn’t answer.

A girl – similar height, very similar posture, and entirely identical hairstyle appears, latching herself onto Rangi’s arm, giving Kyoshi more time to gather her thoughts.

“Rangi – I found this stall that sells cold drinks. We should grab some, I’m dying of thirst.” 

They share a glance. Then, Rangi’s eyes pan back to Kyoshi. “Your friend?” the girl hummed with the neon lights glimmering in her eyes.

“Just someone from university,” Rangi replied, stepping closer. “Koulin – this is Kyoshi. Kyoshi, this is Koulin. My roommate.”

Stepping forward, apparently Koulin extended a hand towards her. “Nice to meet you! I don’t know many people Rangi talks to outside of university, so you must be special. I’m Koulin.”

Absent-mindedly, Kyoshi shook her hand back, bobbing her head earnestly.

That’s when she realized she was still wearing the goofy frog hat, and both of them saw it. Ceremoniously Rangi’s eyes climb her features, then drop without a comment.

“The pleasure is mine,” Kyoshi replied softly, “I don’t want to bother your outing. I was just going to grab some drinks for my friends and I.”

Rangi crossed her arms in front of herself. “With the camera?”

There was no correlation. “Yeah – the lights are great now, so I thought why not?”

There was no real challenge in the air. Koulin seemed surprised about Kyoshi’s ease. “Come, grab a drink with us, Kyoshi!”

This had to go through a second round of approvals for sure. Her gaze shifted to Rangi, wordlessly. “Do whatever. I just want to get out of here soon, Koulin. This crowd is making me annoyed.” 

The girl giggled. “Yeah, me too.”

So there they were. The three of them walked together – Kyoshi awkwardly tailing behind Rangi and Koulin since she wasn’t able to say no to their question, or had any idea what way she wanted to go to get the drinks. This was her best shot.

It’s not entirely awkward, walking behind them. Koulin is talking about a topic the two of them probably discussed before, since Rangi didn’t have much of a reaction to it – based on her half-assed and generally incorrect assumptions, Koulin didn’t seem like the type who was also doing arts like the two of them. 

“I forgot entirely – will you be working tomorrow?”

A nod from Rangi. Kyoshi couldn’t help but wonder what she did in her free time.

“I have a bunch of new kids to oversee. Maybe there will be a few promising ones. Kung Fu isn’t for everyone.”

Was she working as an instructor? She wished she could see.

“I’ll come by tomorrow afternoon then,” Koulin chimed in, “What do you want for lunch?”

Rangi glanced back. It broke Kyoshi out of her trance.

“Are you just going to lurk?”

An awkward laugh surfaced out of her. “There’s not much for me to say.”

Another drawn out look, both from Koulin and Rangi, and the conversation continues. Based on what Yun told her, Rangi was supposed to have no friends – definitely not the type who’d bring her lunch and look out for her schedule with such precise care. Could it be that he was wrong about her?

Well technically he was wrong. Rangi didn’t hate her, nor did she seem to be jealous of her position as Yun’s girlfriend. Not to mention she couldn’t bring herself to hate her either. If anything, it seemed like Rangi was preoccupied with her business most of the time, and she only commented when it was absolutely necessary for her to do so.

Eventually reaching the stall that sold the cold drinks, one of them takes a while to pick, while the other gives the most straightforward answer ever.

Then, there was Kyoshi. Almost asking for every kind of drink they had – and two spare bottles of water. She was sure eventually it would do good for them, if not for anything else but so that they could wash their hands with it. 

Once done, she breaks the suffocating silence, avoiding the gazes of the girls she was with. “I really should go back to my friends now – they are probably wondering where I am right now…”

“Oh, Kyoshi! Can you take a picture of me and Rangi together? She always says no to me, but you seem like someone who knows what she’s doing. She’ll be pressured just enough to say yes.”

For a long moment, Kyoshi waits. Just to see if Rangi was okay with it or not. She exhales long.

“You can not show it to anyone.”

That was for Koulin. Of course the girl heartily agreed – nodded and jumped, throwing an arm around Rangi’s neck and shifting into a happy pose. Rangi just crossed her arms – staring at Kyoshi with uncanny softness in her eyes.

A few minutes go by with quiet clicks – the shots, from what she was able to tell, were going to turn out wonderful with an aftertouch. Once they’re done, Kyoshi promises she’ll send them over, and that’s how they leave it.

Or so she would assume.

“Hey Koulin,” Rangi called out of the blue, “I completely forgot that I promised my Mother to take her home a sandwich. Something that won’t give her a heart attack when she eats it. Could you pick it up for me?”

A hip on the hands, and Koulin pointed at Rangi. “What? Why are you making me play delivery girl for you?”

She sighed. “I’ll pay you one too.”

Perhaps there was some non-verbal communication going on between these two Kyoshi failed to pick up on – but Koulin seemed to agree without a further push. “I’ll text you the menu.”

Was Yun right? Rangi did seem kind of terrifying. A few more words are exchanged, and then, they are left momentarily alone. Kyoshi felt awkward about it. Somehow she felt more at ease when it was the three of them.

Rangi’s eyes could burn a hole through her skull. She couldn’t help but avert her eyes when she felt hers shift. “What are you waiting for?”

“Huh?”

“Didn’t you want to take those back to your friends?”

Oh.

“Right… I can find my way back though.”

Rangi nodded. “Let’s go.”

And that left Kyoshi confused. “What do you mean ‘let’s go?’ Do you want to come too?”

Another nod. 

“Won’t Koulin get worried if she can’t find you here?”

“No. She’s a big girl, Kyoshi. She can find her way home.”

Now getting her to leave sounded slightly intentional. Eventually, she just shrugged. These drinks were slowly warming up in the white plastic bag she was clutching onto. They get a move on – but for a while, it’s just the crunch of Rangi’s boots and her quiet return.

The crowd didn’t dissipate, but the Sun already dipped underneath the horizon, and they were taking an alternative route to avoid most of the people.

“Where have you been lately?”

Was it suddenly everyone’s business?

“Why?”

That’s all she could muster. Rangi rolled her shoulders. “Swung by the studio the other day. It was awfully quiet. I saw a draped bust where you usually sit, so I assumed you didn’t go in a while.”

Kyoshi’s lips flattened into a line. “Ah. Did you need something?”

They weren’t looking at each other.

“No. That was just the way I was walking home.”

Lie.

“I wasn’t in town.” 

A hum of understanding – and Rangi doesn’t press further. There are probably questions on her mind, but Kyoshi could not figure. “I was wondering…”

A pause. She shouldn’t get too friendly, right? In their status of existence around each other, what was deemed acceptable?

“How long have you been friends with Koulin? She seems like a nice girl.”

“Sixteen years. No. Seventeen.”

Kyoshi gasped lightly. That was the majority of their lives! “Impressive. You seem to be on great terms. It’s a refreshing change.”

“Why are you saying that?”

Kyoshi scoffed, oblivious. “Well I just thought you had no friends. It’s nice to know you do have someone at the very least.”

Coming to a sudden halt, Rangi’s voice drops. “I told you last time, you shouldn’t believe everything Yun tells you.”

An unnecessary blow – but rightful. This thought stemmed from Yun. “This isn’t about him. I just…”

“That’s fine, Kyoshi. Next time just formulate your own thoughts.”

Well that made everything unnecessarily tense. Until she noticed Rangi’s eyes trailing off again, this time noticeably grabbing into her hat. Again. “What’s the frog hat for?”

Kyoshi forgot she was wearing it, still. With a sigh, she grabbed it to slip it off, shoving it into the plastic bag. “Me and my friend, we were matching them. But it was his idea! He guilt-tripped me and I didn’t want to hurt him.”

A pink flush colors her cheeks. There’s no audible response from Rangi – so she glances to the side, only to find her smiling. “It’s not funny.”

“It suits you. You shouldn’t have taken it off.”

Kyoshi’s frown eventually turned into a pout. The rollercoaster this conversation was felt inevitable.

When the familiar table crept into view, they were still eagerly discussing respective memories on university-related matter. It slipped Kyoshi’s mind entirely that she told absolutely no one about her amendments with Rangi and that they ended up on somewhat friendly terms even.

So when her friends notice the company who’s walking by her, everyone freezes. She catches a glimpse of Kirima grabbing onto Wong’s hand under the table – and Jinpa’s legs jumping. Lek, however…

“Hey – you! What took you so l…”

He noticed late. The words die in his throat on Rangi’s sight, and somewhat formally, she bows her head.

“Good evening.”

Everyone’s silent until Kyoshi breaks it. “I’ve got your drinks,” she hummed, placing everyone’s drinks in front of them. “Sorry it took so long – I ran into Rangi while I was looking around, and more time passed than I realized.”

Like she’s a spirit, the others are staring at Rangi. Kyoshi has ideas why – probably because of the same rumors Yun planted into her mind initially. She sighed. “I know what you guys are thinking – but don’t worry! Rangi won’t eat you. Right?”

Like someone who’s actually considering it, Rangi hums. “I’m quite peckish, actually.”

Kyoshi’s head darts to the side, and Rangi’s reaction is priceless. It is a snort-laugh when she hunches over, planting her palms on her knees while wheezing out loud. She’s so stunned she doesn’t even know what to say or do. 

“Oh, you should have seen your face.”

Embarrassed. That’s what Kyoshi was. She’d never heard anyone laugh like this before. 

It seemed like she was the only one in the mood for jokes, as no one else laughed. Not that it mattered for all she cared. Nudging Kyoshi forward, she urges her to sit down, and takes a seat on the bench right beside her.

“So, what’s important to know about you guys?”

Nothing was normal about that night. Not Rangi following her – sitting down, making friends with her friends. Not how Lek thought it would be a great idea to order a sandwich named Meltagedon – with ten different types of cheese. Not how forty-five minutes later, as he was on his knees in the grass, the melted cheese making its way back up his stomach, Kyoshi just sat as a watch.

Facing away, of course. Listening to his suffering.

“You know,” he groaned, chugging down some water, “You weren’t there to stop me from ordering the Meltageddon, so I am blaming you Kyoshi.”

That was fine. She approved it with a hum, eyes unfocused.

“But seriously though – how did you even remotely think it would be a good idea to invite her along?”

“I told you – I didn’t invite her. She just walked me back and then stayed. What’s so wrong with it anyways?”

“Heh,” he breathed, “That’s cute, Kyoshi. You seemed to have forgotten about this incredibly important event in my life… two years ago.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Which one?”

“The girl I had a crush on – you seriously don’t remember? I was telling you guys about it actively. I was hopelessly into her, does it not ring a bell?”

Faint memories appeared in her mind. “Not really.”

“Seriously? I frequently recalled that she had a death-like aura. Before I dropped the topic, I told you guys I tried to ask her out but she just straight-up rejected me. You ended up coming to my place for three weeks so I wouldn’t sink into depression!”

“ Oh! That story!”

Kyoshi slapped her knee. “What does this have to do with anything?”

He shifted behind her back. She closed her eyes. “Think about it, genius.”

She does.

She does .

“Hold on – Rangi was your crush?!” Kyoshi turned around suddenly, and then regretted it immediately. It was one thing that everything behind this stall smelled like grease, something burnt to crisps and the sweet scent of onions, but seeing whatever came back out of her friend was a different thing. “Eugh!”

Immediately she turns around again, and Lek chuckles. “Yeah exactly. This is your Karma for bringing her back to us, Kyoshi. I thought she couldn’t get any more beautiful, but I was so wrong. Should I try again? I think I should. This is a sign.”

Kyoshi exhaled long. “I don’t know. She seems like the type who’d devour you alive.”

“Since you’ve become besties with her, replacing me in your heart,” he started, “You should tell her sometime how awesome I am.” 

Kyoshi laughed. “We’re not besties. I haven’t seen her since the studio incident.”

“The what?”

Too warm, too full, vaguely dazed. 

That was the best way to describe the festival crowd. Sitting stiff with her arms closed and legs neatly tucked under herself, expression vague – just polite enough to imply she meant no harm –, if anyone who knew Rangi would have seen her, they’d think she was held hostage there.

“I’m just saying,” Wong declared, his elbows planted on the table with alarming conviction, “ever since I started wearing it, my sense of direction has gone completely haywire. Last week I accidentally walked into someone’s back garden instead of the grocery store.”

A sip, and then Kirima replied. “Did you take a wrong turn and end up at the old hag’s backyard? The one who has an obsession with garden gnomes?”

Almost as if a murder case was solved, Wong pointed at her. “Yes! I saw many gnomes!”

“You are probably cursed then. I remember crazy stories from that backyard – I considered many of them rumors conjured by stupid high-schoolers, but there must be some reality to it…”

Thoughtfully, Jinpa hummed. “Do you think cursed items have auras, or is it more like… latent energy?”

Wong looked at him seriously. “It tingles whenever I wear it.”

Rangi, who had not contributed to this conversation whatsoever in a hot minute, looked up from her untouched drink. “Are you sure you didn’t just thrift something with lice?”

Bad comment. Three pairs of eyes are staring back at her, and she’s not going to subject herself to nonsense all evening long. Kyoshi had disappeared thirty minutes ago – she thought she’d come back quickly, and some alone time helped her rebuild some of her composure, but this was too much. 

With zero explanation, she set her hands on the table and stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to look for Kyoshi and Lek. Given their tendency to wander off and attract disaster, this should be promising.” 

None of them stopped her as she walked away.

She navigated through the thinning crowd with ease, scanning the stalls and whatever was behind them with just a few looks. Until there is an opening that does not attract many people, she doesn’t even think about stopping – and surely enough, that pays off. 

Lek was slumped on the ground, one hand splayed over his chest and the other clutching an empty water bottle like a lifeline. 

Kyoshi stood a few feet away, at first out of sight, but once Rangi moved closer it was more like she stood in respectful distance. Her cheeks were red – the sun must have burnt her a little.

Approaching the duo, it doesn’t take long for her to notice, but he doesn’t even know what’s coming. “Okay,” she sighed, “What happened here?”

A jolt – then he laughed, “As a brave astronaut, I flew too close to the grilled cheese sun and now I am paying the price for it.”

“He had this massive grilled cheese while I was gone – Meltageddon or whatever.”

Kyoshi sounded strangely calm. Maybe just tired.

“He threw up. A lot. He’s alive, barely, and even that’s lucky. A while ago he recalled he was seeing ghosts. I’d say it’s just the dairy and not the dead though.”

Rangi crossed her arms. “And you stayed?”

“ Of course I stayed,” Kyoshi replied as if Rangi asked something utterly nonsensical, “Was I supposed to leave him here unsupervised?”

“Fair enough.”

That’s all she said. 

“Hey,” his voice called weakly, “Rangi?”

“ No. ”

Lek seemed wounded by the sharpness of her reply. He glanced up from his slumped position, a hand on his heart. “I didn’t even say anything yet.”

“You smell of shame.”

“Not shame,” he breathed, “It’s just the gorgonzola.”

Kyoshi choked on a laugh. She turned away, covering her mouth up.

That made Rangi smile too.

What was coming up was much worse.

“Listen,” he started, turning around to lick his lips, almost as if he was in a terrible 90’s rom-com. “I’ve been thinking. You and me – me and you. We’re both strong. We both know pain – I presume . I may have thrown up, but I did so as a warrior. You – have a terrifying aura, which awakens my survival instincts. I think we’re a good fit.”

Both Kyoshi’s and Rangi’s eyes widened at the same time. She turned back around to face Lek while Rangi stood still. Other than her eyes, her expression remained unchanged. “You have some grilled onion on your face.”

That was it. Kyoshi, after taking a deep breath, walked closer to the mess, holding a paper tissue in her hand to wipe his face, and then she grabbed him by the arms, pulling him standing. It was a ridiculous sight.

Dragging him away, Rangi continued. “You have the guts, I’ll admit that much.”

“I’m a graphic designer,” he continued, “with a flair for the streetwise art styles. I could draw you sometime. I can do it from memory actually. I’m pretty sure I could define your aura even. It’d be quite artistic. I’d title it “Rangi’s Fury.” It would be a hit, trust me.”

Kyoshi looked away, awkwardly hanging him on. He was digging his grave and she surely didn’t want to interrupt it. Less headache to her later on.

“Did he have a drink?”

She shook her head. Rangi sighed. 

His eyes were half-closed when he sniffled, “I knew it. I knew you’d smell like this mixture of sweet vanilla and the honor you carry in your heart.”

One of her eyebrows perked up. “Kyoshi’s the one holding you, not me. I’m actually standing like – three feet away.”

The only reason she decided to step closer was to help Kyoshi drag him back to the others. Even like that her stance was impassive, like she was rescuing a soggy street cat. With ease, she pulled one of his arms over her shoulder, and Kyoshi slightly slouched.

“That’s not true – you’re touching me.”

“If you don’t shut up I will drop you like a hot rock.”

“I’ll die with a smile. Kyoshi, let me go.”

His weight slumped unevenly between the two of them. Kyoshi just patted him on the head. “Yeah, yeah. I will.”

Lek folded unevenly like a broken lawn chair. His scuffed converse shoes were getting very close to trampling on Rangi’s boots, and given she had no idea whether he stepped into his own vomit or not, she really wanted to avoid that.

“Life is bending me with trials and tribulations left and right,” she began his monologue, “I am carried by two women – one of whom is the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on, and the other is Kyoshi.”

Rangi shifted slightly – her knee accidentally kicking him. “I wouldn’t consider that a compliment. Your choices of grilled cheese talk loud enough.”

“Do not speak ill of the Meltageddon,” Lek whispered, and they started walking. Occasionally, Rangi managed to steal a glance over Lek’s head at Kyoshi, her obviously suffering more from this height difference than either of them.

Lek allowed himself to be carried with swagger – it felt like he considered Kyoshi and Rangi to be celestial beings or mythical creatures gently escorting him, rather than being half-dragged by an annoyed friend and an annoyed stranger.

A few more steps, and his head came too close to Rangi’s. “You know,” he murmured, “This is the closest we ever came physically . Astrally – we’ve been aligned for years.” 

“Stop talking.”

“You’re so strong – how are you this strong? It’s like your personality. Hot.”

An apologetic look is shot in Kyoshi’s direction before Rangi halted and let go of him. A panicked scream came mostly from him and a little from her, and she crossed her arms. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

The situation was absurd. Kyoshi laughed – it was low and wheezy from the exertion, cheeks flushed, figure lit by the orange street lamps and the neons from far away. She glanced sideways at Rangi, their arms brushing a little when she stepped closer again to continue helping.

“Thanks,” she said, voice quiet but brimming with genuinity.

She gave Kyoshi a short nod. “You should be.”

“Why? You’re fond of us, aren’t you?”

The only reason Rangi didn’t hit him yet was because she didn’t want him to vomit all over either of them. She rolled her eyes.

“You’re a tough one to crack,” he continued, “But the world knows I love with courage, so it won’t be enough to dishearten me.”

Kyoshi was the one to intervene now – “That’ll be enough, Lek.”

“He’s alive!”

Jinpa was the first one to spot them. By the time they reached the table, Lek seemed to be more or less fine – taking the final steps by himself. 

“Define ‘alive’,” Kirima said, head tilted to the side. “He seems a bit pale.”

The laughter of the group is immediate – voices blend into one another’s, Lek’s stronger than the others, and Kyoshi feels her shoulders dropping. It was like a grace when Rangi cleared her throat, and they came to a stop.

“I’m going to head out. Goodnight.”

She’d be ready to leave, too – immediately, was it not for Kyoshi’s sudden intervention.

“Wait,” she said without thinking, “I’ll come with.”

Kyoshi suddenly shifted, reaching for her bag and swung it over her arm. The rest of the group hummed as one. “Kyoshi, you’re leaving? We were gonna go have a few drinks down the block.”

“I’m very tired. I drove five hours today – and I have a few plans for tomorrow. I promise I’ll stay longer next time,” she hurried with an apologetic glance, her eyes shifting to Rangi almost eagerly. “Let’s go.”

Rangi stood there for a few moments longer as Kyoshi said her goodbye – promised she’d text the group chat when she got home, and before long they were on their way.

The buzz of the festival rolled on in the background – distant sounds of a DJ’s wishy-washy tunes, the laughter of people, as well as the unmistakable sound of something deep frying in oil.

The sidewalk stretched ahead of them in the soft hush of the evening, streetlamps blinking and flickering here and there. Their steps synced up into a wordless echo, walking side by side, slowly. “I forgot how warm the city stays at night,” Kyoshi hummed, fanning herself.

Moments later, Rangi’s gaze added to that heat. “I thought I’d be freezing, so I brought a cardigan, but I just feel… sticky.”

“It’s probably because of the skirt,” Rangi deadpanned, “It’s massive.”

Kyoshi didn’t think so. She shook her head.

“I’m… not saying it’s bad though. It suits you.”

Glancing awkwardly aside, Kyoshi hummed. “That almost sounds like a compliment. Almost. ”

A roll of Rangi’s shoulders is all she can see, before she’d turn her head away. She hit the nail on the head it seemed.

The laughter that bubbled from her throat sounded light – Kyoshi didn’t even feel like laughing. It was an instinct. Endearing, in a sense.

Turning the corner together, they walked through a residential area – a massive park, big block buildings, scarce lights. The pavement glittered from a recent cleaning. 

“By the way,” Kyoshi spoke first after a few minutes of silence, “I just wanted to thank you.”

It looked like her gratitude caught Rangi off guard. 

“For… helping me get a drink. And introducing me to your friend. Also you didn’t really have to come and see my friends – so thank you for that as well… Just in general for everything. I know they can be a lot.”

“They are,” was the only reply she heard.

“Still,” Kyoshi mumbled, “You didn’t make it weird. I appreciate it.”

They continue walking. Kyoshi counts the number of lit up windows she sees. Thirteen, before Rangi talks again.

“You seemed happy,” her tone was casual, almost light, “With them. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so laid-back.”

Kyoshi scoffed. “Happy?”

“A little lighter than your usual studio-gloom or existential crisis over your boyfriend.”

The smile turned into a frown. She nodded slowly. 

“I missed being around them, even if they drain me. They don’t pressure me to be good at anything we do together. I can do anything, and that freedom is pretty comfortable.”

Rangi hummed, a quiet sound at the back of her throat. 

“I don’t feel like I always fit with them. They’re amazing, but really loud. So colorful. At times when I match their chaos, I feel like I am just pretending.”

“It didn’t look like you were pretending tonight.”

Kyoshi’s eyes shifted aside. “Not tonight. I laughed so much until my stomach hurt – I even forgot about the stupid frog that. I really enjoyed this day.”

“That hat was a choice.”

An exasperated exhale sounded. “You probably think less of me now.”

“There wasn’t much to think from the beginning,” Rangi replied, stifling a chuckle. Kyoshi understood the intent to joke – but it also hit something deeply personal within her. What if it wasn’t a joke?

They passed under another street light – Kyoshi caught the soft glow curling around Rangi, and with that, she looked away too. It was beautiful.

“You can be more than one thing,” Rangi said eventually, “You’re not pretending and you’re not being dishonest whenever your mood changes. It is normal.”

Their footsteps came to a slow halt. Kyoshi’s gaze was pinned to the head of her sneakers. 

“Do you mean this?”

“I do.”

She nodded slowly.

Kelsang had said something similar, didn’t he? That she had to listen to herself who she was under all the noise? What exactly did he imply by noise? Other people’s perception? Their expectations? 

She bit the inside of her mouth. Rangi didn’t rush her.

“I’m not sure you’re aware, but in life, nothing ever stays the same. Your feelings… They are allowed to shift, too. You don’t owe anyone consistency if it costs your peace.”

When Kyoshi glanced up, there was something unreadable in Rangi’s eyes. Not quite sorrow – not quite relief. Perhaps both.

“You looked like you were spiraling earlier,” Rangi continued, softer now, “Caught up in your own head. You seem the type who shuts down when your thoughts grow too loud. Change that.”

“You say it like it’s easy.”

“I don’t think it is,” Rangi continued, “Because it is not. However, if you keep rearranging yourself to fit every edge around you, you’ll run out of corners to stand in.”

A ghost of a laugh escaped Kyoshi. “So you’re saying I should stop trying too hard.”

This time it was Rangi who looked away. “What I’m saying is,” she paused for a long moment, perhaps contemplating if she should say it or not. She did so anyway. “Stop trying so hard to be loved .”

They stand in silence for a while. It was uncomfortable, until Kyoshi whispered, “Thank you.”

Hi Kyoshi,

I wasn’t sure how to reach out to you directly, but I managed to find your contact through the student directory. I hope you don't mind my intrusion.

In February, I was helping sort the art exhibit’s submissions, and I just realized that the piece that didn’t make the cut was yours. I assume something was wrong with the spacing or it just didn’t get chosen during the selection, but it was a mistake.

I can not stop thinking about it.

It evoked powerful feelings within me and it’s been sitting with me silently ever since. Through my colleagues I managed to learn that so far you’ve been under Professor Morao’s supervision, but I don’t feel like he can unlock your true potential. Your pieces are tense – quietly devastating. 

I wondered: what did that piece mean to you? If that’s not too forward. We could discuss it in person – I’d like to offer you my personal mentorship while we’re at it. We could elevate your skills to a whole new level, without overwriting or erasing your already existing style.

My open hours are on Thursdays. Come see me in 208 if you’d like to hear more, preferably after lunch. 

Sincerely,

Professor Daoran

Chapter Text

“Ah – shit.”

A hiss sounds through gritted teeth. A couple of steps to the left, then some to the right – trying to shake it off.

“Kyoshi?”

There is no real indication of when and how did she appear from the other end of the studio to where she was standing – momentarily slouched over, holding onto her right index finger with a fist.

The wire loop was now bent, haphazardly dropped onto the table – pain laced through her right hand, and Rangi’s voice cut through the buzzing silence.

“Were you not paying attention? You can’t be so reckless with a loop tool like that. It’s your dominant hand too.” 

Anything that was said barely registered. She heard them, yes – every syllable, with pressing care – but they slowly lost their sync. As if she was listening to her from under the water. Kyoshi’s mind couldn’t keep up – not with the throbbing pain, and much less Rangi’s presence.

That’s right.

Rangi had become a part of her days without ever asking to be. She was there when Kyoshi felt like herself, when she didn’t, when everything was fine and when everything wasn’t. Most days they talked about everyday things – classes, movies, the campus cafe and how it was infamous for running out of the most delicious tea by noon. Nothing too deep. Just the right amount of casualness to make for a perfect distraction.

Rangi was wrapping her hand with the cleanest rag she could find around here, checking her pressure, the bleeding, assessing how much damage’s been done. Her touch was careful. Measured. Attentive that lacked tenderness. 

She kept talking – about ligaments. Proper support. That she needs to be more careful unless she wants to stick her finger into her next sculpture. None of the words stuck – they just lulled into soft cadence. Lips moving.

Kyoshi blinked, her eyes lingering on her lips. She spoke with so much control, even when she was agitated. There was something sharp and beautiful about how her mouth formed syllables – slightly parted, now, mentioning the word disinfectant. Her lower lip fuller, tinted pink. How did she not notice this before?

She also has learnt overtime that there were telltale signs to her mood. When she got impatient, her lips tightened. When she was thinking, they pursed. When she was tired, they pressed into a faint line, a dam unbroken with things left unsaid. Now, though? They were just moving. Unthinking. Soft.

Kyoshi inhaled slowly. She didn’t mean to stare, but she lost control over her gaze.

So, she continued.

Faded freckles were barely visible on the bridge of her nose – dusted, the sunlight’s doing. She must have been out a lot lately, walking from one destination to the other. Faint warmth discolored her skin – her usual porcelain-like visage was now softly flushed, her cheekbones defined. 

The drift carried on.

When she blinked, her eyelashes swept downward, focused entirely on Kyoshi's hand now – probably thankful for the quiet compliance. Even when still, her gaze demanded gravity, and the small lines around her eyes crinkled, in sync with the creasing dip of her eyebrows.

She didn’t think she ever looked at Rangi for this long. Or, well – not quite like this.

Where her neck met her ear, there was a small mole, just beneath her jawline. Only visible when she tilted her head upward, otherwise hidden. What a detail. Her hair was pulled into an efficient knot, held in place by a ponytail and a pin. From this close proximity, Kyoshi could see the baby hairs that curled at her temple, and some of those that laid against her neck. Her shampoo smelled like –

“Hey.”

The strength her hand was gripped with was all too suddenly gone. A couple of times Kyoshi had already noted that Rangi always kept her nails short, unpolished, clean. Her fingertips were slightly calloused, something an everyday person would have no idea of. Whether Kyoshi was lucky or unlucky to know was a different question.

“Is there something on my face?”

That’s the question that yanks Kyoshi back to reality. She shakes her head a little and hums no. One of her eyebrows arched high, doubting the honesty of her answer. Her eyes had narrowed, contemplating if she should call her out or not. “You’ve been staring at me for like a full minute. Did you hear anything I just said?”

She shifted her weight to one hip and let go of Kyoshi’s hand. The bleeding had stopped – and her finger was wrapped with a handy, clean bandage. Kyoshi’s throat felt dry. What was that?

“Great. You’re losing your blood and your dignity.” 

A light laugh surfaces – first from Rangi, turning into an adorable snort, then it is followed by Kyoshi. “We’re done for today,” Rangi announced with finality, “No more slicing yourself open. I want a cold drink – you’re coming too.”

Kyoshi looked at her, still reeling. 

“One might think you just got your tongue cut with how quiet you got all of a sudden. What is it?” 

A beat. Then, Kyoshi allowed her shoulders to finally drop. “I’ll – clean up and then we can go.”

“Good. I give you five minutes. If you’re not out by then, you can come back here and become one with your sculpture. I’m done for the day.”

With that, she was already walking out the door. It took her only that long to shuffle all of her tools into her bag, everything she worked on until now – and Kyoshi had… what? Four and a half minutes left?

The bandage on her finger tugged slightly with every move she made – picking up the pace, she turned back around to slowly gather her scattered tools. Loop, wire, sponge – characteristically thrown back into their containers. 

She braced the edge of the table. The words kept replaying in her mind – why was her brain stuttering now? It was embarrassing to stare so much, especially at a friend. Of course, it was a known fact to everyone that Rangi was a one of a kind beauty – there was no denying that. But what was she feeling odd about? Being caught?

Seeing Rangi wasn’t anything new. She was practically everywhere – the library, the studio, the ice-cream place down the street. Whenever she wasn’t working or training, she would be here – right where only the sculptors came. And Kyoshi? 

Well, she learned what her laugh sounds like when she doesn’t stifle it. She also learned that she loves her coffee cold with a drizzle of honey and cinnamon. Her favorite ice-cream flavor was an acquired taste – ube with balsamic strawberry swirls. That sometimes, even despite having a great memory, she’d forget some things behind. It was great to know these things about Rangi. To see her eyes sparkle in a different light.

She frowned – shook her head.

Kyoshi was grateful, and that was all. Rangi had been there to distract her, and she couldn’t thank her enough. What’d she be doing now otherwise? Rangi listened without asking too many questions – gave space when Kyoshi needed it or closeness when she didn’t know she needed it. That kind of presence? It wasn’t hard to grow attached to. Anyone would notice the things she did. The slope of her nose. The curve of her lips. The peculiar fashion she pinched her graphite pen with and – 

That wasn’t strange. It wasn’t anything, in fact.

She was her friend. And Kyoshi really, really appreciated Rangi as one.

The last of her tools land in the rinse basin and after a tug of a plastic bag on her bust sculpture, she wipes her hands clean – grabs her jacket, and with her phone in her hands, runs outside. 

“She’s beautiful,” the measured voice called, deep and deliberate. “But I’ve met her before.”

“Sorry?”

Arms folded, the wearer of the fine charcoal blazer circled around the bust from a farther distance. “She’s like the last one. And the one before that.”

Professor Daoran gestured lightly, her hand drawing a slow arc in the air. “You’ve found a rhythm that works for you. Strong lines, commanding presence, bold texture and riveting ideas. However,” stepping closer, she brushed the jawline of the faceless statue. Clay dust gathered on her fingertips. “There’s no stretch. No risk. You’re predictable.”

Kyoshi bristled, just barely. Through her teeth she commented, “I thought consistency was good.”

It was a weak excuse. She knew it wouldn’t work.

“For a production artist?” The professor turned around, eyebrows raised. “Sure. For someone who wants to be technically impressive? Absolutely. You have to ask yourself the question: are you here for that? ”

A sigh surfaced.

“I chose you personally because I saw something in your work that students can’t fake – you… Kyoshi, you sculpt from instinct. The world hums, those emotions resonate within you, and you don’t even know it. It’s like – all the elements gathered inside of you and you’re just so… apologetic with your gift. You’ve got it,” but then she gestured at the bust again, “And this is not it.”

The weight of the words pressed against her chest. Her eyes shifted over to the bust again – it screamed power and no vulnerability. She just couldn’t grasp it. Something was missing, and she had no idea how to get it.

Professor Daoran shifted in place, her tone turning soft. “You’re too talented to plateau here, Kyoshi. You need someone who’ll teach you the art of fine details.”

Naturally, Kyoshi flinched. Seemingly crumbled a little after a sigh. “I don’t know where to start.”

“I’m assigning you a collaboration project.”

That made it even worse!

“For a grade?”

“ No. Goodness, no. It is for your personal growth.” 

It was evident that explanation wasn’t going to cut it. A slap against the forehead – and an apologetic smile later, the Professor and Kyoshi sat down.

“I intend to bring more out of you,” her gaze leveled, “Do you want to become someone who moves people? Then you need to stop sculpting in a vacuum. This is not outer space. You need contrast. Discomfort. To be grounded. You need to be thrown into a perspective that challenges your own. It will slow you down so you’ll understand. ”

Was that pride or anxiety that made her throat feel so tight?

“I don’t usually work with people.” 

“And that,” with a ghost of a smile, Professor Daoran practically glimmered, “is exactly why this will do you good.” 

It didn’t feel uncomfortable at all when the woman took her hands and squeezed them lightly. Kyoshi had grown quite used to the antics of the woman – as a refined sculptor, sharp-eyed curator, famously aloof and “out of this world” and a renowned professor, it was even considered normal for her to sense the world through touch.

There was a sense of familiarity in the warmth of her hands, too. Her dark, silver-threaded braid coiled down her shoulder, her eyes softer than before. 

“You’ll choose the collaborator. I suggest looking around the designing majors – material engineering, textile designs, architecture. I trust you’ll know when someone’s work grates against yours in just the right way.”

If that wasn't enough of a push, the professor added rather swiftly, “If you do well enough, I’ll make sure the results will find their way into both of your portfolios. With the kind of polish that gets the attention of graduate programs and galleries alike.”

Five steps ahead. That is where Professor Daoran was. She never wasted time on meaningless things – never wasted potential, either. Not hers, not anyone else’s. It felt like whoever Kyoshi wanted to work with she’d trust too.

“Build your future,” she emphasized lowly, “And don’t take too long. Summer break will only last a couple of blinks longer. I want you to enter the next semester with everything you’ve learned.”

Kyoshi nodded. There were things she wanted to say – but the creaking opening of the door stopped her before anything was said.

Not many people walked into this studio unannounced.

Especially not him.

“Yun?”

He stood in the doorway, backlit by the sunlight slanting through the hallway. Perfectly dressed, as always, his shirt rolled casually to the elbows, hair tousled just right – editorial, not accidental. A small bouquet of market flowers dangled from one hand, the colors wildly out of place from the rest of the studio.

“Oh. I hope I am not interrupting.” 

Professor Daoran’s face lifted at the sound, her eyes taking Yun in with one discerning look. Otherwise, her expression remained unreadable – polite and distant. 

“We were just finishing,” she replied, “Think about what I told you.”

Kyoshi gave the professor a tight nod, and before long, her heels clicked sharply down the corridor, leaving silence between the two of them that was heavier than before.

“I haven’t been in here for some time now,” Yun stepped further in, his eyes taking in the tools. He dusted his cuffs off. “It’s still… very much your vibe.”

It wasn’t like him to show up here. In fact, he made it a point not to, ever since Kyoshi started working late into the night in the studio. 

She got up from the worktable with a sigh. “I still have a lot to finish today.”

“Of course,” he replied smoothly, “I just missed you. Thought you’d appreciate the surprise.” With that, his smile twitched a little. “You’ve been really busy lately. Barely replying to my texts… Sometimes not even picking up my calls.”

Kyoshi’s voice softened out of habit. “I’m sorry – this piece is really time-consuming. The Professor – she said it’s not developing and… I don’t know, I’m anxious. She keeps saying she sees all this potential, but I don’t know where.”

Yun walked closer – the assortment of wildflowers plopped onto the worktable. He grabbed her hands, fingertips notoriously avoiding hers, still covered in the remnants of clay. This closeness made her sink down to the chair again, gazing up at him.

“You’ve been growing so much on your own,” he hummed, one of his hands slowly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It immediately escaped. “Kyoshi…”

Her name called out with that tenderness of his made her heart drop.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked quietly, “You seem… far away lately. I came all the way here, and even now you’re telling me you’re busy.”

Guilt rose in her. Like a reflex, she squeezed his hand. “ No – Yun, I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve just been so scattered lately, work is exhausting and I haven’t even prepared for my exams yet and – I didn’t mean to push you away.”

“You haven’t said ‘I love you’ in days now,” he said gently, “Since you rejected my collaboration offer for the downtown exhibit. I thought we were in this together, Kyoshi.”

“What – I do! I do love you. I’m just – tired, is all. I want to get better at this – at all of this… I feel like I’m failing no matter what I do. It’s so overwhelming.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes on her, hands cupping her cheek now. When he bent down, his lips fluttering hers, she smiled bittersweetly. “That’s all I needed to hear,” he whispered, his eyes scanning her from up close. “I’ll wait, no matter how long you take.”

With that, he pulled back a little, taking her hand again. That’s when he noticed.

“Did you cut yourself?”

Embarrassed, that jogged a whole set of other memories in her brain. Suddenly she wasn’t sure if their day was breaking records in terms of hotness, or if it was just coming from the inside.

“I did,” she breathed with a laugh. Yun mirrored it, sitting down next to her, “Just an accident.”

When the two of them faced the same direction, there were two plastic take-away cups next to each other – straws still inside. Kyoshi felt her world slowing down when he commented, 

“You must be drinking a lot of coffee if the plastic is piling up on you like this.”

Only, one of those cups didn’t belong to Kyoshi. 

[6:47 PM]

Rangi:

Kyoshi.

Do you still have the photos from the grilled cheese festival?

Kyoshi:

Yeah, I do. But they are on my camera

I’m not home though

Rangi:

Koulin’s been bothering me for them.

Just send them to me sometime.

Kyoshi:

I’ll export them and send them over later then

I’m going to the supply store 

I ran out of these small uh

Those chains for keychains

You know?

Rangi:

The snap hooks or the key rings?

Kyoshi:

The latter

It’s just this small side project 

Like the 50th 

As if I wasn’t buried in work already

Rangi:

Well don’t let me hold you back. 

Kyoshi:

I’ll send you the pictures in a bit

Tell Koulin I am sorry for the delay

I completely forgot them until now tbh

Rangi:

She’ll be fine.

Thanks in advance.

* * *

[8:23 PM]

Kyoshi:

[4 images attached]

Which one do you like the most?

I touched them up a little

Though the camera’s filters did most of the work

[8:37 PM]

Rangi:

The third is not bad. 

Koulin said I have a “lethal facecard” on the second one.

She laughed when I asked what it meant.

Do you know?

Kyoshi:

She just meant you’re so beautiful it could kill

Hahahaha

Rangi:

….

Kyoshi:

You looked like you were having fun

Do you go out with Koulin often?

Rangi:

No.

Kyoshi:

What a shame

Anyways

I need to shower so 

I’ll ttyl

Rangi:

What is ‘ttyl’?

Kyoshi:

….

Is this your first day on the internet?

[READ – 8:40 PM]

There was a candid Kyoshi didn’t send – but it earned a place in her phone’s gallery regardless. Slightly blurred at the edges, far from perfection. 

Rangi isn’t looking at the camera in it. In fact, at that moment, she didn’t know Kyoshi was there yet – her side-profile dashing, shoulders pulled straight. Only after scanning the image at least thirty times over – clearing it up, playing with the contrast and colors a while, did she notice Koulin in the crowd as well, in the direction Rangi was looking.

By any means, it was a bad picture she spent so long editing.

It looked… different. Until now, Kyoshi forgot about its existence entirely.

“Rangi can never know,” she hummed to her phone in her clutch, “ Never. ”

Kyoshi sat on the floor, legs crossed over her boyfriend’s, arms behind her to support her position. Yun lounged close by, holding her phone, very closely looking at something. 

From how close they were sitting, it was easy for Kyoshi to make out the features she was most attracted to in Yun – physically speaking. Her eyes lingered on his jawline as she continued, “I’ve been documenting the entire building process. Starting from the wireframe, and I hope to go until it is finished.” 

With a motion that resembled a swipe from left to right, she encouraged him to keep going. “The Professor – you ran into her last time you visited,” she propped herself up with a grunt, her hands sitting on his knee, “She told me it would be good for my portfolio to show the process of my pieces. Taking a few pictures wouldn’t hurt, I thought.”

The screen Yun was looking at depicted various stages of the sculpture: the raw wire mesh, the slabs of the clay she already pressed in and rolled out, the finished curvature of the bust, ridged and beautiful. For now, it was a set of shoulders and a chin.

Yun took it with a curious hum, scrolling through the pictures, zooming in here and there. A sound of approval surfaced eventually. “You’re really pouring your heart into this.”

Kyoshi laughed – she raised her hand, the bandage still wrapped firmly around her finger. “I am – you can see it, my blood, sweat and tears are in it.”

He kept scrolling. Idly commented something about the reputation of Professor Daoran and how lucky Kyoshi was to be hand-picked by someone with such a revered status in the world of art. 

A slight flush crept in on her cheeks – she shifted her knee in order to make him stop, and he laughed. “The base is still weak. I need to create more… upward tension, and –”

Yun slowly locked the phone, passing it back with a smile.

“You’ll kill it,” he said, his voice low and calm, eyes dull, almost unfocused. “This will make for an excellent portfolio. Way better than last year. You’ve really grown into who you wanted to be.”

Kyoshi smiled. The motion of scooting closer was effortless – she draped her arms easily around his neck, and his hands were warm against her waist.

She felt so soft – so light, so blessed to be where she was. 

One hand shifted over under her ear, his kiss tentative. Her breath hitched in her throat – something about the silence that surrounded them felt so special neither of them wanted to disturb it.

Until the second kiss, that is.

Yun moved closer, his knees brushing against hers, the hand at her face slipping into her hair, just tugging it slightly. Her hands glided over to his shoulder, fingertips turning tight in the powerful grip on his shirt. 

There was a kind of rhythm in how they moved together – almost as if every kiss begged for the next one.

Kyoshi allowed her body to follow. To lean into him fully, lips parting only slightly as their mouths pressed deeper.

Behind the haze – underneath all of it, right where that voice resided, something flickered. Her hands faltered at his back, and when they separated, his lips grazed her neck with familiar hunger, but this time –

Her eyes fluttered open.

Only for a second.

An agonizingly long second.

There was a beat where her thoughts drifted.

Kyoshi hated herself for it.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The fan at the back of the studio clicked every three seconds in a useless revolution, offering no comfort and only blowing more hot air into the tight space. As if it wasn’t already a massive green-house with all the windows.

“She is trying to kill me,” Kyoshi groaned, bent over the worktable. Clay smeared across her arms like it was warpaint, her forehead was shiny with sweat, and the scowl she wore almost etched into her features. “The Professor hates me. That’s the only reasonable explanation! This is punishment. But what am I being punished for? Just existing? I’m going to wither away before I find someone who makes tiny details their whole-entire personality.”

Rangi sat next to her. She glanced up from her tablet. “It’s a learning curve, not a death sentence. Stop being dramatic.” 

That’s all she said. Dryly. Kyoshi heard when she kept tapping the screen with her pen.

Her arms flopped out dramatically. “I’m not made for this! My hands are made for – sculpting souls out of stone, not carving tea sets and charms for an Etsy shop.”

A huff. Rangi held back a laugh. “It is funny how you’re turning your whining into poetry. Only if you spent half of this energy on detailing, you’d be much further ahead.”

“I am whining,” Kyoshi declared with twisted pride, “I’ll have you know, if this continues on, this day will mark the beginning of my villain origin story. No more nice Kyoshi.”

Rangi poked her arm with the pen. Once. Twice. Thrice.

“We are not living in a tragedy,” she explained, “it’s the middle of summer, you’re just overheated and crying over your homework. Quit it.”

“You’re just cruel,” Kyoshi mumbled, her forehead on the table.

“I’m being practical and realistic. Try it sometime.”

“You’re probably getting a kick out of this,” Kyoshi continued on, shifting only so much that she could glance to the side.

“Obviously,” Rangi smiled, sipping her water neatly. “Would you like me to tell Professor Daoran your last words? We could etch them onto your plaque. ‘Here lies Kyoshi. Felled by being overly ambitious and forced to do detail work. May she rest in pea –”

“Enough,” she snorted, sitting up in her seat. “You’re not taking me seriously!”

Rangi closed the tablet. It was placed on the table with a thud.

“Kyoshi,” she started, moving closer to pat her on the shoulders. “If you weren’t such a stubborn perfectionist with the patience of a pebble , this wouldn’t feel like the end of the world.”

Kyoshi sat up slowly. She looked absolutely betrayed. “A pebble?”

Rangi shrugged. “A very serious looking pebble now. But, yes.”

It was too hot to argue. Kyoshi groaned in frustration, then a dramatic sigh followed. As she plopped back onto the wood, her undone sculpture staring back at hef from a distance, her eyes glazed over to Rangi again. 

She went back to sketching, having considered their ‘argument’ to be finished. The sun painted gold over her arms as she drew, then vicariously erased. Kyoshi’s eyes followed every motion – the jump of tendons at her wrist, the roll of her sleeves at her elbows. 

“You’re heartless.”

Minutes later, that was the first thing she said. Rangi readily nodded.

Kyoshi was surprised, having to hold back a grin. 

The mechanic whir of the fan settled between them again – Rangi never looked back, and Kyoshi was so thankful for that.

“She’s doing it again.”

Came the voice from the couch, then he flipped a page of the magazine he was glancing up from.

“Kyoshi. You’re suffering,” Jinpa tuned in, sitting with his legs crossed in a position from where he could see everyone.

Lek perked up from the beanbag he slouched over, “ And you’re being a large, loud baby about it.”

Kirima stood in front of her, wearing a marvelous set of oversized overalls and a mesh top, sipping her drink from an unusually shaped cup. “Okay – tell me again, I want to make sure I understand you.”

Like a martyr rising from her artistic ruins, Kyoshi put her hands together and pressed her eyelids shut. “I’m begging you, Kirima. I need your help to see differently.”

Kirima smirked. “Do you need me to prescribe you lenses, or what?”

“Artistically!” Kyoshi glanced up, “My Professor said I need to focus on learning how to do the small detail work! Tiny, intricate, miniscule things! Kirima, your hands are blessed with details!”

Lek snorted. “You’re actually down bad.”

Kirima sauntered over, much like a gracious goddess. She was wearing comfortable home slippers and even in the casualness, she looked high-fashion. “Do you want to learn it because you’re genuinely passionate, or are you trying to impress someone?”

It made Kyoshi think. She was doing it for herself – but the intention budded in the fact that she was told she should do it for herself. She hesitated. Kirima noticed, of course.

“Okay. Absolutely not.”

“What?! Why?!”

She bent down to pick up rolls of fabric, “I am elbow deep in commissions,” she started, tilting her head to the side where the mannequin was half-dressed, adorned with a feather boa. “You know that I love you Kyoshi, but you’re way more chaos than what my fried nerves can take at the moment.”

“Please! I’ll – I’ll clean your apartment. For free! ”

“You’ll just knock over something valuable, like last time. All my pattern markings were erased when you tried to clean up the mess with the wrong chemicals, might I add.”

Kyoshi flopped. “That was one time!”

And Kirima raised her hand, muttering, “Rejected.”

A long, guttural scream escaped her throat right into an embezzled pillow. Whoever laughed at her misery, she wasn’t sure, but it was less than comical for her.

When the bloodrush in her ears finally died down, Wong the traitor spoke first.

“Well… Why don’t you just ask Rangi?”

All of that was uttered with the innocence of a man lightning a match beside a gasoline leak and accidentally dropping it.

Kyoshi’s head popped up from the pillow. “What did you just say to me?”

Silence stretched in the room.

“You heard me,” he flipped a page, “Kyoshi, she’s basically a walking textbook on precision. If anyone knows how to break something into details, it is Rangi.”

Kyoshi stared at Wong almost as if he just suggested for her to learn how to swim by jumping off a cliff. “Great idea – let me sandpaper my own teeth first! Only that’s a better idea!”

“She’s not that bad.” Jinpa interrupted.

“Two weeks ago we ate take-out sushi. She corrected me on how to hold the chopstick, Jinpa.”

“She was probably hot while doing it though,” Lek piped up, almost glowing. “I’d let her critique me.”

Everyone in the room glanced at him.

“What?”

Wong raised an eyebrow. “She’d first destroy you, and then she might even take your lunch money.”

“That order is fine with me. I’ll give her my lunch money willingly.”

Kyoshi was slowly losing track of what was being said. It felt like no one had a correct grasp on Rangi’s personality up close.

“With how much you two are hanging out lately,” Kirima nodded her head towards Kyoshi, “You’re practically already collaborating. Why is she around you so much anyways? Doesn’t she have – what does she do in her freetime anyways?”

“I’m not sure. She just said she doesn’t want to sit home when the weather is so nice.”

“Just ask her,” Jinpa suggested, his words entirely useless.

“I could jump out the window,” Kyoshi hummed, “That’d be faster with the same result.”

Lek sighed dreamily. “If I were you, Kyoshi, I’d carve my tombstone next and then ask away anyways.”

Wong hummed in approval. “You could engrave it. That’s detail work.”

The mannequin in the window judged the wacky bunch – for a while, it continued like this. None of them were of any help.

[10:29 PM]

Kyoshi:

Hey

Are you coming by tomorrow morning?

[10:35 PM]

Rangi:

No. I’m working.

Kyoshi:

Too bad

For a change I wanted to bring some

Study books to the studio 

Write some notes and rehearse for my exam next week

Rangi:

Good idea. Why are you debriefing me on it?

It’s late.

Kyoshi:

I was just wondering if you’d come by

I feel more motivated to study if you’re there too

And you could study too

Rangi:

As I do every time I’m there.

Seriously, though.

Tomorrow is off for me.

But

Kyoshi:

That’s okay

Rangi:

I can check in on you early in the morning.

Via text.

To see if you’re really studying.

Kyoshi:

You’d be like my Dad

No thank you

I’m not sure I’ll go in then

I should

The dorms are so hot, even the shitty ventilation of the studio is better

Rangi:

You’ll be fine. Just go in.

I’m going to sleep now.

Good night, Kyoshi.

Kyoshi:

Good luck with work tomorrow [smile]

After she locked her phone, for a few moments she laid still in the darkness. Though Rangi’s presence was never intentionally taken for granted, it somehow really stung to be denied like that – with a completely fair and understandable reason, too.

Where did Rangi work again?

She was an instructor, wasn’t she?

Her way always took her from the gym to the studio… And if her practices were near, it was possible that she worked on the campus too, right?

Right?

There was no time in her mind to stop. 

Before she knew, the following morning Kyoshi was walking around the campus before eight in the morning – extremely unusual for her, who had a tendency to usually run late. With no rush, and having nowhere specific to be, it was entirely normal to wander around… or, at least in her perspective.

With a resigned groan, she pushed the gym’s doors open and quickly slid in. She was wearing baggy jeans and a low-rise shirt with a baseball cap to cover up some of her identity at least, a bag slung over her shoulders. It might as well have looked like she belonged here! 

But to be fair, she never had any reason to come to the gym outside of university related ceremonies if they were held inside, or if one of her friends wanted to eat dinner in total isolation a few seats would always be free here.

The building smelled like old rubber mats and wooden equipment. The early morning light flooded in through a high glass window, making even the unpolished surfaces gleam spotlessly. Walking inside with no sense of direction, she truly heard it before she saw it – the muffled shout of voices, the taps and thumps of bare feet, and the commanding voice that orchestrated it all.

Kyoshi moved to the side, going around the gymnasium itself, climbing the now fully empty bleachers. A high perch near the top row would conceal her just enough – she already felt all sorts of wrong being here, but turning around now would be even worse.

Elbows on knees, and she leaned forward to watch.

Rangi stood at the center of a loosely arranged half-circle of young kids, all in white traditional uniforms, their belts flapping as they followed the instructor’s motions with varying degrees of success.

It was very difficult to tell, but it looked like Rangi’s uniform had red accents along the trim, and some kind of a badge near the hip. Whenever she moved, she was graceful and precise, demonstrating moves with sharp lines in the air, her voice firm and unforgiving while offering one of a kind guidance.

One of the smaller girls – she seemed to have lost balance mid-kick and nearly toppled over, was it not for Rangi’s reflexes catching and steadying her with barely a twitch. Her lips move and Kyoshi’s awestruck.

She leaned back slightly, smiling. 

Though her tone was clipped and professional, when the kids got the moves how she asked for them, pride flashed across her face momentarily. A curl of her lips. A nod. Even crouching down and talking to them like that.

She adjusted their wrists. Slightly moved their feet apart so they held a stance in a much better position. Somehow, this suited Rangi perfectly. Of course she is like this everywhere.

Kyoshi was unsure how long she watched the training session go on for. 

Eventually, the sinking feeling settled in her stomach.

She whispered to herself.

“If I want to nail my details, it’ll have to be her.”

The morning air was crisp and cool, biting her in the cheek. Idling in front of the east wing of the gym, two hot cups steamed in her hands gently. She shifted her weight from one foot to another, the sleeves of her hoodie engulfing her in warmth as she shivered. The pale gray of their early, sunless morning was almost depressive.

How long had she been standing around now? Fifteen minutes? Twenty, maybe? Kyoshi was convinced she timed it just right – well, turns out she didn’t. She was early. Way too early.

There wasn’t a soul in sight.

From the outside, she must have looked like a stray dog that loitered too long wherever she didn’t belong. The back-doors of a bakery, begging for crumbs perhaps?

Given what she wanted, it seemed fitting. 

She hadn’t slept very well the night before. This plan of hers – it involved more planning than what was considered normal for her. Per se, that didn’t mean literal planning, more so spiraling into oblivion before convincing herself that giving in to the ideas her friends planted in her head would be in her best interest, admittedly.

The gym doors remained firmly closed, the metal handles dull in the cloudy morning. The hot cups in her hands were bound to run cold soon. Should she go inside?

No, that would be way more awkward. Why was her heart making such a big deal out of it anyways? It wasn’t the first time she bought coffee for the both of them – if anything, it was like a ritual. One deep inhale, followed by a long exhale. She was nervous.

Should she leave? Kyoshi still had time. Rangi promised to come by the studio today anyways – they were going to hang out regardless. 

“Actually yes,” she muttered to herself hastily, wrestling her beating heart. “That’s a good idea.” 

As she turned around to take the first step, her fingers tightened on the cup. The door opened with a creak, then slammed shut mechanically. 

She squeezed her eyelids together, her body as stiff as her sculptures.

“ Kyoshi? ”

An awkward laugh, then a glance back above her shoulders. She’s red due to the cold.

Rangi’s hair is damp with sweat, tied up and neat, her jacket tied around her waist loosely, shirt clinging to her shoulders. Still in the motion of looking at her phone, she was staring up at her, very much surprised about the run-in.

“What are you doing here?”

A motion, and she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ears. It stays. The first few blinks after waking from this surge of confusion are slow.

Turning around in place, Kyoshi raised both cups in her hands. “Uhm. Coffee delivery? Or was it not you who ordered this?” 

Her voice awkwardly pitched up by the end of the sentence. 

Rangi blinked. She shook her wrist, then commented, “At… 8:30 in the morning?”

A crooked smile was her offering in exchange. She was glad Rangi didn’t nitpick her accusation of ordering a drink in the first place. “I figured you’d be done around now,” she glanced off to the side, “Listen, before you get the wrong idea… Last week you said you couldn’t make it, so I swung by here in the morning – I don’t even know what I was thinking… I ended up climbing the bleachers and um… watched a while.”

To her surprise, Rangi crossed her arms as her hip cocked to one side slightly. She raised her eyebrows, but didn’t yell. “Were you spying on me?”

“No,” Kyoshi replied immediately, “Not at all – I just… well, I guess. Kind of. But – I knew you’d never let me come if I asked, and I was just really curious and I thought about it a lot and…” 

Kyoshi felt the stare burning through her. Rangi’s eyes dropped to the coffee, then jumped back up to her face. 

“You’re so weird,” she said, quietly. “Stop talking.”

Kyoshi shrugged, trying to hide the heat that was climbing up her neck. “Sorry.” 

Taking a step closer, Rangi examined the cups in her hands, and then she took the one she knew Kyoshi picked for her. Without any hesitation, she took a sip, then hummed. “At least this time you remembered the cinnamon.”

A fine strand of her hair slipped loose again – behind the steam cup, Rangi’s expression softened just a moment before she walked past her. Kyoshi watched her for a few seconds longer, and then rushed to catch up, holding back a smile.

Soon enough, they were back to their old routine. Always in the same place, assuming similar positions. Kyoshi tapped a clay smeared knuckle against her temple like she was trying to knock an idea loose. “Here’s the thing,” she started, “I asked everyone I knew. I asked everyone I didn’t know. Everyone said no. People are busy, or overwhelmed, or they just don’t want to collaborate. So who exactly am I supposed to work with?”

Rangi sighed. The topic was probably tiring her out.

“Do you think you’re the only one who’s ever been critiqued?” She asked, her voice sharp. She sat at the table, elbows leaning on it, spine straight. “I told you weeks ago to stop crying. You’re not being told off because she wants to discourage you, in fact, it is the opposite. There is space for your growth, otherwise she wouldn’t bother. You really should stop crying about it.”

Kyoshi glanced over. She looked like a beaten up puppy.

“A year ago during my finals,” she continued, putting her pen down. “I was told my buildings looked like they were designed by a sentient robot .” 

“No way,” Kyoshi hummed, wiping her hands. Then she inched closer to the table.

“Yes,” she replied, her fingertips tapping lightly against the table. “They said it has no soul. It was precise, yes. But there was no risk in it. No softness. No humanity. Might as well have said an AI bot made all my designs.” 

Rangi didn’t sound bitter or defeated. She delivered every line the same way, mostly expressionless. “I know how to build a structure that won’t fall for the upcoming two centuries, but they said it doesn’t breathe. That it would be perfect for robots with no affinity for humanity’s eccentricity.” 

Kyoshi stared at her for a long second, the silence shifting the air between them. “That’s awful.”

“They were honest,” Rangi turned a page, even though she was no longer drawing. “It didn’t mean I was bad. It meant someone saw where I could go next. It’s the same for you now.”

The fan hummed in the background. Kyoshi counted three ticks. Then a stupid expression spread across her face. She leaned dramatically forward.

“You know, if you’re so wise and mechanically precise, maybe you should be the one to help me find my tiny-detail-enlightenment.”

Rangi didn’t wait to defeat her. “No.”

“You didn’t even hesitate,” Kyoshi huffed. Everything led up to this moment – the planning, the coffee, slowly circling around the topic again… It was truly hopeless. Now she really asked everyone. “It could be a learning curve for you too, you know! You could help me do something miniature and precise, and I’ll help you find your lost architectural soul.”

Rangi didn’t answer this time. She looked back down at her half-finished sketch of a courtyard design, then at the list she compiled on a transparent sticky note attached to the page. The ceiling fan clicked multiple times over before she inhaled.

Then, wordlessly, she stood up. Closed her sketchbook, put the pen away. She didn’t look at Kyoshi as she pulled her sleeves up, brushing her hands off on the thighs of her pants.

Kyoshi blinked. “Wait. Are you actually –”

“Shut up,” she was told flatly. Effortlessly she circled around the worktable and tilted her head in the direction of the tools. “Show me how you start.”

Kyoshi opened her mouth, then closed it quickly. Surprise warmed the edges of her confusion, but she dared not to push her luck. She jolted from her place, hitting her thighs on the table, a loud ouch bubbling to the surface before she shuffled over.

Gathering most of the hair that sat at the base of her neck, Rangi tied it back – almost as if she was getting ready to execute someone. Kyoshi moved across the studio with newfound purpose, picking the cleanest apron she could from what was available, as well as grabbing another slab of clay from the shelf, setting it down on the board. 

“Technically the first step would be to cut the size you want to work with,” she said, more so to herself, but then sighed. It already seemed like Kyoshi would argue with herself the most when approaching this. “Let’s just skip that! So,” she clapped her hands together, beaming. “The first step is always wedging. It basically means… kneading the clay so you get all the air pockets out. If you want to compare it, it’s like working with really aggressive bread dough. Only if you mess this up, it might explode later. Trust me, I know. ” 

Rangi blinked. “That’s – comforting.” 

Kyoshi chuckled. “Don’t worry about it,” as if Rangi looked even remotely worried, “It won’t explode. I’ll make sure,” she added, stepping closer to the table. “I’ll show you.” 

With that, she picked up the lump and pressed it down, folding it into itself with the heel of her palm, her motion smooth, obviously practiced. “Ideally, you want to keep it tight, but don’t just smack it around. There’s a rhythm to it, but it’s not hard to pick up.”

Kyoshi stepped aside, her fingertips covered with grey. For a moment, she could see the signs of what seemed like hesitation in Rangi. Then, she took it.

Rangi’s elbows adjusted. Her back straightened. It seemed like the material was resisting her – it slipped from under her palms, and when she adjusted her grip, the shape wobbled with a defiant plop. 

“It doesn’t need to be perfect right away,” Kyoshi chimed in, but it didn’t reach Rangi in time. “Don’t over-correct yourself.” 

No replies. She tried again, slower this time, pressing her palms with controlled, steady pressure. It wasn’t as stiff as before. A little huff of breath through her nose, and her brows pulled together. Her arms, sharp with clean definition, flexed beneath the rolled sleeves of her shirt.

Kyoshi’s eyes dropped to the subtle line, watching her muscles work away as she pushed down, down, down. The small, precise adjustments she did with her wrist. It was messy, but the intensity was surely Rangi’s. She didn’t talk, and she also refused to walk away from it just because it wasn’t necessarily perfect on the first try.

And she stared. She didn’t mean to, but there she was.

Before Kyoshi noticed, the clay crumpled again, and Rangi looked back at her. “Is it supposed to fight me this much?” 

Her mouth curved without thinking. “No. However, knowing the general public’s reaction, I think it might be scared of you too.” 

Rangi’s humor was evidently dry. So dry in fact, that she just muttered, “Good. It should be.” 

“It’s not good,” Kyoshi laughed, shuffling closer. “Here – don’t tense your whole arm, let the motion flow from your shoulder.” 

“I was letting it flow,” Rangi replied, “It’s not working. You’re a bad teacher.” 

“Hey now,” Kyoshi bumped into her with her shoulder, “You’re being aggressive with your flow. It can work out in your favor, but you’re squashing it like a pancake every three seconds.” 

“I’m not squashing any –”

“You do,” Kyoshi cut her off, grinning. This was the sweetest revenge. She reached out gently to guide Rangi’s hands. “Can I?” 

The only indication of approval was a small noise from her throat, followed by a nod. 

Kyoshi’s hands reached the desired destination, wrapping lightly around Rangi’s. Her fingers brushed over her knuckles, both warm and slightly cool from the clay. She adjusted the angle of Rangi’s palms with editorial ease so they would move in sync, Kyoshi’s taller frame hovering over her shoulder, their elbows brushing in motion.

Rangi didn’t move.

“Like this,” Kyoshi said, softly. “See? You were fighting it too much. Let the weight do half the work.” 

“It’s not how structural design works.” Rangi muttered, her voice lacking its usual sharpness and edge. If anything, she sounded awfully quiet for a girl of her standing.

“Don't approach it like it's a blueprint.” came the reply in a similar tone.

Their hands moved together again, the clay slowly beginning to curve into something vaguely usable, and Kyoshi realized she still hadn’t pulled away. Not even a bit. Her cheek hovered far too close to Rangi’s temple. She could see the strands of hair that escaped her rushed attempt to tie it back, the slope of her jaw. Even the way tension lined her neck. However, she made no attempt to pull away either. 

“That’s more like it,” Kyoshi said finally, her voice steadier than her legs.

Rangi hummed, but Kyoshi wasn’t sure if it was acknowledgement or just a methodical hum. “It’s not that difficult.” 

The fan buzzed somewhere high in the corner. A glaze jar clinked softly against the shelf as the heat shifted through the room. Kyoshi’s hand eventually slipped away, and she stepped back. For a moment, neither of them said anything. 

“I don’t think we should –”

“You can stop if you want to for –”

The sentences were aimed at each other at the same time, and it ended up in mutual laughter. Kyoshi felt a little lightheaded. “I’m so over the summer weather,” she quickly added after their interrupted attempt to talk to each other.

Rangi nodded in approval, wiping her palms on a dirty rag.

The days slowly shuffled into weeks – weeks that all looked the same. Studying, working, sleeping, Rangi. It made Kyoshi forget about all her troubles anytime they were at the studio – there was no more work stress and complaints about her annoying manager, no complaints about the exams that gutted her, and definitely nothing said or thought about Yun. 

Only on her walk home did she ever think about him – which is exactly when she texted him back. Their conversations turned short and snappy, a little lifeless. Just general life updates, both of them claiming to be tired and working on something ‘big’. 

However, Kyoshi was the furthest thing from tired – despite everything that was going on, she was strangely motivated and energized all the time. She was offered a lot of space to talk about her instincts when it came to shaping her pieces and Rangi’s point of view almost always seemed to be the exact opposite. Where she engaged in university work with uncertainty and the bliss of letting her piece whatever she was going to be, Rangi always had many plans and ideas when it came to execution. It seemed to be the perfect balance. 

They eventually started using the whiteboard in the studio, too. Half-sketched equations were still somewhat visible from the previous days – already erased, but its ghost lingering. Rangi drew angular diagrams almost like it was a talent on its own, picking strengths and weaknesses in Kyoshi’s vision and the reality of the sculpture, circling areas she thought could anchor the flow of the piece better, using complicated terminology that Kyoshi didn’t always understand.

Some nights, when the chairs were too uncomfortable, they sat on the floor – lacking the energy to do anything special, they just drew. Worked on the same image, handing it back and forth – both of them given one minute at a time to draw. It always ended in something chaotic and funny, until Kyoshi was tearing up from laughing and Rangi snorted. The mismatched style was a part of the charm, and it didn’t turn out terrible once.

Even when both of them had different ideas for the day, different duties to look after, they still did it together. Side by side, close enough for their knees and elbows to bump.

The earbud cord stretched between them, looping over Rangi’s notebook and half-dragging across Kyoshi’s sketchbook. Every few seconds, one of them would tug it accidentally – Rangi flipping a page too hard, Kyoshi shifting her knee while she drew. That meant the earbud would threaten to pop out of one of their ears at almost all times.

“Stop moving,” Rangi muttered without looking up from her notes, adjusting the cord with a swift, practiced flick of her fingers. 

Kyoshi grinned, the mechanical pencil tapping against the paper. “You’re the one who's moving too much.”

“I’m studying. You’re flailing like a – ” Rangi made a vague, exasperated motion at Kyoshi, nearly dislodging the cord again. Kyoshi snickered under her breath, low enough not to disturb the faint music threading between them.

It was a soft, rhythmic track Rangi had picked, no lyrics. Something steady and calm, a far cry from Kyoshi’s go-to working songs. She didn’t mind it though – or at least, not like this.

Occasionally glancing to the side, Rangi’s hair was slipping from the tie again, some strands brushing her cheek as she leaned forward. This had been a recurring theme as well – Kyoshi’s eyes lingering longer than normal.

Of course, anytime she noticed her stare, her gaze dropped back to the paper, and to aggressively shading a corner that absolutely did not need it.

When she turned a page in her sketchbook, the line of the cord tugged gently between them, reminding her that Rangi was close enough. Not like she could ever ignore the heat that radiated from her body.

The next song started up without any warning – loud, poppy, and uncharacteristic for Rangi.

Kyoshi blinked at the sudden shift. She tilted her head a little. “This,” she said, voice filled with the kind of awe she reserved for catastrophic discoveries, “is what you listen to?” 

Rangi’s pen froze mid-sentence. Her entire body went rigid, like she’d just been caught committing to some deep, personal crimes. She didn’t meet Kyoshi’s gaze, eyes locked stiffly on her notebook, as if ignoring the situation would make it evaporate.

“It’s a random shuffle,” she replied slowly, trying her best not to show her flush.

“I vaguely recall that you said you’d start your liked playlist.” 

Still no looks – Kyoshi’s grin widened.

“You’re secretly jamming to – who is this again?” 

“I’m not jamming ,” Rangi snapped quickly, jabbing her notebook with her pen. 

“You love this cheesy pop trash,” Kyoshi continued, laughing out loud. “Admit it. You blast it when you clean your room. You probably even know all the lyrics.” 

No answer.

“Do you dance?” she pushed, gasping for air. “Tell me you dance.”

That finally earned the death glare – sharp enough to silence Kyoshi for half a second, before she dissolved into another fit of laughter. Next to her, Rangi exhaled through her nose, carefully unplugging the earbuds. They were dropped onto the table with a clatter.  

“You just lost your music listening privileges,” she said flatly, her ears pink.

“Worth it,” Kyoshi wheezed, clutching her stomach. 

Despite herself – despite everything , Rangi’s mouth twitched just the tiniest bit before she buried it underneath her stone-y visage. “Just so you know,” she returned to the topic, “Pop music is very good for workouts. Fast rhythm improves heart endurace – that’s scientifically proven, not that you’d know.” 

Just when she finally stopped, Kyoshi’s laughing fit returned too. “You mean to tell me that – Dua Lipa is a part of your sacred training methods?”

There was no reason for Rangi to keep talking – it only seemed to worsen the situation. Kyoshi stood up from the table, her back leaned against the nearest wall, a stupid grin stretched across her face. 

Kyoshi couldn't help but think that Rangi's embarrassment over something so irrelevant was simply adorable.

A scrape here, a rub there – the space was quiet outside of the whirring of the overhead fan, and the tools cluttering against the wood every now and then. Bent over her latest piece, her eyes strained from focusing so hard, fingertips holding the back of the sculpture to keep it steady, Kyoshi felt lost in thought.

What was the aim of this piece? She asked herself regularly. 

The image was vivid in her mind – but when she sketched it, it always somehow fell short. Perhaps it was the dimension that made it look different. Or the lack of colors. However, every single time it was the same thing.

A bust sculpture – shoulders in intricate angles, a fist wrapped around its throat, the other ripping something away. Flowers. So many flowers. 

That’s what she was working on right now. Her eyes jumped back and forth between her phone and the clay, slowly carving petals and other additionals, like stems and leaves and stigmas. One stretch and her fingers quiver – she hears a shift behind her ears, and it puts her mind at ease. 

Streaks of drying clay smudged across Kyoshi’s arms, her shirt, even the side of her face. She didn’t notice when she dragged the back of her hand over her face – it was a tired, absent-minded gesture – leaving a pale smudge across the corner of her lip, trailing down to her chin. 

It will come together, she thought to herself, Once it is glazed and burnt, it will come together.  

“You’re unusually qui –”

Mid sentence, Rangi paused. Kyoshi hummed.

“What?”

Oh no. The steps meant something bad – she heard the rustle of her clothes, the direction she approached her from, and Kyoshi almost didn’t want to turn around. Straightening her spine with a stretch, she looked up at Rangi, confused by the silence and expecting the worst.

It was a fatal mistake – looking up.

Rangi approached, carefully, her eyes flicking briefly down. “Hold still. You have…”

She didn't finish. Instead, her hands closed in – painfully slowly, one tilting Kyoshi’s chin up with the lightest pressure up to the overhead light, a touch so unexpected her brain immediately short-circuited.

The other hand came up, the pad of her thumb brushing against the corner of her mouth, slow but sure, wiping away the smudge of clay she didn’t even know was there to begin with. 

Kyoshi’s breath hitched – it was barely audible, but definitely loud enough in the silence of the studio for Rangi to hear. Everything around them stilled, the fans fading into a soft hum. Kyoshi felt her heart slamming against her ribcage, her whole body wired and thrumming from just that much.

The entire situation was made worse – Rangi’s gaze was pinned to the place her thumb met and sat on her chin, unbearably warm and just as gentle. Kyoshi wanted to say something – anything – but her throat was dry, mind drawn blank. 

“There,” she whispered, the ghost of a smile curling her lips for just a short moment. The light of the overhead bulb cast soft shadows across her face and all details Kyoshi nitpicked over the weeks seemed both amplified and just blurred for everything to stop making sense. “Kyoshi, I…”

It was no surprise that their eyes caught each other’s, leaving a shockwave-like tremble fluttering in Kyoshi’s chest – incredibly hot, dizzying, almost guilty. Rangi’s gaze seemed so confident usually, but a fraction of her brows pulled inwards, as if she was worried now. The quiet focus of her expression usually calmed her down, but now it just messed with Kyoshi’s spiralling thoughts. 

Her hands twitched, and she glanced down, aware that she was still holding onto a piece of flower she was carving – but the clay had become nothing more than weight in her palm. 

There was no saving her anymore. Her body was in Earth’s orbit when Rangi’s thumb moved back on her chin, oh so lightly tapping her lower lip. This wasn’t – it couldn’t… 

“SURPRIIIIISE!” 

The studio door burst open with a bang.  

Kyoshi jolted, tearing her face away from the searing contact. 

Standing in the entrance, holding a box of pastries and drinks were Lek, Wong, Jinpa and Kirima – all four of them rooted in place, eyes comically wide, mouths slightly open.

No one dared to say anything. It was like they walked into a crime scene and instantly regretted it.

Lek’s eyebrows were somewhere near his hairline. Wong’s mouth opened and closed, words lost on him. Jinpa’s eyes masterfully avoided contact, looking at the ceiling as if he didn’t acknowledge it, it couldn’t be real. Kirima’s mouth turned into a scowl – and she stayed silent.

Rangi took a step back. Kyoshi’s eyes were pinned to the floor. No one moved. No one breathed.

“Soo… We brought some snacks,” Kirima broke the silence, clearing her throat loudly. 

“For everyone,” Jinpa added hastily, tapping the box lightly.

Lek just kept staring, eyes darting between Kyoshi and Rangi. 

“I’m… going to wash my hands,” Rangi muttered, turning on her heel and marching outside of the studio, almost tipping the newcomers up. 

“WHAT –” Lek yelled, bolting up to Kyoshi, grabbing her by the collar. “ – was THAT? ” 

“You –” Kirima doubled over, coming dangerously close. “Kyoshi, this is not good. What are you –” she buried her head in her palm, groaning in pain. “Are you in your right mind?!” 

“It wasn’t –” Kyoshi flailed, practically saying goodbye to all of her progress that evening as she dropped everything from her hands. “We weren’t! It was – I accidentally smudged clay across my face and.. she was just –” 

“Oh we saw, ” Wong chimed in, both eyebrows raised, folding his arms like a judge waiting to hand down a life sentence on her. 

“We are friends,” Kyoshi mumbled into her palms, “It’s normal guys. She would have done it for anyone. Literally anyone. ”

“Oh yeah,” Lek said, tone dripping in sarcasm. “Totally normal. Hey, Wong – Come here,” he puckered up, imitating what he just saw. “Let me lovingly wipe some clay off your lips too.” 

“Stop that,” Kyoshi protested weakly, heat creeping up her neck. “Please.” 

“You were going to melt into a puddle,” Lek glanced back at her, “Kyoshi, you’re stealing my crush. Have you forgotten that you’re taken? ” 

She wanted to wail. Everything happened too quickly.

When the door creaked behind them, everyone straightened, looking suspiciously casual. Rangi dried her hands on a paper towel, throwing it out as she entered. 

“What were you guys talking about?” Rangi asked, raising a brow.

Everyone in the room yelled.

“Nothing!” 

Kyoshi felt Lek’s arm twirling around her neck as his voice echoed in her mind, “You’re so screwed, dude.” 

Kyoshi wasn’t thinking. Not really. She couldn’t think – not after the way the world had tilted on its axis, making her fall over.

It wasn’t supposed to feel like that.

By the time she was outside Yun’s building after spam-calling him and getting him to agree to her sudden visit, night had fallen into a heavy kind of summer evening, the humid air clinging to her skin uncomfortably. Her hands trembled as she pressed the buzzer – a feeling she despised. Everything was too much.

When he answered, his voice cracked through the intercom. “Kyoshi?”

She didn’t wait. She didn’t even answer. She just pushed the door open when it buzzed and made her way up the stairs two at a time, breathless not as much from moving as from the things she couldn’t pinpoint with clarity.

Yun opened his door just as she reached it – he looked surprised, ready for bed. They hadn’t seen much of each other these past weeks – of course not, as Kyoshi spent all of her time in the studio, working and studying and everything else she wasn’t ashamed of using to cover up the things that made her uncomfortable about her life. 

She didn’t give him time to ask questions – simply crashed into him the moment the door clicked shut behind them, her arms winding desperately around his neck, clutching at him like he was the only steady thing left in her universe.

Probably because he was.

Yun staggered back half a step, startled, but then his arm wrapped around her in return, slow and unsure. He breathed a laugh. “Hey – hey, ” he hummed with caution, “What’s this about? Are you okay?”

Her throat was dry. She pressed her face into his shoulder, breathing him in deeply – soap, the lingering remnants of cologne on his shirt, the familiarity of something she knew so well. 

Yun was safe. Yun was simple. Yun made sense.

If she could just hold onto him tight enough, the storm in her chest would finally die down. Maybe the shame that curled in her stomach would finally wither away. Maybe she could forget the way her hands trembled earlier – the way her heart skipped and failed her.

His hands ran down her back, soothing in motion. “Rough day?” he asked, soft, even a little teasing. “I don’t think you’ve ever come to me this late.” 

Kyoshi nodded as if she was muted – gripping the back of his shirt like a lifeline. She didn’t – couldn’t trust her voice. Instead, she tilted her head up, seeking his mouth with something desperate, something frantic, as if kissing Yun hard enough, pulling him close enough would magically solve the trouble she got into. 

“Woah – hey,” he was caught off guard by the intensity – even struggled to keep up first, which made Kyoshi chuckle into their shared kiss. This time it was her initiation – her control, and she didn’t let him hesitate at all. She dropped her bag with a thud and started off in a direction she knew very well.

The room bathed in heavy, half-hearted moonlight, creasing across the crumpled sheets she fell onto. Their movements were muted but frantic – fashionable for desperation. Mouths clashed without rhythm, hands tugged and tore fabric, smoothing over skin with urgency that cried please, please, please even if neither dared to be vocal about it.

Yun kissed her like he was trying to pull her back – bittersweet, apologetic about whatever happened to her that she didn’t talk about. Kyoshi let him – she let him anchor her to him, because that’s how it was right. She arched into his touch with more intensity than anytime in the last few months, allowed herself to get swept into the obsession that was him , let herself pretend it was enough.

In the haze of it, her mind betrayed her.

A flash – a different hand brushing her face, a grounding presence always lingering near, the echo of a laugh she could never get bored of. Dark bronze eyes, steady and all-seeing, a gaze that had made her feel seen in a way nothing and no one else ever had.

Kyoshi squeezed her eyes shut, threading her fingers through Yun’s hair, desperate to stay here, with him.

Outside a car passed by, headlights briefly throwing their tangled shadows against the far wall – two figures entwined, indistinguishable from one another for the fraction of a second before slipping back into darkness. Her forehead pressed against his collarbone and she inhaled him, her nails sinking into his skin. 

She was slipping. 

An arm hung loosely over her waist, warm.

A few weeks ago – maybe even a few nights ago, she would have folded herself into his touch without a second thought. She would have drawn comfort from it. 

Now? 

She was confused. 

She shut her eyes tightly, making the conscious decision that this was what she wanted. Yun was everything she could ever ask for, and she was grateful. 

Yet every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was the way Rangi had looked at her earlier that day – the embarrassment that flushed over Kyoshi when she realized her heart thudded so loud she must have heard it. The sensation of her mouth running dry remained, her hands stilling as she lost herself in the moment. 

Kyoshi buried her face into the pillow, her teeth clenched.

She’d stop thinking about it. 

It’s nothing.

It had to be nothing. 

Next Monday came heavy and slow, dragging its weight behind Kyoshi like an invisible cape she was forced to carry.

The studio was empty when she arrived – the morning impossibly sunny and comfortably warm. She slipped inside, greeting the hum of the ventilation system, the familiar scents of clay, dust, and worn wood that served as grounding for her.

Mechanically, she placed her belongings down. Bag, sketchbook, water bottle. Cardigan on the back of the chair.

She looked around, expectation gnawing at her before she could stop herself.

No one.

Her seat across the table was empty, the stool tucked in just so, like it had been untouched since Friday.

Kyoshi sat down slowly, brushing the edge of her sketchbook with absent fingers. She shouldn’t have been surprised. 

Rangi hadn’t texted. She barely ever did – and even when she did, she was so terribly dry. Perhaps she would have taken that now over this deafening silence.

Kyoshi stared at the flower from last Friday, still bearing her fingerprints and the way it bent when her grip tightened. It stared back, confused.

She had thought –

She had thought maybe, maybe Rangi would pretend nothing happened. That they’d slip back into that steady rhythm they’d built in the soft hours between the morning and night, where everything was easy – where Kyoshi’s heart felt too small for her chest.

Instead, she was alone. 

It was a motion she was unaware of when her fist slammed into the table, crushing the twisted flower into dust and crumbled pieces. She wasn’t angry – not really. It was something else. Something that nestled itself between her ribs and feasted on her growing worries.

She pressed her fingers against the only petal made out of clay that stayed intact, then she sighed.

She missed her – so much it left her aching in places she didn’t even know could hurt. 

Chapter Text

A routine.

That was what it had become over time – an unremarkable rhythm that seeped into her bones, her very marrow, resembling the slow and utterly inevitable blink of dawn: wake up, work, study and listen. Investigate. There was nothing too difficult in a life that was defined by precision and purpose – until it had been quietly overtaken, rewritten by the margins and thanks to the absurd and foolish influence of inescapable. A transformation she hadn’t noticed until it was too late. 

Before she knew it, Kyoshi had become the axis her days spun around – a gravitational pull that disrupted the predictable peace of her life. 

It must have been contagious – the absurdity of how easily Rangi had embraced Kyoshi’s presence, shameless and enthusiastic. Like a fever, it had invaded her body – her very soul, without permission, until the stern lines of her existence blurred out. Like watching the sunset through the haze of her eyelashes, something soft, something warm. 

Structure had always been her foundation – order, discipline, control. From childhood, she had been molded into excellence: mastering instruments, dominating her academics, honing her body and mind into a weapon of precision – the pride and joy of her family. Well, whatever was left of it. 

Every accomplishment was a brick in the fortress of her life placed with careful attention. Yet – for all her achievements, there had always been a hollowness, an unspoken void where laughter should have been… Where easy companionship could have flourished, if the light ever seeped in.

The art of connection, she could not master. Politeness, yes. Respect, certainly. But the brash carefreeness and ease of friendship? The kind that required no pretense, no carefully measured words? It eluded her – for a while, she forced herself to think of it as unnecessary, but… It had eventually shifted.

Growing closer to Kyoshi – it wasn’t as though Rangi had suddenly become someone else. She didn’t turn into any more carefree than before, didn’t start laughing at foolish whims and pretentious jokes. But she had noticed – there were moments where the weight of her own expectations towards herself lifted just enough to let in something new. A joke. A roll of her eyes at the jazz and jive that kept Kyoshi kicking, followed by a genuine smile – at first, against her will, eventually growing more and more natural. 

Of course, there was Koulin – ever present, the kind of person who just wouldn’t leave. A constant presence in her life, Rangi never diminished the importance of her loyalty, the fierceness she took care of their friendship with, and the overbearing devotion she loved Rangi with. 

For so long, Rangi had been suffocating without even realizing it – her vision narrowed to always the next milestone and never beyond. Then, Kyoshi happened, and suddenly, her world expanded significantly. 

Without realizing, her feet were taking her in a direction she could have followed blindfolded and deaf. Every single day she’d grown to traverse like this – from the east wing gym, she’d take the curved cobblestone path to the right, turn left twice and pick the secluded corridor that led to the sculpture major’s nook of a studio.

It was a beautiful studio – green, light, rustic in a sense. No sharp edges like what she was used to from the first four years of her studies. No minimalistic designs, no clean execution – this place was always shaped by those who occupied it, and the majority of time, that was broken down into the two of them.

In the beginning, being friends with Kyoshi sounded like nothing more than trouble. Rangi had no similar ambitions – though intrigued, she was content in the role of a faraway inspector who made sure things stayed intact. Being pulled into Kyoshi’s world was the last thing she wanted – and ultimately, it was the last thing she wanted to let go of now.

Carrying a white plastic bag with treats inside – treats she considered an acquired taste, mostly for Kyoshi considering she was very well aware of her terrible eating habits, Rangi picked her pace up. After the evening practice, she had spent an extra thirty minutes running, and she knew she’d have the best sleep tonight.

No knocks – nothing, outside of the flutter in her chest, is audible when she reaches the familiar studio door. Pressing her hand on the metal handle, she notes that the lights are on – anticipation rises, and she can not wait to settle down comfortably for some wind-down chats and light banter. She hadn’t energy for anything else.

A push, and then she’s inside. 

Two steps inside – and her heart sinks.

It is not Kyoshi who’s looking back at her from her usual spot – no.

“Ah,” the light voice sounded, “I thought you’d never come. Small campus, isn’t it?”

As if they were two friends who just happened to run into each other. Rangi’s expression hinted vague hostility.

She immediately knew what his appearance meant. Boundaries have been crossed – so she immediately wondered, just how much did Yun know?

“I guess so.”

That was her answer. Short, level-headed. Even when her fingers clenched around the plastic bag’s ears. 

His voice is unsettling and easy as he tilts his head to the side, “She’s not exactly discreet , is she? It is time for us to talk.”

Rangi’s eyebrows pulled together. Yun raised his arms defensively. 

“Now, now. No need to look at me like that, I’m not here to fight. Trust me, you’ll want to hear me out. For her sake .”

The air tensed around them. Though suspicious, Rangi nodded, walking further inside. When she placed the plastic bag on the worktable, Yun smiled – amused. “Isn’t that so sweet of you?” 

She was not in the mood for games. “Cut the chase.”

That only amused him further, his laugh filling the space. “Always so tense,” he mocked, “You would think I’d be the one in the position to be so harsh and cold with you, yet I’m not. I know what you’ve been up to lately, Rangi. I know about your… friendship with Kyoshi. So sit down, and let’s talk.”

“You’re slowing down.”

Click, click, click.

A slide. The rook moved forward on the board.

“I’m thinking,” the voice replied, a hand hovering above the knight. Bronze eyes studied the board closely. 

Her opponent shifted back in his chair casually. “Life’s faster than this.”

“Thankfully, this is just chess,” she arched a brow, her knight crossing across the center. “And not real life.”

The reaction is an amused hum – one half in approval, the other mockery. Click, then one of her pawns fall. “My Father thinks I’m wasting my time here,” he added casually, voice more akin to telling a joke than being serious. 

She glanced up briefly. “This is the best institution with the strongest curriculum. There’s nowhere else to be.”

An elbow leaned against the table, green eyes flickering towards the window. It was raining. “He thinks I should be learning real things. How to cater to his legacy. How to be… better. Deserving of his empire.”

Another pawn moved forward by her fingers methodically. “Dramatic.”

“It’s like what I do is never enough for him,” he flashed a grin, voice cracking.

Two click s, and then she moved her rook. “I’m dropping music,” she hummed idly, “My Mother thinks violin taught me all the discipline it could. She insists on martial arts now – claims it will offer me clarity.”

“Wasted potential,” he lilted in a singsong-y hum, smiling. “I was always looking forward to your concerts. That is when you look the least intimidating.” 

Her lips pressed into a flat, unimpressed line. He moved his rook, tipping over her bishop. 

With a glance up, he adds, “But your Mother’s always right – nothing screams clarity and refinement of one’s self like punching people.” 

She gave him a look. “It wasn’t my choice. And it is less about punching people, more about form.” 

“Is it ever your choice?”

The words floated away, erased by the pitter-patter of the rain. Rangi rolled her shoulders. 

“It’s funny,” he inhaled, “how parents are so keen on teaching us to play by the rules. Follow their lead. Be worthy of the family name…”

She pressed forward, carving herself a path in which she could attack. Despite her best effort, she was always two steps behind.

“But if you do want to win,” he continued, plucking one of her knights, to which she moved a pawn forward, “Wouldn’t it be easier to just…”

The match was lost. His smile was light and easy – harmless, even. He didn’t finish the sentence – the implication was enough through his actions.

“Checkmate.”

A clean sweep, when her queen slid across the board.

For a stretch, she stares at the board. Three steps. That is how far behind she was. 

“You’re never playing fair,” she stood, smoothing her skirt with precision. 

“Or maybe you’re just predictable,” he replied, pushing himself standing with a groan. “Don’t worry, Rangi. You may be better at everything else – but this , you can’t take from me.”

Y U N

A silhouette facing away from him – that is all he could see. Rolling a peculiarly molded dice between his fingertips, the order was set for him.

“Your grades.”

Not a question. A statement.

He stood perfectly still in front of the sheer black desk, the sleeves of his uniform sharply ironed. A damp strand of hair was stuck to his forehead, tousled.

“The top of my class,” came his answer, his voice even.

“And your instructors?”

“They are pleased,” his stomach twisted in dread, “Impressed.”

Though the urge is there to shift, he knows better than to show nerve.

“Are you proud of yourself?”

“Momentarily satisfied, Father,” he said. Not proud. Not arrogant. Simply careful.

The pen clicked. “It seems like you mistake your survival for an achievement,” the silhouette added, “and have forgotten that satisfaction is what small men feel. Do you want to spend the rest of your life being a ladder to someone else’s success?”

His throat tightened. “No, Father.”

“You have potential to be an even greater connoiseur than me,” the voice grew quieter, coaxing. “However, your potential is wasted without control. Ruthlessness served like a clean cut.”

The chair turned around, awfully slowly. Despite it, the figure remained cloaked in darkness. As he leaned forward, his weight grew unbearable.

“People are idiots, and you are better than them. You’ll use their loyalty to get what you want, then carry out my will. Our will.” 

More of a boy than a man, he questioned, “And if I don’t?”

His Father laughed. It was indulgent. 

“You will.”

There was no other shape his life could take. 

The words sank into his mind like stones into the water. Whether he liked it or not, he was drowning alongside those stones. Somewhere deep down, a part of him enjoyed the idea of his future as depicted – to be sharp enough so that no one could hurt him. To be the strongest. A terrible, almost guilty part of him wanted to win – told him he deserved to win. He was better, better than any and all of them.

“Yes, Father.”

A deep bow – perfect in posture and precise in angle, then he was walking out the door. He’d seen what submission did to people – like his foolish Mother, or all of his peers. Playing someone else’s game wasn’t Yun’s style – so, he wouldn’t. 

R A N G I

As much as she preferred her solitude, her life was infested. First went her feet, carefully approaching the corner – then came her head, peeking around the corner. Holding onto her bag with one hand, the coast seemed clear. 

There was no surprise it seemed clear. 

The ambush came from behind.

“Rangi!” the voice screamed, upbeat and much like a shrill, before an arm twirled around her neck and a body slammed into hers. “What were you up to? Where are you goiiing?”

The interrogation began. Tentatively, Rangi’s eyes shifted to the side – Ming-Yue. Obnoxiously loud with the tendency to brag and beg. She sighed. 

“To have my lunch,” she replied shortly, peeling the girl off herself, the charms on her bag clattering by the motion. Ming-Yue smelled like citrus and vanilla with the faintest undertone of tuberoses and always took care of her nails. High energy, she was a popular girl with an unreasonable fondness for Rangi. 

She gasped. “Without me? Look, look,” she raised her bag, “I brought lunch too! If you ask me nicely, I’ll give you my fortune cookie.”

“I don’t want your fortune cookie,” two steps forward, and the girl launched after her, grabbing her hand. Rangi’s eyelids squeezed together. 

“You’re always so cold,” she faux-cried, making a scene. “Would it really hurt you to smile for once?”

There’s not enough time for her to answer. Another face – similarly familiar also happened to have the same idea as them. Before Rangi knew, Koulin was also standing around them, her hair tousled by the sprint. “Neither of you bothered to text the group chat?!” she questioned, and Rangi attempted to pull free again.

Of course, there was no hold she couldn’t escape – but this one, she didn’t want to. Ming-Yue’s hands were warm – and a little wet from sweat. Normally she’d flick away someone who was touching her without remorse, but her… well, she couldn’t. 

“Rangi was going to eat without us ,” the girl recalled as if she had just committed a felony. This time Rangi did try a little to break away. No luck. The iron grasp remained. Koulin and Ming-Yue cried together – any reason to pout proved to be good enough for them.

“How heartless,” Koulin agreed, fishing her phone out from her pocket, “I’ll call Yien. I think she has a free period now! How fun,” and with that, she took a step back. “It’s been forever since we all ate together.”

Ming-Yue agreed heartily – and the moment they were left alone, Koulin just far enough outside of the ear shot, Rangi felt fingertips brushing her knuckles. “You’re always so busy,” the girl whispered, making Rangi glance back to face her.

No further words were exchanged for a few moments. Rangi eyed the girl up and down, a pink flush creeping across her features, the look reciprocated. It wasn’t even her own voice when she returned the brush on the knuckles and hummed, “I’m sorry.” 

Doe eyes and speckled freckles stared back at her, a smile blooming on the girl’s lips. One step closer – from the outside, nothing special. Hands held each others, and Ming-Yue, the siren , the man-eater, the heartstealer muttered a secret only for Rangi to hear, 

“I wish I could kiss you right now.”

Rangi just wanted a peaceful lunch-break.

Now, she knew not even sleep would come easy after this.

* * *

“It’s so nice to be here with you girls,” the fourth girl exclaimed, shooting a sharp look at Rangi. “Thanks for the invite. ”

“She didn’t invite any of us,” Koulin explained quickly, stuffing an egg roll into her mouth. “That’s not even the surprising part,” pointing her chopsticks at Rangi, she continued, “It is more shocking to find you sneaking around.”

“For the third time,” Rangi closed her eyes, “I wasn’t sneaking anywhere. I headed to the Cafeteria because I don’t have a class right now. It was cancelled.”

“ Right ,” Ming-Yue intervened, “You could have sent a message regardless! Don’t you like eating with us?”

Three pairs of sparkling eyes stared at her. Rangi remained wordless, squeezing a piece of tofu between her own chopsticks. Apparently this act of silence was outrageous.

“Apparently she doesn’t,” Yien sighed, leaning her head onto Koulin’s shoulder. “You’ll always eat with me, right Koulin?”

“Of course,” she wrapped an arm around her friend, and the two shared a long hug while laughing. They squeezed each other out of affection, giggling away. 

“Hey now,” Ming-Yue pouted, “What about me?”

“You’re invited too,” Koulin reached her hand across the table, squeezing the other girl’s long fingers. Ming-Yue beamed, and this was enough of an explanation as to why Rangi didn’t prefer to eat with them.

“By the way,” Miss Popular picked her food, shoving it around the box, “I’m curious about your opinion. All of you.”

Yes. That side-glance even meant Rangi. Koulin slowed down, and Yien picked up her glass of water.

“I wasn’t sure if I should tell anyone about it,” she hummed, voice lower and lacking its usual shine, “But it’s probably safe with you. You’re my closest friends anyways.”

A few words of reassurance, and Ming-Yue sighed again. “So last week, while I was waiting for one of my classmates outside of the library…” she came to a sudden stop, eyeing her food. “How should I say it… Yun approached me.”

Rangi turned her head to the side. They all knew this would pull a reaction out of her, because –

“You’ve been friends for many years now, right?” she hesitated, avoiding Rangi’s eyes. “Before you misunderstand anything – he was really nice to me! Though we have never talked too much, he knew about the… violin concerts I’ve been performing at, and he complimented me on it.” 

Rangi’s eyebrows pulled together. “Said that I look elegant and my play’s a dream that tugs on everyone’s heartstrings. Corny, isn’t it?”

Ming-Yue giggled, but it was out of habit, not genuine entertainment. “He was really sweet about it, and –”

“That’s great news!” Yien shot up, eyes blown wider. “Yun’s – he’s great . As far as I know, he’s a prodigy, talented at anything he puts his mind to. Top of his class, physically fit, comes from a prestigious family… Why do you look so sad, Ming-Yue?”

“I’m not sad, ” she stated firmly, “Just… confused. Mostly because,” another short pause, and Rangi saw the way she bit her lower lip. It almost bled. “I’m not really looking for anything right now. I’m… crushing on someone else. I wanted to ask you – how should I reject him?”

That blew Koulin and Yien outside of Earth’s atmosphere – and Rangi looked away, straight into the other direction. They willfully ignored the last part. 

“Who?! Who?!” they shrieked, and she continued eating. “Ming-Yue, it is girl codex to spill on crushes. Who is he? Is he tall? What sports does he play? Or is he one who focuses on his studies more? No, no, knowing you, you like the sports guys. Tell us!”

Every single sentence was swapped between the two of them, and Rangi was so glad that there wasn’t a moment of silence, given her heart surely would have betrayed her now. 

“I can’t tell you,” she laughed, covering her mouth. “ He doesn’t know it yet. I don’t want rumors to start.”

Any crumble of information that was offered seemed to have pushed the two girls in front of them further. Rangi cleared her throat as they insisted.

“Leave it be, you two,” she shot a look at both of them, then glanced over to Ming-Yue. “And you – reject him straightforwardly if you’re not interested. I really don’t want to listen to him crying about you.”

That seemed to have drawn out her smile again. She nodded, “I will.”

Koulin leaned forward, “As for your crush… I hope everything turns out well. It would be so exciting if you got a boyfriend! Though don’t forget, first he needs to gain our approval so he doesn’t treat you wrong!”

Oh, and how she smiled. In mere moments, the conversation trailed back to the previous state of chaos, making Rangi feel… lighter . A knee bumped into hers under the table, and she felt a smile coming over her too.

Y U N

The training hall smelled vaguely of linseed oil and chalk, as well as the characteristic scent of worn mats. A crowd had gathered on the bleachers, students with nothing better to do at the end of the day. Mostly there for him – and a little for her. Their distant chatter was nothing more than a murmur.

Across from him stood a friend and a foe all in one wearing a crisp white gi, sleeves hugging her lower arms. His own gi was looser, more casual – a vaguely familiar voice screamed his name, and he couldn’t help but momentarily give in to it. He deserved this.

One of the many watching girls reddened when his eyes turned to the crowd and he winked with ease, making her giggle. It was a part of the show, and now wasn’t the time to relax.

Though he was perfectly capable of putting on a play, his attention never left Rangi.

The instructor called start – they bowed deeply, fist against the straight hand, and then the match began.

Yun lunged first, quick and efficient, a jab to test her guard – in return, Rangi pivoted, light on her feet, and for a moment Yun felt like she pulled the world from underneath his feet. His momentum was redirected with a brush of her palm, and worst of all, she made it look effortless.

He stumbled half a step, “Still showing off?” – the laugh came from under his breath.

“You’re distracted and it makes you sloppy,” she returned it quickly, lowering herself into a seamlessly perfect stance. A flurry of blows was the reaction to her taunt, his feints woven into real strikes. 

Rangi was ahead of him.

She caught his wrist mid-air, and with a simple shift of her hips, threw him clean off the center of gravity, sending him sprawling. The crowd gasped – momentarily on the ground, his attention slid to them, most importantly the girl in the front row, cheering real loud for her. Rangi’s usual circle was there, too, but screaming significantly less.

That was interesting.

Rolling back to his feet, he grinned. “Very good,” he said, breathless, much more with admiration than anger. He didn’t expect anything less of her, and this was the only thing that would always remain the same about Rangi. She was where her heart was.

She shrugged, shifting back into the stance she honed to perfection. That gaze of hers burnt a hole into his head.

This time Rangi lunged forward, low and fast, aiming for his legs. Yun leapt over her, however, the moment he landed, he realized she was still reading him. Her weight shifted under him just enough to collapse his balance again. Another set of wild screams, and now he was starting to get annoyed. Being humiliated like this wasn’t a part of his plan.

Staring up at the rafters from the ground, he wheezed – when Rangi offered him a hand to help him up, just for her to hear, he spoke. “I was looking to ask a favor from you,” he smiled, earnestly nodding his head as he shifted back into position. It was annoying to keep wearing this mask.

Rangi tilted her head. “What is it?”

“What kind of snacks does your friend like over there?”

He follows where her eyes move. A glint he’s never noticed before appears for a split moment, then she is back to her usual self. Well… Her usual self, with her eyebrows pulled together now. “Why?” 

Yun shrugged, faking it as a roll that was supposed to warm his shoulders up. “She’s cute – I was thinking about asking her out.” 

The ghost of a smile passed Rangi’s face. She shook her head. “No need to humiliate yourself further,” she rasped, “As far as I know she’s into someone already.”

Very interesting.  

Was it not for the defensive edge in her voice, he would have bought it too. Yun hummed. “I can take no for an answer – but I usually get what I want, so tell me anyways.”

Oh, what a scowl he received for that. “You can fool around with whoever you want to,” she added, and when Yun lunged forward, she blocked it with ease. He stumbled sideways. “But leave my friends be. They’re not assets.”

Rangi was a genius, no doubt. Yun was perfectly aware that his carefully crafted facade was not working on Rangi – after all, she’d known him all their lives. And they lived a joint life, together almost everywhere. She knew a lot, but he did too.

There is no hesitation when she strikes again – this time, feeling less like a spar and more like an action with a real meaning behind it. The air barely split past his ear. “Take it easy,” he laughed with a breath, “It’s just an innocent crush. I’ve been looking at her for a while now.”

A leg swept low. She hopped over it – their bodies flowed around one another like a practiced dance. The crowd was unusually quiet, almost as if they wanted to listen to their whispers. “There are plenty of girls in this school,” Rangi replied swiftly, “You’re not in her league.”

They clashed again – palm against fist, block and strike. At last, even though anger had flown through him like poison, he finally caught her off balance for a split second, tipping her over with a classic jab-kick combo. “You mean she’s not in my league,” he replied, teeth gritted and pride flared across his face, “It’s fine. Don’t help me then,” another perfected smile, and he pulled her up from the ground. “You know I am right. I’ll have what I want. Always.” 

Rangi bowed stiffly first as the instructor called it the end. Yun followed. Looking at the ground, she whispered, “Your Father is getting into your head again,” and that made him scoff. When he rose, his smile was easy. “Do not go near her. That is if you respect our friendship, Yun.”

To the outside, none of this was audible. Not even visible. 

They turned and walked the mat together, like two friends. Yun glanced at her. “You’re lucky we’ve been friends for as long as we have,” his voice was low like a warning, “Otherwise who knows what might have happened to you after a statement like this.”

Now she scoffed. 

Gods , she was annoying. The only person who dared to stand in his way, and simultaneously, she was also the one he couldn’t have the heart to weed out and discard like everyone else.

The cloying sweetness of honeysuckle and the amber glow of the floating paper lanterns made their summer evening feel warm. A string-quartet strung a low, heart-wrenching melody in the distance and the muttrr of distant voices drifted from behind the hedges trimmed for the occasion. White silk was draped and hung from top to the bottom, expensive jewels catching the faint light of the evening. It was an evening that was just mild enough to be enjoyable, perfect for a good drink that warmed one up from the inside.

Though, Yun’s preference laid in other things. On his side, Ming-Yue’s laughter sounded like delicate bells.

She was a radiant girl – a splash of soft, natural color among the lacquered elegance of the gala. Her freckled cheeks glowed, long brown hair half-up and half-curled in flowing spirals, shimmering with highlights of gold and glitter in the lantern light. Above all those things, her eyes stood out the most – velvety eyelashes and doe-like eyes, deep brown, sparkling with genuine interest. 

Dressed in a peach chiffon dress, off-shoulder, the material layered like petals, a thin silk ribbon cinched and accentuated her waist, a line of glimmering pearls dancing along the hem. Everything about her belonged in a watercolor painting – and thankfully, Yun was quite the skilled painter. She was soft, floral, elegant. 

Walking besides her, the shadow of the hedge’s leaves displayed a ripple-like effect on his suit – deep navy in color with a white tie. “So,” he said, fingers loose in his pocket, “Have you been wondering who the ‘silent sponsor’ might be who funded this perfect night? And – as far as I’m aware, the entire exhibit on the Song Dynasty as well.”

She straightened her back and laughed, “You sound like you’re about to narrate a documentary. Do you know any secrets?” 

Yun’s charm was boyish. He looked at her sideways, smiling back. “Are you any good at keeping them?” 

Another shrill – “Of course I am! I’m as silent as a grave,” she returned it, fixing a stray lock of hair with effortless precision. 

“My Father bought the collection privately. Transferred it to the gallery under three layers of shell companies like a philanthropic gift. It’s quite generous of him, isn’t it?” 

Ming-Yue’s jaw visibly dropped, her eyes blown wide. ”What? ” 

“He let a rival collector spend two years bidding for the same pieces. Watched him raise the market value by chasing it like a fool… Then, when it was time, he swept the whole thing for half the original price, because of the auction’s house debts. He practically saved them.” 

A blink, two. “Wait – wait, really?” her voice went high, eyebrows drawn together in worry. “Is that legal?” 

Yun grinned. “Of course it is.” 

An excited gasp-laugh bubbled from her throat as she covered her mouth. “That’s crazy,” she hummed, impressed – perhaps even thrilled. This act seemed glamorous to her, he could tell from the outside. On his sleeve, a warm hand landed. “Your Father is… terrifying.” 

“He’s who people hire when they want to be Gods,” Yun said, matter-of-fact.

A small, dramatic shiver ran down his partner’s spine. “That sounds like it’s those –” she paused for a second, and when she next talked, even her eyes smiled, “Those billionaire characters from drama shows.”

Walking slowly, they stopped by a white stone bench. The garden opened slightly, the space unoccupied now. White petals laid scattered on the grass, intentionally. Yun tilted his head. “Do you want to know the best part?” he piqued, and she nodded. “There was a rumor about one of the exhibit’s pieces being a forged replacement – a fake. It was supposed to plummet the market value – a strategic action by other investors who wanted the collection for less money. He allowed the rumor to spread – then, once the collection was his, he hired these professional pottery-experts to review every single curated piece top to bottom and inside out. Turns out,” he shrugged lightly, “They were all real. Worth even more than those experts originally estimated.”

As the story progressed, the girl’s grin grew wider. “Oh my god. That’s insane! How do you even think like that?” 

With a laugh, he looked down. “He’s quite the man indeed – often tells me I’m going to be able to fill his shoes one day. I pride myself on being a people person – others can safely put their trust into me, and under my guidance, everything turns out alright. My Father is a great man – and I’m working hard to be worthy of his legacy.” 

Ming-Yue tilted her head, suddenly looking equally as curious as playful. “And do you want that too?” 

Yun paused just long enough. “Sometimes,” he exhaled, “You know, it’s the only thing that feels right. I’ll continue pursuing arts and learning more about how I can carve my own way with my Father’s guidance.” 

She looked at him for just the length of a heartbeat – genuinely, sweetly, giving him a soft smile. “I think everything you want will be yours, and more,” she whispered, and that piqued his interest. 

Of course, there was nothing else he could do – but return the smile. Stepping slightly closer, their conversation was nestled within the circle of the low light the nearest lantern offered. “Do you really think so?” he asked, voice hushed like a confession. “That everything I want will come to me?” 

Ming-Yue shrugged, her smile playful. “Well, you’re already half-way there. Everyone likes you. You’re so – charming without trying.”

That drew a chuckle out of him. His gaze lowered for a moment. “It definitely helps to have someone listening who’s worth impressing.”

He was just in time to catch the flush on her cheeks, discoloring her almost the same hue as her dress. Yun tilted his head, carrying on. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to let you down of all people. There’s this… light in you – a presence everyone in the room pays attention to.” 

Her laugh is flustered when it chimes – soft, delighted. Just how he wanted it. “Stop, I’ll start floating.” 

“Don’t. In the end, I’ll be the one blamed for it,” his lips quirked, “Rangi would have to pull you down by the ankles, and she’d kill me for it.” 

She laughed harder at that, eyes sparkling. Yun leaned a fraction closer, the silk of his sleeve brushing her bare shoulder. 

“Speaking of Rangi,” he said, his tone lower now, “She’s quite brilliant, isn’t she?”

The mention of Rangi seemed to light her up even further. “Oh, absolutely! She’s – she’s just wonderful at everything. Only if she wasn’t so cold, I’m sure she would be more popular… Though, she’d probably hate that. Actually – knowing her, she’d definitely hate that.” 

Yun nodded slowly, “She’s marvellous. When she was younger, she played the violin like she was tearing everyone’s heart into a million little pieces, then stitched them back together. Tightly.” he smiled, fondness curling his words. “She’s the sharpest person I’ve ever met. Nothing slips by her.”

It seemed like the girl’s head was above the clouds. Fondness he couldn’t recognize previously glimmered in her eyes, and Yun watched her closely. “You, however –” he continued gently, “You feel more alive. She’s like winter – cold, unforgiving, brilliant. You’re like spring – you make things bloom just by being nearby.”

That stunned her. His gaze lingered on the necklace that dipped just slightly over her collarbone, as precious as the pearls that adorned the rest of her clothes. “You’re like – wow,” she mumbled finally, laughing breathily, “Do you talk to everyone like this?” 

Yun’s smile was self-aware. Though she probably had no idea – how could she, after all – there was a reason for everything. His voice lowered further, “Only the ones I like.” 

Her brows arched – “Oh?”  

“Don’t worry,” he said, fingers brushing her sleeve, “It’s not like what you think.”

Another laugh – flattered, slightly confused. He lowered himself slowly onto the white stone bench, looking up at her from below. The Moon was a gorgeous contrast against the softness that she embodied. “Speaking of violin,” he traced back, “Rangi’s not the only one who’s talented. You’re splendid yourself.” 

Ming-Yue’s voice was light as she responded, “Maybe – I’m not as good as I used to be, nor as good as she used to be. Lately I feel like my head’s drowning, and I can focus less and less on playing.” 

A pout. Yun tilted his head back, eyes half-lidded in thought. “Rangi shouldn’t be your level of comparison – she does everything like her life depends on it. What matters is whether you enjoy it or not. Do you enjoy it, Ming-Yue?” 

Another giggle. 

From the distance, a voice called – faint, but firm: “Yun?” 

He looked over his shoulder.

Rangi.

Standing near the trellis, arms loosely crossed over her red dress, silky and sparkling in the moonlight, she was as unreadable as ever. “Your Father’s looking for you,” she stated, walking closer, her eyes trailing just for a moment.

And there it was. That glance of hurt. He smiled. It all made sense.

Theatrically, Yun sighed. “Is he ever not looking for me?”

Rising from the bench, he brushed his sleeves. One last glance towards the enchanting Ming-Yue – appreciative and hinting something she yearned for, he added, “Don’t disappear on me. I’d still like to dance with you later.” 

As he walked away, in the direction of Rangi, he felt two sets of eyes on her. Finally, he had something in his grasp he could fight her with, and that was more valuable than anything else. 

R A N G I

3 months earlier

Spring.

The breeze smelled like lilacs and the whiff of something expensive.

“You’re thinking for too long about it,” he said, a futile attempt to lighten the mood. “Makes me think you’re avoiding giving me an answer.”

Rangi sat on the edge of the stone fountain, her loafers planted squarely against the ground. The private courtyard was empty save for two students. With her spine pulled straight, tie slightly loosened and her blazer folded beside her, Rangi was too stunned to speak. 

For a change, Yun wasn’t pacing. Wasn’t smiling. He stilled, staring into her very soul.

The air vibrated with something that was unspoken and long overdue now.

She blinked. “I heard you.”

When he smiled, it was small. Nothing in comparison to the cocky grin he carried himself with on a normal Tuesday.

“And?”

Rangi was never one to struggle. With a gift to analyze everything to perfection – to be able to beat her peers and competitors with three steps ahead, granted her an untouchable aura. The walls that surrounded her heart were not made out of a sense of superiority – more so discipline that intertwined every crook and cranny of not only her body, but her very soul as well. Looking up at Yun was a struggle now.

“You,” she said, looking him directly into the eye, “are my closest friend.”

“That’s not an answer.”

A sharp exhale, and Rangi found herself rubbing her fingertips together – a habit that came over her rarely.

The sunlight scattered across his navy blue blazer, the school’s golden pin reflecting it proudly. His eyes, impossibly green, were clouded by something she had no words for.

“Rangi,” his voice quaked, “You and I – we balance each other out. You know that. Everyone sees it. You keep me grounded, and I help you out of your shell. Where you’re strategy, I am presentation. It’s… I can’t keep going on like this.”

She shook her head. “We’re just friends, Yun.”

He tilted his head and she could feel every inch his eyes explored. Under the magnifying glass, nothing could remain hidden. 

“I don’t trust people,” he continued, “They consider me charming, smart and one of a kind – but they all lie. They’re just using me and my status. I know that, and that is why I do the same to them. You and I both know this is how the game is meant to be played,” he uttered, stepping closer. “But – you? You’re different. I never have to fake anything when I’m with you. It’s a special kind of freedom.”

Meeting his eyes, Rangi felt a terrible knot in her throat. Twelve years of friendship was their track record – good and bad, but always together. Yun understood where she came from without Rangi having to let her guard down – what was expected of her was expected of him as well. Perfection. Precision. Legacy. Confiding in him was easy, Yun had a solution for everything. 

“That’s partially why I’m saying no,” she added, now straightening the hem of her skirt over and over. It wasn’t like her. 

The shattered disbelief in Yun’s eyes made her stomach twist with guilt. “Why?”

“I don’t think you understand what you want, Yun,” her voice quaked, but she carried on, “You think it is love – but I see it as a mirror. You need someone who reflects yourself back to you – not the ugly nor the parts you’d hide in the shadows, but the front. The mask. The perfect one. It’s to make you look whole.”

He opened his mouth – and she raised her hand.

“I need you to know,” she hurried, “I’m not angry at you. But I know you, Yun. You don’t do things unless there’s a reason. The way you play – it’s smart. Weighing the outcomes, playing for an advantage… But now you’re talking about balance, and it just sounds like an equation you’re proposing.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, his stare relentlessly burning. “So you think I’m incapable of real feelings.”

“What? No!,” she stood, shaking her head, “What I’m saying is – I think you just don’t understand yourself entirely yet.”

The wind shifted. Though the mood was tense, the breeze was mild and flowery. A single petal from a nearby blossoming tree slowly twirled onto his shoulder, resting easy now. 

“There’s no one else I trust,” he repeated himself, softly, “No one knows me like you do. Sees me like you do.”

“And what would that trust look like in a relationship, Yun? What would I be to you?”

Words failed him. Where his gaze slowly fell, hers remained on him, persistent. “I still vividly remember you from before your Father had taken roots,” she recalled softly, “You were everyone’s friend. You weren’t so… scared all the time that someone might stab you in the back. You lived true to yourself.”

Long silence followed. Rangi’s eyes followed his own when he looked down, then back up. 

“I’ll be here for you, as I always have,” Rangi hummed, stepping closer. Though physical contact between the two of them was rare, especially if she initiated it, a comforting hand on his shoulder could help. Or so she thought.

“I have to leave now,” the words were whispered, and she picked the petal off his shoulder. Her words seemed to have woken him up.

“Wait.”

Mid-motion to grab her blazer, she paused. Turned back to face him, expression still woven through worry. 

Without the slightest ounce of anticipation, Yun’s arm reached for her elbow, gentle but firm as he pulled – and then, he kissed her. 

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t earned. It was fast and sudden and deeply ignorant of her preferences and emotions. His lips were pressed to hers for a second – maybe less – before her hands were on his chest.

Shoving him away.

Hard.

He stumbled back a step.

“What the hell was that?” her voice wasn’t loud as she touched her lips, shaking from sheer fury. “You think I said no as a joke? How dare you –?”

Perhaps he wanted to reply. “I –”

“No,” she shut him down immediately, “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.” 

Her eyes reflected a world turned upside down – boundaries crossed, her standing disrespected, personal space and bodily autonomy violated. The frown on her face, she wasn’t able to wipe off, but it stung more to learn that in the end, Rangi was as much of an asset as anyone else to him. How could she think she was any different?

“You crossed a line,” she seethed, “Don’t ever do that again.”

Grabbing her blazer and bag with haste, in mere moments, she was long gone, not once looking back. Was she to stay a few moments more, she would have heard,

“I would have given you everything. You’ll regret this.”

Only, Rangi had no idea how far Yun was willing to go on his journey to get back at her. If anything, she felt heartbroken, having to reject him – she was overall confused because it all happened under her eyes and she didn’t have the slightest idea about it. Bouncing back from what happened to her slowly growing relationship with Ming-Yue proved to be the distraction she needed to cool Yun’s actions down a little bit.

They talked after, once. A short, text-based conversation, in which Rangi asked for time to calm down, and he agreed to give her space. It didn’t feel malicious – in fact, getting Yun to listen was never as easy. Which meant all of her energy could be spent on the things she wished to give priority to without any negativity.

This meant that in the short time-frame between her classes and before her training, she’d be rushing up the steps, all the way to the third floor – the most remote place in the entire school, end of the hallway, girl’s bathroom. It was infamous for all its properties – it was incredibly small, ill-equipped, and only those who went there did not want to be seen elsewhere.

When she’d let her bag slip from her shoulders, its weight was replaced by a slim arm pulling her in by the neck, kissing her until she was breathless, burying her six-feet-under with the batting of those eyelashes and the undeniable lack of innocence reflected in her gaze. Utterly enamored with where their relationship had grown into, as high as it made her feel, Rangi was more cautious than to allow herself to ever slip.

There were rules – for both of them. No public flirting. Nothing overly personal shared in traceable text messages. No prolonged looks, and no prolonged contact where others may see or misunderstand. Their studies and duties came first, and whatever was blooming would always remain secondary.

They’d agreed, just like that. So when the world momentarily glanced away, Ming-Yue surpassed most of her wildest dreams – before her, she was unsure if she ever cared for romances, finding them unnecessary and a waste of time, and now, with her, Rangi sometimes found she couldn’t even recognize herself and the way she looked forward to seeing her. 

Giggles filled her ear, bits-and-pieces of stories, sweet nothings whispered. When they felt daring, they discussed coming out, and when Ming-Yue got self-conscious, Rangi didn’t press it. Combing her hair with her fingers, she’d find a quick and efficient way to reassure her, easing her loud inner saboteur. The very same one that originally told the girl confessing would be a bad idea – and the same one that was silenced anytime their lips touched.

Library dates, cinema dates, walks on the beach and drawing in the sand – anything she thought would be too much ended up being too little, her desire insatiable to see her whenever she was free. It was a summer well-spent – seventeen and more careless than ever. 

When September came around the corner, she no longer held hard feelings for Yun. Reflecting on it for long, she figured that his desperate act was a true last resort, and that despite his disrespect, he was her friend at the end of the day. More times than she could recall, he stood with her, so forgiving him now – it wouldn’t be too hard anymore.

Momentary heaven – blessings following blessings were prone to end one day, she was no fool. There would be a change in the wind – something would feel different, and she’d know to brace herself. 

However, what happened, nothing could ever prepare her for.

It was a rainy afternoon – cold, autumn rain, misting the schoolyard into blurred hues of watercolor grays and greens. The cold had seeped into her bones, it felt like, her sweater soaked and hair slick with dew. She just ran after Ming-Yue – a vision in lilac, very evidently fleeing something that was not real. 

The girl’s sweater clung to her arm – as she paced the concrete, it scuffed her shoes. Turning back and forth, tension radiated off her like never before, and Rangi just wanted to understand why. The rules existed, but seeing her like this was torture.

“Say something,” she croaked, her bronze eyes fixated on the thin figure. 

“I can’t – I can’t do this,” Ming-Yue repeated, her voice louder this time. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now and – I just realized, you don’t understand my fears at all, Rangi. You don’t care what people think about you – but I do.”

“That’s not true,” her brows twitched. Just where was this coming from? 

“You walk around with that facade, like nothing gets to you – like none of this matters. Surprise! It does matter to me,” Ming-Yue waved her arms, grabbing her own hair lightly before letting go with a grunt. “The things people say… God, oh God…”

The girl seemed furious. She turned to face Rangi again. “And my Mother… she would die,” she lowered her voice, “If she knew, she’d kill me and then die. She’d say it’s just a phase and that I’m acting out of rebellion and that I’m an idiot, she’d pull me out of school and send me to be a monastery in the mountains,” Ming-Yue rushed, practically word-vomiting on Rangi with barely any breaths in between.

“Do you think it’s easy for me?” she retorted, and it resulted in the girl’s halt. She stopped pacing.

“Rangi, I didn’t ask for this,” she cried, her voice cracking open. “I didn’t ask for us to happen, I didn’t ask to feel this way… Do you even know what it’s like? Being terrified that someone might find out? That they’ll notice it and start talking?”

She didn’t understand anything it felt like.

“I’m not you,” she went on, her chest heaving, “I can’t pretend I don’t care if people hate me. I’m already barely enough, Rangi – what we have,” she wheezed, her fingers on her chest, “It’s not normal… It’s a mistake. It was a mistake to be with you,” she sobbed, full-on sobbed, pulling back, “I don’t know who I am anymore and it’s your fault!”

Whatever kept her world spinning until now suddenly stopped. Rangi’s heart sank, her eyes blown wide and mind blank. She was no longer sure who it was who moved her body forward, grabbing Ming-Yue by the face to force her to look at Rangi.

“What – just what are you saying now?” she laughed, more so in disbelief than amusement. “I love you,” she added quickly, forcing the tear stained eyes to continue looking. “I love you, and I know that you love me too.”

The girl wildly shook her head, pulling away as if Rangi’s touch burnt her. “I never thought it’d get this far,” she wheezed, “I feel sick whenever I look into the mirror, Rangi! This isn’t me! I’m not some – dyke ,” she spat, turning away. 

Her words punched the oxygen out of her lungs. Taking a few steps back, she was truly speechless for once. When Ming-Yue turns back, she whispers, “I pray every day for this to go away. I’ll pray for you, too, Rangi… This isn’t healthy. I’m so sorry,” she cried, the flesh around her nails picked until it bled. “I should have ignored it – I should have never, ever become your friend! You.. It was you who forced these on me,” she slowly sunk, eventually sitting down on her ankles, face buried in her hand.

Not only was Rangi a mistake, but she was also the one to blame for what Ming-Yue initiated on her own accord. Not only was she a freak, a dyke , and not “normal”, but she also had to have her soul prayed for for salvation. What a joke. She couldn’t do anything other than force herself to watch the ups and downs of Ming-Yue’s shoulder as she sobbed, waiting for something, for anything.

Rangi understood fear. Neither of them had the answer that would best describe their connection, but so long it felt right, they had time to figure it out. As much love as she had for this girl – bright, optimistic, funny and special, it all got corrupted, from one moment to the other. Rangi took a step back.

“Say something,” she begged softly, looking up at her. Her face was distorted – eyes swollen, lips quivering. “Say anything. ”

Rangi frowned. Her walls were made exactly for this. With a deep breath, she composed herself, then replied slowly, “I hope you heal, Ming-Yue.” 

Every word was perfectly pronounced – Rangi knew she wasn’t in the wrong. They were playing it safe, and as far as she was aware, no one knew anything about their closeness. Their intimacy. Were people talking without her ever hearing anything about it? Who got through to Ming-Yue who could spread a word fine enough so that it wouldn’t reach Rangi?

For the second time in a row, another gut-punch. It was no coincidence that the things neither of them had to worry about suddenly became nuanced, brought into the spotlight. A clever twist, and the girl’s insecurities were exposed, perfect for the puppeteer who knew the story he wanted to play by heart.

The desperate sobs continued as Rangi grabbed her bag’s ear – with a click, whatever charms hung off her bag until now clatter ed on the ground, the plastic and ceramics shattering from the sudden impact. 

As cold as the rain was, it didn’t compare to the winter in her heart that came too early. 

Y U N

“There’s a puddle where you’re standing,” laying back in his seat, he was holding a book, not even glancing up at the storm that just approached. “You should get yourself dried up.”

“Who do you think you are?”

Yun rolled his shoulders. “I’m someone who always gets what I want, Rangi.”

Virtually there was nothing she could do to him anymore. Perhaps out of courtesy, he should thank Rangi for pinching him to wake up – it was delusional on his end to believe she’d be the perfect match to the authority and power he resembled. With a thud , he closed the book and looked up. “Did she tell you?”

The look he was given made it evident. Satisfied, he smiled. “Great news,” he noted, “I think her parents will be just delighted to hear about her refined standing. And – perhaps the others won’t be too harsh on her when they learn what she did. Who knows. Teenagers are unpredictable.”

Rangi’s hand clenched. He savored this – her pain, having taken from her the one thing she truly cared about felt right. He hummed, “Why are you looking at me like that? I’ve never seen you so… beaten up.”

No answer. He scoffed. “You’re telling me you really loved her? How foolish,” standing from his seat, he walked closer. “Have you forgotten who you are, Rangi? This isn’t the center of your world. I, on the other hand,” laying a hand on her shoulder, he sincerely nodded. “I have to thank you. If it wasn’t for that sparring match of ours, I would have never noticed. When someone knows what to look for, you’re as obvious as it can get. Smitten.”

Rangi glanced up at him – her eyes were red, water dripping from her hair. Suddenly, Yun felt a grip on his elbow, and then, in mere moments, his world turned upside down. He hit the ground hard.

“I was ready to forgive you,” gritted her teeth, glaring down at him, “Forgive and start over. And you – you had to ruin it,” Rangi inhaled, sharp and desperate, “You’re disgusting. I just want my friend back .”

Yun coughed, slowly filling his lungs with oxygen again. “I’m afraid you killed him,” he whispered, “He was weak and an idiot, just like you are right now. How does it feel, Rangi?”

It was emotional torture to cope with the rejection of his feelings – anyone else he wouldn’t have let off so easily. Rangi, however? When she said no, it was no. He knew, and he tried anyways – and successfully failed as well. Having his desire ripped out of his heart left him bleeding for months, until a solution came to him in his dreams.

Rangi shook her head. Covering her mouth, she stifled a sob. “You’re doomed to be yourself for the rest of your life,” she muttered, “So I won’t hurt you. That’s already a big enough punishment.”

Getting physical could only end bad for her. Slowly sitting up on the ground, Yun grunted. The words echo in his mind – he had successfully taken what he wanted, yet…

It didn’t feel any better. 

Though his metamorphosis had begun, he was not ready yet. The semblance of guilt that lingered in his chest meant he was still human enough – that he still cared for her enough to feel bad about seeing her so broken.

A bittersweet victory.

Sitting across from him in the studio that acted much more like her home than her real home lately, Rangi felt a twist in her stomach she hadn’t in years. As if the sweets were for him, Yun freely grabbed the plastic bag, picking something that suited his taste. “Atrocious,” he exhaled, “Only Kyoshi eats these disgusting dark-chocolate covered soy beans.”

Tossing the package aside, he was looking for something, before Rangi leaned over and ripped the bag out of his hand. “I told you to cut the chase,” she repeated, glaring at him. “What is it that you want?”

Rolling his eyes, he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You’re much more rude than what I remembered,” he commented, sighing eventually. “How long? And you best be honest.”

Rangi deadpanned. “Your intimidation tactics may work on others,” she said dangerously, “But remember, you’re not the only one with power.”

“You’d be surprised,” he replied, repeating, “ How long? ”

“Five months.” 

That was new for him – she could tell. He nodded. “I had no idea Kyoshi was so good at keeping secrets,” he wondered, shaking his head, “Admittedly, I thought she was different from everyone else though. Anything I told her, she took as the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. After our unfortunate gallery run-in, I made sure to reinforce the idea in her that you were really not the cuddly, happy-go-lucky type. That it was best to avoid you – as you probably hate her as much as she should hate you. Of course, she agreed.”

Rangi’s world slowed down. The inhale was slow, exhale drawn out.

“I know you’ve been looking into me and my business,” Yun continued, “Did you think you could figure something else out through her? Is that why you decided to change your ways and be friendly for a change?”

Anything she’d say could and would be used against her. Remaining brief would be in her best interest. “No. I simply do not want the past to repeat itself.”

“ Oh right! It is awfully similar to our senior year, isn’t it?” He reminisced happily, while Rangi scowled.

After her relationship came to an abrupt end, rumors spread like wildfire. Ming-Yue’s reputation was twisted inside out – Yien and Koulin were confused, the prior alienating herself from the group, while the latter came to Rangi’s defense. For a few months at the time, anywhere she went, eyes would stare back at her, voices she wasn’t sure who they belonged to whispered about her, heinous and nasty, and she’d have an especially hard time coming across those doe eyes on the corridor.

As always, Rangi could take it – but watching Ming-Yue suffer was uncalled for. At the time, Yun had similar ideas, as the two of them quickly solidified their relationship, him defending her from the nasty rumors, and her playing the part he wanted in his play. It was wrong on every level possible, watching the show they put on – the fake smiles of the girl she once hushed her confessions to, brushing her hair in the afternoon sunlight.

But there was no stopping. She’d endured it – for months, upon months, upon months, right until their graduation. From one day to another, just like when the semester started, their relationship ended. Worst of all, rumors started surrounding the three of them yet again, only, Ming-Yue disappeared as if she was swallowed by the void. It was a guessing game, whatever happened to her – Rangi’s personal peace would have been fulfilled if she really got to move away from all the unnecessary noise, perhaps into the mountains but not as a nun.

When she’d ask Yun, he wouldn’t know. Just say Ming-Yue was the past already, as she was no longer useful to him. An asset, a tool, a dulled piece of equipment, that is what the girl with the bright eyes became. Having had a promising future ahead of her, even years after the incident, she’d cross Rangi’s mind here and there – 

So ultimately, Rangi stayed silent. The reason for her approach was simple. 

She wouldn’t allow the same thing to happen to Kyoshi. The light she carried nestled between her ribcage was warmer than anything she’d ever experienced, and that alone was enough to put up a fight for. 

“Poor girl,” he clicked his tongue, “I wonder what she’s doing now.”

The knife twisted in her torso. Rangi kept her eyes on Yun. “How’d you figure it out?”

“As I said – Kyoshi’s not very discreet. You must know she’s an excellent photographer. Those candids of you, Rangi? Breathtaking. Takes me back.” 

She swallowed slowly. The festival happened at the beginning of the summer, almost three months ago. This meant that Yun’s been planning this confrontation for quite some time now. No matter how careful she tried to be, it seemed like it was never enough.

“What do you want?”

“Not so quick,” he lilted, returning her stare. “I’m not done reminiscing.”

R A N G I

“Pardon me for a moment,” the woman shifted her weight with effortless poise, the corners of her mouth lifting into a fleeting, sharp smile. “Something requires my attention.”

Three men and a woman nod in unison – hands on the sleeve, they part like silk.

Rangi followed her Mother a few steps away to a quieter alcove overlooking a sculpture installation, far enough so no casual eavesdropper would hear them over the soft music and clinking glasses.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Hei-Ran studied her daughter with a gaze Rangi knew all too well – immovable and scrutinizing, not exactly impatient but heavy with expectation. She’d carried the weight of these eyes ever since she was old enough to walk.

“It’s worse than we thought,” Rangi’s jaw flexed, “He’s using her. The girl,” she exhaled, “Kyoshi – from the reports. She’s not just a simple companion as we figured… It’s more like he’s using her as proof. Or leverage. He parades her around like a trophy, and she doesn’t even see it.”

“Typical,” Hei-Ran murmured, almost to herself. 

“What’s worse is that she’s no regular fool,” Rangi continued, “She fought back.”

That earned a look. Hei-Ran’s gaze sharpened. “Did she?” 

“When I called her out, she didn’t cower. She defended him, even though moments before she was following him around like a lost puppy. Then she was standing in front of him, defending him like her life depended on it. It is safe to assume she’s not only deeply integrated within his lies, but also a vital point of his current cover.”

Her Mother’s lips pressed into a line. “Blind loyalty is dangerous. Worse than open rebellion. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

“It didn’t feel blind,” Rangi couldn’t stop herself as she added, meeting her Mother’s eyes directly and feeling the familiar weight that came with it. Challenge and deference locked together like a blade and its sheath. “It felt like she’s grateful. Although foolish, she does seem to genuinely believe in him and his cause. I’ve seen this before.”

Rangi had not once or twice watched this exact scheme play out as she attended high-school with Yun. Initially from closer, later on from a distance, she was always keenly aware of Yun and his choices when it came to presentation. Although appearing meek, Kyoshi was not only a sight, but also a force to behold. She was the perfect asset for Yun who wanted blind devotion and to enhance his greatest features, and all he had to trade for it was fleeting attention. 

“And Yun?” Hei-Ran asked coolly.

“The same as always. His mask is perfect. Performance calculated. Of course, not a single one of his words is true. He acts like he’s in love with her, but it’s more akin to ownership than genuine affection.”

It is evident that for a moment Rangi’s taken back into the past – a soaked courtyard, the shattering of her own heart. Having to watch the show that followed for months, rendered useless, her eyes glued to the scene.

She had no connection to Kyoshi. No care for her. Yun had done the same to many girls she didn’t care about, either. For their foolishness and blind faith they paid with their emotions and the repercussions that followed by the swift hammer of judgement, wielded by society. 

However, she was older now. It was evident that Yun wasn’t testing the waters any longer – he knew what he wanted, and he knew how to get it as well. Although his Father used to pull the strings, he became his own puppeteer in the meantime, taking control over others and discarding them when they were no longer useful.

For a beat, the undeniable urge to break the cycle appeared in her mind, and she scoffed. It is not the stranger she’d do it for – but more so because Yun deserved to learn that though he feels like he’s on top of the world, there will always be forces above him. All that is honorable and just will always be above him.

Hei-Ran’s fingers on her upper arm yanked her back into reality. “You were young,” she said, almost kindly. “Naivety is not a failure. Refusing to learn from it is. Stop beating yourself up about the past.”

The tightness in Rangi’s chest loosened a little, and she smiled regardless. “I’m not,” she nodded in determination, “I’m thinking how to reveal his true nature so that everyone can see it.”

“Good,” the acknowledgement of tenderness and pride between them fell when her Mother pulled her hand back, her eyes turning back to the crowd. “Trust your instincts and stay sharp. Don’t let sympathy cloud your judgement.”

Returning to the waiting donors with a few clicks of her heels, her Mother was gone. Rangi lingered for a handful of seconds longer, rolling her shoulders and letting herself breathe. Leaving the alcove, she caught sight of Koulin casually leaning against a gallery pedestal, nursing a glass of something that sparkled from a distance. 

“You looked like you were about to punch someone,” the girl said once Rangi was close enough, voice high and teasing, “ Please tell me it was one of the rich ones.” 

Rangi snorted – the tension in her spine easing a little. “Give it some time.” 

* * * 

We’ve kept this school out of scandals for over two decades, Rangi. No major infractions. No negative headlines. No leaks. And it was certainly not by sheer, dumb luck. It was vigilance. Now, I fear it might have cracked.

If any of this becomes public before we understand the scale of it, it’ll bury us. You know how fast these stories spread. ‘Elite university enables corruption from within’, ‘faculty manipulated and students exposed’. Sponsors will pull funding. Parents will stop sending applications. The entirety of the Staff will be investigated, as well as you and me.

I’ve worked too long for that to be our story.

That’s why we’re not going to the board yet. That’s why we’re not filing reports yet. I need evidence. There is no one more capable to extract that evidence than you – someone who knows how he moves and understands what he is. If we thought his Father was a mastermind, we were not ready for him.

Don’t pretend you don’t still think about what he did to you.

A folder thuds on the desk between them.

“Start here.”

Y U N

The world had long dulled into a monotonous hum, a ceaseless drone of predictable faces and sycophantic smiles that made him feel sick. Not only sick – he had grown weary of it all: the adoration, the fear, the desperate attempts of lesser beings attempting to claw their way into his orbit. They were all the same, their desires laid bare like open books, their souls easily bent and wrapped around his will. 

There were no challenges left, no defiance to sharpen his appetite – all thanks to Rangi. 

Yun was grateful.

Once, he might have cared. Once, he might have been foolish enough to believe in something as fragile as sincerity, as laughable as vulnerability. But that boy he used to be was long dead – strangled and drowned by his own naivety, buried where no sentimental ghost of him could linger. The man who stood in his place was sharper, colder, untouchable, just like the figure who shaped him, features lost to the shadows. He had killed his old self willingly, and the world was better off like that.

The world had become a museum of predictable reactions, each encounter more boring than the last. If he had to pick, he would have said parties were the worst – like mundane moths to a gilded flame, people surrounded him, but with no value. He could predict every interaction before they happened – the aspiring artists who complimented his work with trembling voices, hoping for patronage and support. The collectors who laughed too loudly at his remarks, desperate to prove they understood his genius. Even the critics who tried to play hard to get before inevitably folding after a few carefully planted words, their supposed discernment crumbling under the weight of his fearsome reputation.

The conversations became a script he could recite in his sleep. 

Romances were bad, too. He’d long grown tired of the way girls looked at him – first with awe, then hunger, then fear . They were all the same in the end, their individuality sanded down by their desperation to please him. The poet who wrote sonnets about his eyes, the violinist who played for him alone in candlelit rooms, the socialite who pretended disinterest until he spared a glance her way – they blurred together in his memory, interchangeable and painfully unmemorable. 

Even hatred had lost its flavor. The rivals who sneered at his success, the professors who accused him of arrogance, the peers who whispered that he was overrated and hyped for no reason – their venom was dull, their insults recycled and worn out. None of them could touch him. None of them even saw him. They hated the idea of him, a creation of their minds of lies and rumors – only occasionally seeing the shadow he cast, and never the man himself.

Art, at least, had once been a challenge. But even that had begun to feel hollow. Galleries begged for his work, critics fell over themselves to praise it, collectors fought to own it – before he’d even finished a piece. Acutely aware that his sudden rise of fame was partially because of the name he carried, he could see the full picture clearly – he was talented. However, the passion he had for arts had slowly turned into performance, the act of creation reduced to a series of monotonous strokes, crafted to provoke the exact reactions he thought he would get and had grown to despise. 

There had been one – a single person – who had ever truly defied him, whose sharp tongue and sharper mind had carved cracks in his polished armor and flawless image. One who refused to flatter or fear him. An equal in terms of wit, his superior in whatever fleeting empathy she carried herself with, and for a time, the only voice that could make him hesitate – a mirror that reflected back something uglier than the myth he was forging. 

She’d been dismantled, piece by piece, with the precision she swore to live her life by – first undermined, then isolated, the things that she cared for and considered opportunities for more robbed from her grasp. The glimmering light from her eyes gone, he’d long forgotten the chime of her genuine laughter as well.

It was necessary, of course. She had made him feel uncertain – made him question himself, and that was a weakness he could not tolerate anymore. Still, in the hollow quietness that followed, he sometimes caught himself missing the way she cut through his pretenses, the way her honorable way of living made the game worth playing.

Now, there was the stale satisfaction of victory – the gnawing realization that in severing their connection, he had extinguished the last spark that ever made him feel alive, alive like a human…

It was peaceful. 

Truly.

Until her.

She was an anomaly – a flicker of something other in the grayscale tedium of his existence. Tall, with the kind of posture that suggested she spent years folding into herself, shrinking from the attention rather than demanding it. Her skin sun-kissed, not the deliberate bronze of those who he’d see on holiday, lounging on yachts for show, but the natural warmth of someone who worked under the open skies, her freckles like dried specks of paint across her nose and cheeks… There was a flicker of artlessness to her, an unstudied grace that made her seem – infuriatingly, intriguingly unaware of him.

Ultimately that was the thing, wasn’t it? She didn’t know him.

She wasn’t impressed. Intimidated. Not even curious. She was merely there , absorbed in her own world, her long brown hair slipping over her shoulders as she bent over her work.

It fascinated him.

No – it irritated him.

Or was exhilarating a better term for it?

Because after years of being offered not only the moon and the stars, but all the galaxies the entire universe could offer, there was something he could simply not have.

Of course , he could take her. He could sweep in with all the calculated charm he had honed over his years of conquest or he could drown her in the kind of attention that made even the most resistant hearts stutter. But that wasn’t the point – the point was that she didn’t care. That made her a puzzle, a mind that seemed to drift far beyond the reaches of his influence.

He watched her sometimes, from a distance, studying the way she bit her lip in concentration,  the way her brows knit together when something didn’t align with whatever vision lived inside her head. She was a sculptor, the others have said. Not famous – not sought after, barely even noticed. But she was talented. Genuinely talented, in a way that had nothing to do with connections or manipulation. It was raw – raw enough for him to care.

The more he watched her, the clearer it became – she was perfect. Not in the way society would usually define perfection, as there was no polish or poise in her posture, no eagerness to please anyone outside of herself. More so in the way a blank canvas was perfect, the opportunities and outcomes endless. She was unmarked, unspoiled, carried no agenda, no hunger for his influence – utterly clueless of the games people played in his world. 

That, made her invaluable.

Because purity, he had learned, was the rarest gift of all.

In a life built on deception, on alliances forged in mutual greed, there was no such things as truth. Every word could be bought, every loyalty broken. But her? She was untouched by all of it. If she spoke in his favor, no one would doubt her. If she stood by him, no one would question why. There was no artifice – no practiced charm, only simple earnestness, painfully idiotic. A key feature that made her almost charming.

He could shape her. Not just as a conquest, not just as another trophy to prove his own invincibility, tell the world that he could genuinely have everything and everyone he wanted, but as leverage as well. A shield. Someone whose word would be believed precisely because it seemed like she had no reason to lie.

And the best part? He could work it so she gave herself to him, willingly. Blindly.

It wouldn’t be money. She didn’t dress like someone who craved wealth, didn’t carry herself like a girl waiting to be rescued. No, her desires must be quieter, deeper. Recognition, not fame – the kind of validation that came from being seen or who she really was. Perhaps it would even be more simple than that – security. A place in which she could live and create without fear – by the side of a protector, a loved one.

He could be that. Oh, he could be exactly that.

And once she trusted him, once she let him in – it would be so easy to make her love him. Not the calculated, performative love of social climbers he’d be able to tell apart from a single glance, but something real, something devoted.  

To him, it seemed like she was the type of girl who would give everything to someone she believed in.

And he would make sure she believed in him.  

R A N G I

It was supposed to be quick. Easy.

Walking life with a purpose, for her, every action was sharp and calculated – much like a blade drawn with intent, and not a heart laid bare. Words measured, glances deliberate, actions concise. She was not one to stumble, let alone fall , the messiness of longing and vulnerability long buried by thousands of different tasks, different duties.

Yet, here she was. Undone.

It had crept in on her like dusk on a carefree spring day – soft and inevitable, coloring the edges of her resolve until she could no longer tell where her own will ended and the aching began. 

Kyoshi was sunlight spilling through her fingers – as impossible to hold as she was to ignore. It all started with the intention to learn more about Yun and his misconduct which led her to places she wouldn’t have been usually – overhearing a library conversation that wasn’t her business, taking the long way home after a particularly exhausting training, spending lunch-time together because she’s caught a whiff of his absence.

In comparison, they were small things – however, Rangi had no idea that every confused tilt of Kyoshi’s head, every flicker of her gaze, torn and unsure, would send fissures through the careful architecture of her solid restraint. Bit by bit, Rangi told herself,

It’s just pity.

It’s just curiosity.

It’s just fascination.

It is fleeting.

Anything tangible, anything she could find a way to explain. 

It could be anything, but a crush.

And a crush, it was – the opposite of clean and precise, her usual approach to her day to day life. Slowly they became sleepless nights, the sheets tangled around her limbs, they became periods where, with the conscious intent of going, sought her out and stayed even though she knew it was time to leave. She had no right to memorize which muscles move first when Kyoshi smiled – no right to be able to clearly recollect which side of her face counted more freckles. 

I should let it go. She knew. Arguing with herself overtime, she recounted both the good and bad over and over, always ending up at the same destination: this door should remain closed. But her heart refused to bow to reason, not when it had already chosen its allegiance. 

Perfectly aware of what followed, she burned in silence. Every interaction laced with the unspoken, every touch a brand upon her skin.

Their eventual friendship had only made matters worse. At first, struck at the mere thoughts of something as outlandish and foolish crossing Kyoshi’s mind – the two of them, being friends –, Rangi found it entertaining. 

It would be an excuse for her to do more of the things she silently longed to, only it would not be so strange anymore. Ask for her number and cover it up – visit the studio with a reason she came up with already on the way there. Day and night think, and think, and think,

What’s Kyoshi doing now? Is she with Yun? Or is she alone? It’s been a few days.

A masquerade – Rangi convinced herself she could sustain it. Keep playing her own part in this twisted, worst-case scenario. Just friends – as if such a thing was possible, when every glance was a confession, every laugh a surrender. Of course she had agreed to it. The alternative was the unthinkable – losing her entirely, a loss she could simply not bear. So she lingered.

Inevitably intertwined, her past became with her present. What she could possibly fear as a teenager, she had no shame in now – one of those things was the fierce protection she always thought would give her intentions away. It mattered little what people thought – and a lot what Kyoshi did.

In her mind, Rangi was doing this for every girl she had ever loved – any who ever came close to her heart, and lived to see the true colors of the spectrum she could offer her love on. It is as much an act of an apology, as it is of love persisting – whatever coiled around her ankles, threatening to pull her into the blackened abyss, would not be allowed to overwhelm her. 

So there she was.

Memorizing the cadence of her voice, the way it dropped in amusement and brightened in surprise – she endured every phase of complaining and crying, dramatic acts of whatever was currently bothering her. On better days, it was cheese-induced intoxication and the laughter that followed, and on worse, cluelessness and desperation. Whatever it was, she was there.

She learned the exact pressure of her fingertips when Kyoshi touched her arm – an incendiary act that would act as a paradox: a wound and a balm. It was supposed to be enough. And it wasn’t.

But then came the texts – late, languid, threaded with fondness that blurred the lines. Messages that lingered the air – made it feel heavy and tense. Tell me again. I want to know more. Tell me everything I need to know. I need to know. Something friends would say – but not like this. Not with this charge – not with this heat. 

And oh, the guilt. It coiled in her chest, thick and suffocating. Because she knew – with every fiber of her being, she knew, this was a dangerous game. Not just for her heart, but also for the future – the careful balance they had constructed over many months. What would happen if Rangi slipped? What happened if the line she was tip-toeing finally gave way? The fear was a living thing, gnawing at her ribs, threatening to consume her heart.

She imagined scenarios – confessions met with silence, touches withdrawn, distance yawning between them like a canyon. The thought of losing this – whatever little she could call hers, fragile and feverish – was enough to steal her breath and remind her of the care she had to walk the line with.

And even then, she could not stop herself.

More days, more nights, from sunrise to sunset, when it was rained and when it was sunny, every moment of freedom was spent in her vicinity. She had entirely forgotten the reason she came to Kyoshi with – to use her as a tool for her investigation, to find out more, to be of use to her Mother… 

Normally, Rangi knew when to walk away. However, with her head far above the clouds, in a state of breathlessness, she unraveled slowly, giving in to the sweet and terrible freefall of loving this girl. Guilt and greed battled in her, grateful for what she could steal and longing for more. Though she knew it would ruin her – that reckoning would come, there wouldn’t be an ounce of regret left in her.

Why?

Because the alternative was never having Kyoshi like the way she did at all.

The scent of clay and turpentine lingered, thick and earthy, a familiar comfort that now felt suffocating. She sat across from him at the wooden work table, her fingers slowly tracing grooves and etchings on its surface, creation and destruction equally as present.

“You’re getting reckless, Rangi,” his voice smoothed before he crossed his arms in front of his chest, gazing down at her. “This little… private investigation of yours?” he clicked his tongue, “It’s cute. But if you keep playing detective, you might burn yourself.”

Her chest tightened – his eyes darkened with possessive fury. “As for Kyoshi,” he tilted his head, tone softly mocking, faux-pity. “You poor thing. This time around it’s worse than anytime before – I have never, ever seen you look at anyone like this. So much admiration,” he cooed, “So much love.”

A slow, cruel smile curled his lips. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, his gaze intertwined with hers – much like a predator savoring its prey’s fear. “Kyoshi’s a fool – so trusting, so… delicate. It would be just tragic if a few misunderstandings found their way to her Professor’s office. Nasty rumors of academic misconduct, policy violations… If lucky, followed by a suspension. If not, maybe something worse.”

Her breath hitched and heart sank. She knew he wasn’t bluffing – having seen the way he manipulated people, twisted truths until even the strongest minds doubted their memories. If an asset was no longer useful to him, they would disappear, as if they never existed. She didn’t want Kyoshi to disappear.

“One word from me, and she loses everything she worked so hard for,” he whispered, his eyes scanning her features without blinking, “One slip up from you, and you lose her.” 

Kyoshi had no idea the monster she was tangled up with. An invisible hand wrapped its fingers around Rangi’s heart, squeezing it until she could feel physical pain in every last fiber of her body. The injustice – sheer cruelty burned like poison in her veins.

“You think you’re protecting her by being her friend, all of that behind my back? I thought you knew me better,” he slowed down, one of his eyebrows jumping. “You’ve gotten sloppy.”

His eyes sunk just in time to witness the slight tremor in her hands – then, he smiled. “Here’s what you’re going to do,” he hummed, light and precise. Deadly. “You’re going to leave her alone. No more questions. No more lingering stares. No more studio visits. No more daydreams of my girlfriend,” he weaponized his cruelty perfectly, “And I promise you, she’ll be fine. Just like how she always was, before meeting you. That is what you want, isn’t it?”

Her hands trembled again. She clenched them into fists, nails biting into her palms, the pain a fleeting distraction from the deeper wound splitting her open on the inside. “ Fine, ” she exhaled, the words ash on her tongue. “But just so you know, Yun, ” Rangi seethed, her gaze burning, “Kyoshi’s way smarter than you realize. You see her for as much as you think of her. You’d be surprised by the true depth of her drive – the authenticity of her existence. If you do her wrong,” she whispered with finality, “I’ll be your Karma.”

For a moment, his smile widened – triumphant, as if he had already won. There was a gleam in his eyes, dark and satisfied, that cared little for Rangi’s words and threat. To him, this wasn’t just about control anymore – he wanted to hurt them. For his own selfish reasons, both Kyoshi’s and Rangi’s pain would heal him. Knowing that Rangi was powerless, he must have been on the top of the world.

Standing up abruptly, the chair scraped against the floor like a scream in the serenity of the studio. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her break – there was nothing else for her to say. Turning away, her vision blurs, and once she is outside and the door closes with a thud , hot tears spill over her before she could stop them.

Dressing it up as an option for Rangi to stay or leave – making it seem like she would be the one to either give Kyoshi a strained life or take it away, felt terrible. He thought of himself as a generous, gracious God – but Rangi wasn’t feared over superstitions. 

Give it time, she repeated, over and over and over, it’s time to be patient.

The apartment was dark when she finally pushed the door open, the only light coming from the distant, flickering glow of the TV in the living room. The remnants of a half-eaten bag of chips spilled across the coffee table, and sprawled on the couch, limbs tangled in a fleece blanket, was Koulin – her roommate. Mouth slightly open, one arm dangling off the edge, dead to the world. So elegant.

Until the door behind Rangi clicked shut.

A snort, a flail, a jump, then – “Wha –? Zombies? No, no, I’ve got protection,” she bolted upright, wild-eyed, before blinking rapidly at the rude intrusion on her reality. The corny horror movie that played on the screen was one Rangi couldn’t recognize – the female actress screamed, and a rubbery monster lurched towards her.

That was when Koulin’s gaze landed on her, all of her drowsiness vanishing in a blink.

“Oh my God,” she threw the blanket aside, “What the hell happened to you? Rangi ?”

She didn’t have the chance to look in a mirror yet, but she could imagine herself very well. Red-rimmed eyes, tousled hair, the stiffness in her shoulders. She didn’t feel like herself anymore.

Rendered useless in the face of danger, not knowing better, she just submitted to the insanity Yun proposed – and the uncertainty was killing her. “I’m fine,” she muttered, kneeling down to take her shoes off. Her voice cracked on the lie.

“Bullshit,” Koulin inhaled sharply, stumbling over the mess she made with haste. “You look like you’ve just gone through hell, I –,” she paused, kneeling down next to her. “You know you can trust me. Rangi, do we need to hide a body? ”

An unexpected laugh bubbled from her throat. She swiped at her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Koulin’s expression softened. She placed a hand on Rangi’s shoulder – “Did you cry because you were finally honest with her and she rejected you?”

Another laugh, bittersweet this time. She shook her head. “ I wish. ”

Koulin hooked her arm into Rangi’s, unceremoniously marching to the kitchen while she pulled her. “Talk,” she whispered, more serious now. “We can eat ice cream together – it’s… you know. It’s the law. When you’re sad, you have to eat ice cream.”

Rangi’s heart was so full of Koulin, the way she presented herself right now must have been truly disturbing. Usually she was never trying so hard to make her laugh. 

That’s what they did. A bucket of ice cream and two over-sized spoons, and they plopped down onto the couch. The horror movie played on – the monster was slowly meeting its dramatic end. Neither of them paid it any mind.

“Yun knew,” Rangi verbalized, the weight of her words pressing down on her with finality this time, becoming truly real. “He knew for a couple of months now – that Kyoshi and I, we were… friends.”

A light scoff. Koulin stared into her soul with downturned puppy eyes, but she didn’t interrupt. She only ever spooned the ice cream after Rangi did, too.

“I could hide my affection from anyone and they’d never know – but not Yun. Somehow he – he had access to more than what he claimed to know… Almost as if someone was always following me or Kyoshi, and seeing all the things with their own eyes. He didn’t blow his cover, but I’m sure he has photos as his evidence, too,” Rangi’s voice lowered. She was staring at her thumb, eyebrows drawn together in sheer anger.

“He threatened me,” she continued, the events vividly replaying in her mind, “That if I don’t pull back now and stay away, I’ll be the one responsible for her downfall. Given the current situation,” Rangi scoffed, “As close as we are, I’m not her boyfriend. As she always has, she’ll prioritize Yun and his feelings. Kyoshi has no reason to believe me over him,” she analyzed slowly, “So I had no choice but to agree to his terms. In high-school, when…”

Oh, this was ripping some wounds. Rangi exhaled. “Ming-Yue succumbed to the fear and gave in to Yun’s desire, preferring to keep up a perfect front instead of the genuinity we had. I do realize that – there were things I could have done for her back then,” Rangi muttered, eyes dull, staring into nothing, “I could have put up a fight, but I just let her go. Stayed away to lick my wounds – and it allowed him to… do whatever he wanted. I thought he gave up on his revenge arc, that he – finally stopped caring about that idiotic rejection years ago… But Koulin, I think I’m the fool. I just gave him the most powerful weapon to use against me – and it’s almost September again, everything’s the same and –”

“Slow down,” Koulin interrupted, grabbing her hand. Her fingertips were soft as she brushed Rangi’s knuckles. “Breathe,” she smiled, “You’re not seventeen anymore. This isn’t high-school. History is not going to repeat itself,” she whispered, sitting up. She draped an arm around Rangi’s shoulders, “First of all, fuck that manipulative little shit. I never liked him! Second,” it seemed like she was relieved after saying that, words rolling out of her mouth with ease, “You’re not one to bleed out over things like this, Rangi. I know it feels confusing now, but there’s many more outcomes to a story than what you are aware of while living through it.”

Ever the optimist. Koulin squeezed her shoulder. “From what you told me and what I know of Kyoshi – she’s pretty badass. She’d rival your coolness if she was a little less shy, but… I think she’s unabashedly herself. Now that is both good and bad, I know, ” she paused for a moment, tilting her head towards Rangi’s until their skulls knocked. She owch ed. “Kyoshi has her own agency. She’s autonomous. A push here and there might be good to encourage her, but she gives me the vibes of someone who’ll make the decisions for herself after thinking about a situation and reflecting on it.”

Rangi’s mouth slowly turned into a line. Her head still hurt a little from where Koulin head-butted her. It was the most ridiculous thing ever to hear that someone considered Kyoshi independent enough to make her own decisions – but ultimately, that was right. Perhaps not the part about thinking long and hard, if anything, she’d complain and cry and get stuck on irrelevant details. Rangi sighed.

“She’ll be confused if I leave without a word,” she whispered back, returning Koulin’s grasp on her hand. “I’m just – not sure which one is worse. Not saying anything, or trying to explain it but failing and exposing myself in the process.”

Koulin hummed thoughtfully. Rangi could almost hear the cogs in her brain starting with a creak. “Don’t say anything for now,” she replied first, then she sat up straight – very suddenly. “I know! I can look out for her while you can’t,” she giggled, glancing at Rangi. “You know – to make sure nothing bad happens. You can rest while the situation winds down, and maybe she won’t think… too much of it.”

Rangi buried her head in her hands.

Options, solutions, possibilities left and right – and through it all, Koulin was with her, every one of her heartbeats present for her cause. It put Rangi at ease – the apocalypse could be upon us, and this girl would still terrorize her in it. How she loved her best friend. 

“Fine,” she hummed, this time headbutting her back with the same intensity. “But – you can not talk about what you learned, and what you know. You’ll have to keep it vague with her, otherwise she’ll know, and that means Yun will know.”

Koulin laughed in pain, hugging her so tightly it could be considered violence. What was worse is that Rangi, for once, was really glad for her physical closeness and terrible attempts at comfort. 

“We’ll get back at him,” her best friend whispered, now slowly brushing her hair with her fingertips. “He’ll never know what hit him.”

That sounded good.

The days that followed bled together into a daze of unanswered text messages at first. Rangi threw herself back into the cycle she knew the best – work, chores, studying. Studying, work, chores. The same every single day. Anything to help ease the worry that otherwise would have overtaken her sense of rationality – and even that didn’t help. 

From time to time, her phone would buzz, making her heart lurch and sink, reading through the notification bar but thinking of the worst before ever pressing reply.

DAY 2: “Hey. I know you’re probably mad at me, I was pretty stupid. It’s just, I need some space to figure things out. It’s not you, I swear. It’s me. I hope we can talk soon.”

DAY 5: “My Dad sent me these pictures from a local art exhibit. I thought of you when I saw them, so I thought I’d show you. They’re cool, right? I hope you’re okay.”

[Forwarded 4 images]

DAY 8: “I miss talking to you. Rangi please – say something… Anything will do.”

DAY 12: “Yun told me you said something awful about me, but it just… doesn’t sound like you. I don’t want to believe it. Won’t you tell me your side? Don’t I deserve to know?”

DAY 15: “I don’t understand what changed, but I feel like an idiot for trying. You obviously moved on – but… Whatever.” 

DAY 18: “I’m sorry. For everything. Even if you hate me now.”

Twenty one days total of biting her tongue, of staring at her phone in the dark, of half-formed apologies and unsent pleas crowding her notes app. The silence was drowning Rangi, and no amount of Koulin’s jokes or impromptu dance parties with heavy and greasy food could fully put her back on track. Not yet anyways.

Then, it was a late August evening. The rain came that day – falling in heavy and relentless sheets, drumming against the windows and rattling the old pipes in the walls. When it thundered, she felt it under her feet, and anytime the living room lit up for half a second, she glanced in the direction of the balcony.

Curled up on the couch with a lamp professionally angled to give her as much light and as little shine as possible, Rangi was absentmindedly sketching – not really working, just keeping her hands occupied. A terrible reality TV show was playing in the background – a guilty pleasure she would never admit to anyone.

Koulin had left her to be about an hour ago, out of breath as she once had to climb the stairs all the way up from the bottom because she forgot her umbrella. She said it would have been fine, but she didn’t want to come home looking like a drowned rat, so she insisted on taking her umbrella – the second time she left.

A knock sounded on the door again. Rangi scoffed – idly setting her notebook down, she dragged herself up from the couch, padding slowly to the door. “You’re a disaster,” she called, swinging it open –

And froze.

Standing on her doorstep, drenched and shaking, was her.

Rainwater dripped from her hair and her clothes clung to her frame. She made no attempts to hide the shiver that ran through her, inhaling and exhaling loudly from the rush. Her eyes were red and puffy, breathing uneven in hitches. She’d been crying.

“Kyoshi?”

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, voice raw, another sob surfacing. “I’m so sorry – I didn’t… I didn’t know,” she trembled, her nails sinking into her own upper arms. “You were right. Right from the start, and – I didn’t know where else to go,” she cried, sniffing so ugly it was tugging on Rangi’s heart.

The ache – the urge, the overwhelming desire to grab her, to pull her, to wipe the rain from her face and promise her it would be okay… Her restraint was broken in mere seconds after hearing her voice. The dam broke, and she stopped thinking. Stopped hesitating.

Her hands were moving before her mind could catch up, fingers brushing against her rain-chilled skin, Rangi yanked the idiot down by the neck, pulling her inside the apartment. Time fractured.

Her force came as a surprise to the both of them – neither gentle nor hesitant, but desperate enough, as if she didn’t anchor to this spot, the storm would pick her up and take her away again. Their bodies collided, water soaking through the fabric, heartbeats tangling.

Rangi’s arms encircled her neck as if she was drowning and her only means of staying alive was clutching onto her like a piece of driftwood – fingers pressing into the bumps of her vertebrae, her nostrils filled with the nostalgic scent of petrichor , shampoo, and the ghost of perfume with vanilla.

It was instinctive for her to bury her face in the curve of her neck, inhaling sharply like she hadn’t breathed in weeks. The damp strands of her hair clung to her lips as she whispered, “You’re going to catch a cold,” but made no move to separate herself.

“I don’t care,” came the muffled sound, cracking thinly. “I don’t care.”

Rangi could feel the frantic flutter of Kyoshi’s pulse under her skin. The storm raged on and the windows rattled again – then, she scoffed, 

“I do.”

“Let me,” she muttered, gently prying the fuzzy towel from Kyoshi’s grip.

A few minutes ago, she had sat her down on the couch – as wet and as soaked as she was, and retreated to the bathroom to recollect herself. The world, once again, completely tilted over its axis, and Rangi was left dazed by it. Two minutes of staring into the mirror, washing her face, trying to knot her hair up so it looked presentable. She was wearing home clothes – a white tank top and pants she had only ever used for sleeping, with a Grinch pattern. Koulin had a matching pair.

She felt stupid – but she had no time to idle around, change, and think about other insignificant matters. When her heart fluttered in her chest on sight, the sense of impending doom faded out – and she realized, the toughest part was still ahead. But it had to get worse so it could get better – and maybe Kyoshi finally woke up.

When she returned, she took the towel she originally had shoved into Kyoshi’s hands, as from what she was able to gather, for the entire time Rangi was gone, she sat still, her eyes on the door. She desperately wanted to know just what on Earth happened for her to wind up on her doorstep in a state as miserable and shaken as this.

The first touch of the towel to her hair was tentative, almost reverent. She blotted each dripping strand with careful hands, her movements slow and intentional. Kyoshi exhaled softly, her shoulders sagging and eyelashes fluttering shut. The trust she had just given Rangi with these simple motions sent a pang through her chest. 

“Tell me what happened.”

It was her voice. She kept massaging her scalp to dry her hair, even when the towel was entirely damp – eyes pinned to her face. Kyoshi, despite everything, returned her gaze, as steady as she could.

“I’m an idiot,” she whispered, the words stuck in her throat like splintered glass. “All the signs were there, and I just – turned a blind eye to it,” her voice lowered, eyes sparkling new, unshed tears. “I think – I think a part of me always knew, but if I admitted that… Then I’d have to admit I can’t trust my own judgement anymore,” her hands clenched into a fist in her lap, knuckles white. “Everyone tried to tell me – and I wouldn’t listen. If I had, then I’d have to face how wrong I was about him this whole time, believing he was better than what he showed.”

Kyoshi leaned into her touch – a quiet, broken little sound escaping her lips as she frowned. For a long moment her eyelids press together – then, when Rangi’s motions come to a stop, she opens her eyes, emerald irises seeking something. Anything.

As much as she wanted Kyoshi to know she was being an idiot, Rangi had no idea it would pain her so much when she finally realized. There was nothing she could do about it either, to help. Instead, she returned the bittersweet frown, the helplessness of the situation burning her.

“I missed this.”

Kyoshi’s voice was raw when she whispered that. Rangi had no idea what ‘this’ implied – within that mind, it could have been anything. She dared not to ask.

Her fingers stilled and the towel slipped. The air between them grew thick, heavy with everything left unsaid – everything that was once denied.

“Can you forgive me?”

Kyoshi whispered, and time stuttered. Perhaps it stopped entirely, for all she knew. Rangi cradled Kyoshi’s face in her hands, her fingertips cold, tracing the damp track of her previous tears – then…

It is you who should forgive me .

Then, she kissed her.

Not gently, nor carefully – but with the pent-up hunger of every restrained touch, every sleepless night, every minute spent with silent yearning and stolen glances. It was a collision – nothing soft like meeting in the middle, the force of it stealing the oxygen from their lungs. She felt her hands jolting to her own shoulders, at first anticipating a shove – but no, it was a desperate pull, Kyoshi's nails biting her flesh.

It was messy. Their teeth clanked, breaths tangled, any semblance of control and rationality lost in the heat of the moment. 

Under any other circumstance, Rangi would have stopped. She would have considered Kyoshi’s fragile emotional state, the weight of the moment, the importance of it, all the consequences of crossing the fine line she threaded… Right now, with her thoughts blurred, her pulse roaring in her ears, the blood in her veins beating fire, she was reckless. 

There are no thoughts about the future – not any more than there are about the past. Everything that could have started off as a warning or an intention ended up in Kyoshi and the helpless hunger she yearned for her with.

In her last sober moments, clinging onto her lips, Rangi faintly recalls the mindless tug in a direction that offered more privacy – and then, no more.

* * *

Her room felt smaller than it had anytime before. The serene company of the rain outside composed a magnificent background when skin pressed against skin, each breath louder, faster, as a sign of defiant escapism. 

She couldn’t think anymore – not coherently, anyways. In the shadows, they became silhouettes, emotions and secrets wordlessly spilled, hands desperate with every fraction of a touch, begging first and asking second. The blankets had fallen somewhere, pushed off by unthinking and urgent limbs – reaching, seeking, grabbing, curling. The dark held them close.

The silhouette under her curved toward her, back exposed to the hush, long limbs stretched like the wings of a bird that finally caught the splendid sensation of flight, her skin marked with the unabashed, shameless notions of living. Scattered freckles, beauty marks, faint scars – the soft rise where her skin clings too tightly to the bone. 

Hands that didn’t belong to her curled near her face, trembling slightly, the faintest glimmer in her eyes just visible – unbearably tender for a moment, before a helpless tug. Fingertips brush the dip of her spine, and the body under her flinches – inward, the stroke unraveling a previously tight wound, a sharp intake of breath breaking out of her throat.

Sheets rustle again – the curve of her knee pressing against the fragile core of the body underneath. The notion is followed by a twitch – the rise of her body, fingers tangled in dark hair, yanking down. Her forehead is against the other’s collarbone, her breath on fire against her skin. 

Fingers settle on the hills of her hips, thumb rolling the bone before steadying for a moment. When the friction feels right, the fingers in her hair tighten and the throat against the line of her nose jumps. It was better than her shameless dreams – better, when her name turned into an apology, a plea, a question, all at once.

She wasn’t sure where she started anymore or where she ended – with their features indistinguishable and breaths mingled, the rhythm picks up, and a sigh is swallowed. 

A silhouette pressed into a silhouette – followed by the long trembling echo of heartbeats in mimicry.

Chapter Text

The first thing she registered was the languid light of the dawn as it blinked inside the room through translucent curtains. 

That’s strange.

In her room, her bed was neatly tucked in the corner, away from all sorts of light that could wake her from the middle of a sweet dream. Momentarily weightless between a dream and waking, the sheets feel warm around her – she’s curled up in them, the pillow soft and silky beneath her cheek. It’s not even that bad, she thinks, having considered the morning sun pleasant and even peaceful.

Only, her life’s been nothing peaceful these past three weeks.  

A shift, and sudden ache settled – sweet and almost addictive, humming in her muscles like a happy melody through plucked strings. Her thighs, her hips, the dip of her waist – everything thrummed with satisfaction. As she stretched, the soreness flared bright and undeniable.

The warmth of the moment ran cold quickly. Kyoshi stilled.

In a sickening rush, her eyes popped open, the memories flooding in.

Hot lips on her collarbone, a sharp gasp that had her back arched, the ironic simplicity of the world when it had all narrowed down to touching, tasting, taking. Hands in her hair, a whispered plea – hers? A name uttered like it was sacred.

Kyoshi sat up too fast, her head spinning. Her syrupy thoughts were all gone the moment she realized the bed beneath her was not her own – the sheets were softer, blankets she could not recognize, scent dizzyingly familiar. The first real prickle of unease, the snowball that would be responsible for the upcoming avalanche was that she was wearing nothing .

Taking in the space, she noted the high ceilings, neat stacks of books not only on the nightstand but in two organized bookshelves hugging each other, the architectural models lined up on the desk with uncanny precision – and right there, draped over the back of a chair, a jacket she had seen a thousand times now. 

Realization struck her like a slap in the face.

Kyoshi’s pulse leapt as she pressed a hand to her chest – as if she could still it. The memories came in fragments, jagged and hazy – and thus, panic coiled in her stomach, unforgivingly so. She could remember coming here – desperate and crying, wishing for this wordless nightmare to be over. She could remember Rangi looking duller than anytime she’d seen her before, and even like that, she was glowing. She could remember the look in her eyes – was it pity? Perhaps something else? 

Kyoshi swallowed hard, her throat tight. She could remember the kiss they shared. For a moment, as her hands rise to touch her own lips, she’s burning – shame? Regret? Was it guilt? 

What have I done?  

She dragged a hand through her hair, fingers catching on tangles. Untangling herself from the sheets, when she stands, her reflection in the mirror is wild-eyed, lips swollen, her skin marked in places she couldn’t explain. Her legs felt unsteady as she turned from left to right, closely examining both sides of her neck as well as the entire length of her arms, and there was no escaping the embarrassed blush that followed, either. 

Her clothes were neatly folded on the nightstand – it doesn’t take her more than a moment to make a mess, yanking them on quickly, her breath uneven. She’s back in what she was wearing yesterday – and all the shame returns, too. 

Turning around a final time, she stared at the bed, all coherent thought dissipated. It just couldn’t get worse.

Just go. Just leave.

The thought gnawed her mind – but slipping out unseen felt not only cowardly, but impossible as well. Not that facing Rangi was any more bearable – regardless, Kyoshi sucked in a breath and stepped into the unfamiliar hallway.

As she would assume, the apartment was quiet and minimalistic with only a handful of personal touches here-and-there. The golden spill of the midmorning she would have really enjoyed, was it not for the existential dread adding ten extra pounds to her already heavy mind. The scent of rich but characteristically bitter coffee curls the air and Kyoshi follows. Her pulse pounding in her throat, of course.

When she came into view, Rangi stood at the counter, her back to Kyoshi. Spending so much time with someone had both its advantages and disadvantages – and Kyoshi was unsure how to feel, noticing the obvious rigidness and tension sitting between Rangi’s shoulder blades.

The coffee machine hissed softly, steam rising.

What was there for Kyoshi to say? Sorry? There were too many things to apologize for, tossing that out would only make matters more complicated. With her eyes pinned to the sharp line of Rangi’s spine, another flush followed. She should say something. It’s probably creepy how much she’s just… staring. 

But she couldn’t not stare. Rangi’s dark hair was slightly tousled, the waves unkempt and unstyled in a way she’d never seen it before – softened by sleep and something more. Before she could finish her observation, though, her breath is caught.

It takes just a second for their eyes to lock. The sharp lines of her profile are striking – the slant of her cheekbones softened, the adorable slope of her nose making her feel momentarily weak. Rangi’s eyes are staring into her soul – always intense, always stripping her bare, intentionally or not. 

Neither of them move. Then, Kyoshi’s the first one to hum.

“Good morning,” even though she can safely assume Rangi’s not having a good morning.

Her fingers tighten around the mug, “Morning.”

Silence. The weight that’s pressed down between them is tense and suffocating – if Kyoshi thought Rangi’s absence was bad, she was definitely not prepared for this. It’s only a moment when she sees her eyes flick up and down, and the twist in her stomach is one she can’t explain. 

Closely followed by her own gaze dropping, that’s when she sees it. A faint, but unmistakable reddish mark, just beneath the collar of Rangi’s shirt, running up on the side of her throat. 

“We need to talk,” she inhaled, placing the dark mug down on the counter, half of its content still in it. Rangi didn’t flinch, not even under the scrutinizing, panicked glare Kyoshi unintentionally gave her. 

The words are like thunder in her ears, and momentarily, the world rings. 

Kyoshi stepped forward as she hummed, “Okay.” 

Lek:

@Kyoshi 

hey, kyoshi

hello?

where the fuck did you go?

answer 

Kirima: 

u just ran off without saying ANYTHING

listen, we don’t have to talk ab

what happened and all

but 

just what are you doing?

Jinpa:

Guys, I don’t think it’s a good idea to put this much pressure on Kyoshi.

Kirima:

u forget that she’s been in a relationship for over a year now

i can make peace w growing apart from your lover 

but cheating?

@Kyoshi 

i know ur going through it so let’s talk 

please babe

Lek:

i can not forget that stupid look on her face 

when we walked in 

lmao

not to mention the betrayal 

she’s MY crush, are you greedy bro?

you were about to make out with her

Wong:

I just want to know if she’s okay. 

It doesn’t even look like she’s getting these messages.

Kirima:

kyoshi i’ll call you 

please pick up 

i promise i won’t even scream at u

too loud

please

Lek:

pls update if you learn anything

These were the messages that greeted Kyoshi on Saturday morning – alongside five missed calls, and a couple of more private messages from Lek that were checking in on her. 

She was walking home from Yun’s place as she replied.

Kyoshi:

Sorry for disappearing last night.

It wasn’t planned – I just… really had to leave. 

Lek:

you’re alive???? 

@Kirima 

she’s alive

we thought you got abducted

Kirima:

we were so worried for you!

where’d you go? where are you now? 

Kyoshi: 

After what happened, I just needed a breather.

Kirima:

kyoshi, listen

i’m telling you this as your friend

if this is about rangi 

i don’t even know… you need to stop 

you’re not even acting like yourself anymore 

take a break, reset, talk to your boyfriend

Kyoshi:

It’s not that simple, Kirima.

I need some time to think about…

Well, everything. 

Kirima:

stop letting this momentary confusion wreck your life

you’re seriously heading down a dangerous path

yun’s patient with you like no one else

plus you don’t even know what rangi is thinking or what she wants from you

i don’t trust her

Kyoshi:

Kirima, I don’t even know what I’m thinking right now.

I feel like I know nothing anymore.

Lek:

are you two seriously arguing right now?

here’s my hot take 

kyoshi, you’re not supposed to “know” 

stop trying to logic your way into safety

just go with the flow, like how i would

Jinpa:

There’s nothing wrong with uncertainty. Or even being a little lost.

You can confide in us if you need help, Kyoshi. We’re your friends.

Okay?

Kirima:

i’m not home today, but i won’t let you off the hook this easily

i’ll come by monday afternoon

be home

i want to talk to you kyoshi

in person

Lek:

if kirima’s going, i’m going too 

kyoshi, please make sure to eat smth 

you’re home right?

do you want to grab noodles for lunch

my treat

Kyoshi:

It’s okay, Lek. 

I want to be alone now, but I’ll check in later.

That is what she left it with. After leaving Yun’s, Kyoshi’s brain spun with all the questions that remained a mystery. What did Rangi want to say? Why did she look so pained as Kyoshi got up and left? That face kept haunting her anytime she closed her eyes.

Over everything else, this was what still what worried her the most.

In the blink of an eye, it was Monday afternoon.

Opposite of her, like the angel and devil on one’s shoulder would sit when it came to making difficult decisions, stood Lek and Kirima, having a stare-down. Kyoshi’s dormitory room was thick with tension – sitting curled up on the edge of the bed, she kept phasing out, her gaze sitting on a plastic pot of beaded plants that she made in her time off. The only light in the room was the one on her nightstand, which dimly reflected in the glossy beads.

It was just for a moment that she managed to get away from their words. Then, she was thrown back into the ring.

“Kyoshi,” Kirima called, her voice frosty and statuesque as if she was delivering a sentence, “You have responsibilities. Especially to Yun,” her voice softened momentarily, “He loves you. He’s planning his future with you – and what are you doing to show your gratitude? Have you forgotten about Rangi’s reputation – how quick she can put an end to people? Just because you’ve shared a few laughs and because she insists on lingering around you doesn’t mean anything. You’re in danger around her.”

It looked like Kirima’s eyes burned. Kyoshi was perfectly aware of the disdain her friend had for Rangi – mostly because of the reputation she eagerly brought up every single time she could. In a sense, Kirima was right – Rangi was scary, but that was just the surface of who she was. None of them would think of her as anything terrifying if they shared a genuine laugh with her.

“You need to think about what’s at stake. After graduation, real life comes. No more games. You can’t afford to be reckless. If you lose your footing, who knows what will happen to you.” 

Lek scoffed, rolling his eyes. He stepped closer, his usually chaotic energy replaced by something unusually raw. “Spare the lecture, Kirima,” he threw a hand out, pointing at Kyoshi. “Look at her. When was the last time you’ve seen her genuinely smile around Yun? Huh?” 

As he inhaled sharply, his voice seemed to soften for a moment. “Ever since the start of their doomed relationship, we’ve been listening to Kyoshi herself saying she was worried she was walking on eggshells around him, she literally changed who she was to fit into the perfect box he constructed for her… That day at the festival – I was in the trenches, yes, but Kyoshi was glowing . It’s no mistake, so stop pushing your views on her.”

“She wasn’t happy,” Kirima stated, her death glare turned to Lek now. “She’s confused. She said so before, these are her words! Kyoshi said she doesn’t know why Rangi’s hanging around her – and now it is obvious! She’s trying to get back at Yun through you. Befriending her was a mistake – as you can tell, she already backed off because she knows she made a mistake. It was a phase for her, and you were a toy.”

Hearing that hurt more than Kyoshi was ready to admit. She flinched.

“A mistake?” Lek laughed, his voice bitter. “You don’t know what really happened! You can’t know her intentions. Not to mention – you’re literally telling Kyoshi to deny the truth now.”

Their continuous back and forth clashed around Kyoshi like warring tides, dragging her under, tearing her apart, drowning her. She wanted to scream, to tell them to stop, but her voice abandoned her – lost somewhere between Kirima’s expectations and the possibilities behind Lek’s words. She no longer knew the truth.

“Enough,” she whispered, but it found no recipient.

“Lek, you forget one thing,” Kirima insisted, her voice rising, “Kyoshi’s not into girls. As I said, she is overwhelmed, stressed out and confused. We need to help her focus on what matters and not feed into her inner saboteur.”

“What if she is?!” He retorted relentlessly, “Trust me, I would never want Kyoshi to crush on Rangi, because I, funnily enough, know how that is! But what if she is into her? Or into girls – any in general? Are you just going to tell her to bury the truth for the sake of convenience? To live a lie?”

A choked sob broke from Kyoshi’s throat, sudden and violent. 

“This isn’t about just some feelings,” Kirima lashed back, her knuckles white from her clenched fingers, “It’s about her integrity! Her loyalty! Her commitment! Yun has been nothing but good to her – you wouldn’t know how rare that is.”

Lek let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Right. Since when does loyalty mean you have to suffocate yourself? Tell me, Kirima. When was the last time Kyoshi genuinely laughed around him? When was the last time she didn’t look like she was holding her breath, biting her tongue not to say the wrong thing?”

“That’s not the point –”

“It is exactly the point! For some reason you’re so obsessed with this idea of her future being perfect that you stopped caring if she’d be happy in it!”

Kyoshi wanted to disappear. Her nails dug deeper into her arms.

“Happy?” Kirima asked with disdain, “You think throwing away a stable, loving relationship, for what – a girl? That’ll lead her to happiness?”

Lek’s jaw tightened. “Maybe it will. Maybe she feels more alive around Rangi than she ever has around that dick.”

“She’s not gay !” Kirima nearly shouted, throwing her hands up. “She said that herself!”

I’m not. I’m not. I’m not . 

The words echoed like heartbeat.

“Kyoshi, look at me,” Lek turned to her, and that was the moment he realized she was tearing up. “Do you really believe that?”

His voice was impossibly soft now. Kyoshi violently shook her head. “I don’t – I don’t like girls. I don’t .”

“Then why did you let her get so close to you?” Kirima demanded, her voice sharp with accusation. 

Kyoshi’s vision blurred. She knew that she could be harsh, but feeling it on her own skin was an entirely new world. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t –

Lek groaned in pain, “Great interrogation! You really helped her now.”

“Someone has to be the voice of reason!” Kirima shot back, pacing around the room. “Apparently it has to be me because you’re way too busy romanticizing this – this mess! Your feelings are biased too. You hate Yun and like Rangi. It is no surprise you’re supporting whatever is going on.”

“You – you’re too busy pretending love is a checklist! Stable? Check. Dependable? Check. Rich without any feelings or sincerity? Check. To you, it wouldn’t even matter if it killed her inside so long it looks right on the surface!”

Kirima stopped. Her voice lowered. “You don’t get it – life isn’t some fantasy series where you can follow your heart and everything works out! There are consequences to everything you do!”

“Yeah?” Lek slowed down, meeting her head on. “What’s the consequence of her spending the rest of her life lying to herself? Huh?”

Silence. Kyoshi could her the tremble of her own breath.

“Kirima, you’re making her feel wrong for even considering her possibilities. You’re not Kyoshi’s Mother, and you sure as hell aren’t her conscience.”

“You,” she glared, “You’re so selfish. You’d rather watch her ruin her life for a passing crush than the steady relationship she’s in now! You don’t care about her future! Or her integrity!”

Kyoshi couldn’t take it anymore. A raw, wounded noise tore from her throat as she lurched to her feet, her vision swimming with tears. “Get out!” she screamed, her voice breaking and buckling.

Both Kirima and Lek froze, turning to her with wide eyes.

“Kyos –” 

“No!” she shoved back the hand that was reaching for her, placing the palm of her hands on both of their backs and pushing them towards the door. “Just get out! Both of you – leave me alone! I can’t, ”

Her chest heaved, face streaked with tears. She didn’t want their answers anymore – didn’t want their wars, their interruption, anything.

Kirima’s mouth opened, guilt flickering across her face. Surprisingly, it was Lek who grabbed her by the wrist to hold her back and pull her away, “She needs some space. Come on.”

Kirima hesitated – “Kyoshi, I just –”

Another broken sob surfaced out of her as she slammed the door shut. As if that was going to keep the world out – including their voices, their opinions, and even her own heartbeat that refused to die. 

What if…

No.

Silence.

Collapsing against the wood, her lungs burned as her body shook with silent sobs. There was an unpleasant pounding in her head, and the room around her suddenly felt claustrophobic.

Neither of them were right – she wasn’t happy either way! She tried so hard to be the best girlfriend she could be, and she failed Yun on multiple occasions. Despite her shortcomings, she was always treated with grace and love – but it did feel like a play. What once gave her euphoria now blinded her, and it seemed like there was no good outcome.

Accepting whatever Rangi represented, somehow, was an even bitter pill to swallow. Hard truth that soothed her wounds like a cooling gel – a presence that was there for her even when she didn’t ask, and especially when she wanted to be alone. Rangi reminded her of everything she always wanted – unconditional care that was always the same. To be chosen even when she could find nothing nice or good about herself.

She would have been happy if it was Yun – and it wasn’t, and somehow, it all started to make sense.

Her fingers trembled when she grabbed her phone – a couple of moments later the line rings, and then, a familiar voice calls out to her, always the same, joking.

Kyoshi’s heart sinks when she hears his reaction to hearing her. A promise follows, and she cries and nods and breaks. 

“I’ll come get you. Stay where you are.”

Next she knew, she was sitting in the driver’s seat, a warm hand reaching out to squeeze her own methodically. There were no traces of any anger or frustration on him when she glanced to the side, eyes burning from either exhaustion or fear, or perhaps both. 

Kelsang always looked like he was at peace – anything in the world could have happened, and have happened in the past, and he never once let it show. Not in a way a regular person would anyways, by lashing out, throwing furniture or dishing out accusations in the heat of the moment.

Now, it terrified Kyoshi just how utterly worried he looked – every glance cracked her heart, and she so desperately wanted to reach out, kiss him on the cheek and tell him she’ll be fine, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t, because she had no idea if that would be true or not.

It was well into the morning already when Kyoshi opened her eyes and was greeted by a familiar sight. There were a few weeks left of summer, and perhaps spending it home wouldn’t be too bad. Not like she could focus on her schoolwork or friends anymore – not like she could visit the studio for a laugh, for stolen…

What was she thinking?

Stolen glances? 

No.

This wasn’t her. 

But…

Putting up a fight with this repetitive theme in her head was bound to exhaust her further. Whenever she closed her eyes, Rangi’s face lived there, and she couldn’t escape it.

The old cottage sat at the quiet patch of woods, windchimes dancing in the comfortable golden light. It brought Kyoshi comfort – the familiar scent of pines, earth, flowers, and even the engine oil. Though silent, this place was never really empty – the birdsong, the rustling leaves, the creaking floorboards they never got around to fixing… They all spoke, if one listened.

The first two days went by in silence – and a lot of sleeping. Kelsang was never the type to push anything – he rose with the sun, but never expected the same of Kyoshi. The third day, once she had regained enough energy, she wandered into the kitchen barefoot, a quilt wrapped around her shoulders.

He didn’t need to say anything and she knew regardless – he was still worried. Coming to a halt in motion, the apple he was slicing now plopped on the plate. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice raspy, pushing the plate in front of her. Kyoshi smiled.

“Morning,” she hummed back, voice raspy from disuse. “What are your plans for today?”

He pretended to think long and hard, his hands getting back to work, slicing the apple. “Hmm,” he looked up, his eyes shining softly. “Spending my time with you. Nothing else.” 

Kyoshi wasn’t sure what she had done to deserve someone like him. Looking down at her hands, there is a faint tremble – the whitened scars on her hands now reminders of a timeline she’d much rather live in. “I think I’m ready to talk about… what happened.”

Kelsang nodded. “I’ll listen.”

So that’s what they did.

They sat on the back porch, bare feet resting on the old wood, warmed by the morning sunlight. It smelled like cut grass and lilies, a strangely pleasant combination. 

“I know I kept you updated regularly,” Kyoshi started, her eyes growing unfocused as the trees in front of her blurred, “But there was always one thing I didn’t mention. I didn’t dare to tell anyone at first.”

Kelsang kept his gaze ahead. Slowly, he sipped his tea. If Kyoshi wanted him to comment, she’d say so, he knew as much.

“You must remember that gallery exhibit from February –,” she scoffed lightly, laughing at the memory from what felt like a lifetime ago. “That day, a girl walked up to Yun and I, and… she said some things. That she thought I was his assistant… That Yun didn’t introduce me to anyone, turned his back on me regularly, and it just… right there and then, I thought it was stupid. I was there to support him, so I didn’t care… until then, I didn’t care.”

Kyoshi felt a warm hand on her own. She smiled. A tiny golden bird hopped from one branch to another, singing.

“But her words made me think – and I just really wanted him to acknowledge me more… So when I stood up for Yun and faced her, she didn’t get upset at me, no matter what awful things I have said. She just looked at me almost as if she was pitying me, and then left. It all started there.”

A gentle tug back on his hand, and she carried on.

“From then on, everywhere I went, she was there. Anything that happened to me was somehow witnessed or corrected and even when Yun cancelled our anniversary date, she was somehow there. It made me so frustrated – I felt like she was stalking me, I was scared she’d continue mocking me… and it never came.”

Slowly, her eyes closed. Kyoshi laughed to herself. 

“Even during my finals, she was there. When I froze, she was the one who talked for my art – gave it voice when I couldn’t. I felt like an idiot – it was mine to begin with, and I couldn’t say anything. But… She didn’t do it out of protection, or for me. She was no savior – she was just… Well, when I asked why she did it, she said she thought I was going to cry and that it looked pathetic. And then added that if I can not stand up for myself, I have no place here.”

Which was right. Kyoshi nodded along.

“Yun told me a lot of bad things about her. That she’s a scary person with a lot of power – yet anytime I came across her, all of that intimidating energy just came across as… reserved. I soon enough figured out she’s just minding her own business and does not get tangled up in petty drama. All the biting he warned me about turned out to be nothing. She was… there for me.”

Opening her eyes again, she glanced at their interlocked fingers.

“Throughout the summer, we spent a lot of time together. Whenever I’d be at the studio, working or studying, she’d be there too. She said it was because she didn’t want to sit home, and I didn’t question it. You know, we were just… good friends. She helped me get closer to the things I was criticized on – made me feel better about my shortcomings and the path of growth I’m still on. I don’t think anyone’s ever seen me like she did.”

Another bittersweet smile.

“All those days turned into weeks, then months, and anytime I wasn’t working I was there with her. We’d snack together, or grab a coffee, listen to music, sketch, sometimes silently and sometimes not. I forgot about school. I forgot about how annoying work was. I forgot about my friends. My duties. My tasks. I forgot about Yun – and I didn’t even feel guilty about it that much, because I knew the next day, when I woke up and got back to where I was the day before, I’d get to be as careless as I was.”

Then, a deep inhale. 

“Only,” she exhaled slowly, “We decided to be friends without Yun knowing. From the first moment on, he outright stated he hates her, and that she’s just bitter and unlikeable. I knew I could not tell him that I didn’t share his feelings – I never experienced the things he did with her, so we were friends in secret.” 

A long glance at her fingertips, and Kyoshi’s head turned to Kelsang.

“Some of my friends knew, but they didn’t approve of it at all. Everyone’s scared of her – and they don’t even know just how good of a person she is. It’s killing me, having to live under the covers so much, because I hate lying, but I’d hate to upset Yun more, even if technically I know I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Kelsang hummed knowingly. 

“The last time I’ve seen her,” Kyoshi’s voice dropped, “We were at the studio. I was working on my project that I wanted to hand in to Professor Daoran – to show how much my detailing improved… and that night, she did something that scared me.”

His eyebrows pulled together.

“Standing so close to me, she put her hands on my face – so tender I…” Kyoshi paused for a moment, inhaling.  “Yun’s never done that to me. Not since we started going out anyways. I had some accidental clay on my face, and she… like, really slowly, she wiped it off with her thumb. When I looked at her, she looked worried, which is unlike her – since most of the time you wouldn’t even be able to guess what’s on her mind. To see her like that made me think about – so many things. She got closer and I felt confused,” she breathed out slowly, a pink flush creeping on her cheeks from guilt. “I think she was going to kiss me? But I wouldn’t know – my friends walked in.” 

Kelsang nodded along slowly, evidently not expecting the outcome. “Is this all?”

“No,” Kyoshi turned away again, “After this, I got up and left. Without telling any of them – I got so scared that my first thought was to go and see Yun… so I did that. Since then, she didn’t say anything to me. She didn’t come to the studio on Monday – she didn’t open my texts, and… I think she’s upset with me for storming off like that. That’s why she’s not saying anything. But – but I apologized and asked for some time to think… and…”

Kelsang patted her hand, “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s not your fault – or, from what I’m able to tell, anyone’s.”

Kyoshi sighed softly. That terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach returned.

“Dad,” she exhaled, the breath almost turning into a scoff of disbelief, “I don’t like girls like that, but my friends keep insisting that they see more than I do when she’s interacting with me. I was always sure that – you know, Yun is the one for me. I never had to question myself,” she lowered, her hands trembling, “But then she looked at me the way she did and… I suddenly couldn’t remember what I was so sure of anymore. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

Soothingly, Kelsang rubbed her knuckles. 

“I kept thinking of Yun,” Kyoshi whispered, “All of the trust he put into me. All of his love for me… And suddenly I felt like I was cheating on him, because I felt something I can’t explain.” 

“Feelings don’t make you guilty, Kyoshi. What you’re feeling is the strongest indicator, coming from a place I was waiting for you to get in touch with again. Can I be honest with you?”

She nodded, sniffing softly.

“I never liked that boy. You’ve got a charming personality, you’re so beautiful and talented – and through what you told me, as well as the few times I met him… I never felt like he was genuine with you. It was not my business as long as you were happy, so I supported what you wanted. However… I can not put my finger on it, but his intentions never seemed right. He always seemed too good to be true. It reminded me of someone I used to know.”

Kyoshi felt her heart in her throat. Even Kelsang shared that sentiment? She shook her head softly. “But I…”

“It’s completely normal, sweetheart. Your feelings for him speak loudly of your ability to love – and that softness is unique and kind in the especially cold world we live in. You didn’t – no, you couldn’t see, because it wasn’t your time yet. I think it is now.”

He shifted closer, draping an arm over her shoulder. “You know that I want what is the best for you,” he hummed, and Kyoshi replied in a similar fashion. “So let me ask you this.”

A swift nod, and Kyoshi’s eyes glimmer.

“Is there something wrong with loving a girl, if that’s what your heart chooses?”

This couldn’t be real. Kyoshi blinked – once, twice. The question caught her off guard.

“I – no. Not for other people. Just not me. I can’t –,” her voice cracked, “I can’t be that.” 

“Why not?”

Kelsang was so warm. So patient. Kyoshi ached – why didn’t he understand her?

“It would change everything, Dad. Everything I thought I knew about myself – and everything I promised… What people expect from me. My future… It would all fall apart.”

He’s gentle when he states, 

“The things that fall apart weren’t meant to last the way they were anyways. Your confusion is leading you toward something you can not name yet – something you do not know yet. But whatever’s in here,” he raised a hand, placing it over her heart, “Do not fight it.”

She clutched at his hand on her heart, “I’m not – I don’t like g–..”

“That’s okay,” he whispered, “You don’t have to. Whatever you do and whoever you like, Kyoshi – you deserve to feel whole in it. I’ll support you no matter what.”

Kyoshi inhaled. Exhaled. She could feel the tears surfacing out of her slowly when Kelsang continued,

“You never told me this girl’s name.”

Kyoshi smiled bittersweetly, the name almost like a plea on her tongue, “Her name’s Rangi.”

It wasn’t meant to evoke a reaction – and yet, when Kelsang shifted next to him, his eyes widened, she knew something terrible was about to follow.

“Dad?”

* * *

An earnest laugh – Kelsang seemed mildly entertained by Kyoshi’s reaction.

“You – you went to high-school with her mother?! What?”

Technically it did not change anything – but her mind was blown. Down in the grass, Malika kept running around her, ready to play – but Kyoshi needed more time to recover. 

“We used to be good friends, you could say,” he nodded, rubbing his chin slowly. “It was very hard to be her friend. She was critical, cold, calculated… Ready to execute you on the spot, from what I remember.”

That adds up.

“One friend from the group was quite fond of her,” he laughed to himself, reminiscing, “But he was never brave enough to tell her his feelings. Even when she hinted reciprocation.”

“How’d you know she hinted reciprocation?”

“The way she loved,” he slowed down, carefully choosing his words, “It was peculiar. Unique. Tough love – she’d make sure all of our assignments were done on time. That we… never went out, seeking recklessness. She’d be harsh with her words but her heart was in the right place, she always wanted the best for everyone.”

This also adds up. Kyoshi felt her heart hammering. 

“Sooo… what happened?”

“That friend ended up sitting on his feelings until it was too late,” he carried on, “Then she went to university. Got married – from whatever little we knew, she had a daughter. Unfortunately her husband passed away young, an accident. She didn’t cut contact with us, but her priorities were always clear – especially with Rangi coming first.”

The name felt especially dear from Kelsang’s lips. Though he had never met Rangi, it sounded like he thought of her just as well as he did of her mother. She sat down in the grass slowly, gazing up at him.

“What a small world,” Kyoshi commented with finality, before laying down. Kelsang’s laugh chimed – moments later he was next to her, grunting, assuming the same position, alongside Malika who was too excited to stay still.

“Do you feel any better?”

She sighed slowly. When her gaze shifted over to Kelsang, he was smiling at her. “A little bit,” she whispered.

Taking her hand steadily, he made sure Kyoshi heard her when he said, 

“I can not push you to do anything – as my daughter, it only makes sense you’re just as stubborn as I am. But, I do hope that you forgive yourself for all the ways you… buried your truth just to feel wanted,” he hummed, his voice steady, “And for all the times you forced yourself to be fine when you weren’t, just to keep the peace,” he paused, looking at her with so much love Kyoshi’s heart quivered, “You don’t owe anyone your silence. You don’t have to earn your place, and you certainly don’t have to settle for anything less than what you deserve. You’ve always been enough. Always. ”

It was going to be a nice day. 

Perhaps things weren’t too bad.

As expected, the kitchen not only looked, but felt just as practical as Rangi. Stainless steel appliances, uncluttered countertops – something she couldn’t say because anytime she was home with Kelsang, they always made a mess –, even the tile floor was a clean shade of slate-gray. The coffee machine’s display blinked, and so did Kyoshi.

Across from where she sat – on a high stool which was uncomfortable for sitting and would only let her perch, stood Rangi. For a moment, Kyoshi allowed her mind to wonder if these horrible stools were the reason for Rangi's perfect posture. She stood there at the counter, facing away. 

The sleeveless shirt she wore revealed her arms – Kyoshi had never seen them like this. Lined with muscles, she knew it very well that this was the fruit of years of discipline and hard work. Tension she was not well accustomed with pulled Rangi’s shoulder blades closer in motion – even to the blind it would have been obvious that the girl wasn’t feeling well.

And of course, Kyoshi couldn’t help but blame herself – she disappeared, which then scarred Rangi, Rangi protected herself and now she was here. Again.

The fridge to their right hummed, the brushed steel surface adorned with a single photo – of her and Koulin, at what seemed like a barbecue, their shoulders pressed together, caught in a laugh. A few other magnets spotted it here and there, presumably memories from all sorts of places either of them visited. No notes, no lists, nothing to disturb their frozen moment of happiness.

From what Kyoshi could see, for a short moment, a sparrow landed  on the windowsill. It tilted its head, almost asking,

Well, what now?

And Kyoshi couldn’t answer.

“Kyoshi,” when Rangi turned around to look at her, there was nothing that could ever prepare Kyoshi for that concern in her eyes. “What happened between us… I…”

“I-it’s okay,” Kyoshi interrupted, “It’s… it’s okay with m–”

“It can’t happen again,” Rangi squeezed it out, and Kyoshi’s blood ran cold.

What?

It wasn’t that Kyoshi came here looking for comfort – at least, not that she knew of. The immense heartache of not seeing Rangi anymore was consuming her, and she’d rather sacrifice her pride and risk looking a fool than suffer any longer. All the feelings – feelings of difference, she battled, she bested, and… Rangi was saying…

“Not like this.”

You’re rejecting me.

Before Kyoshi could recover, Rangi inhaled deeply, doing her best to stay true to her composure. “You were – vulnerable, and I should have known better. You don’t know what you want right now – you don’t even know if you’re…”

Regret. She regrets it. Not only does Rangi regret it, but… 

“It was a mistake.”

Not even Rangi’s voice could withstand it. Breaking, she turned away.

You’re a mistake. Sleeping with you was a mistake.That’s what she’s telling me, isn’t she? That it was wrong. She thinks I’m unstable – some kind of an idiot who can not make her mind up on what she wants. 

“Not to mention,” she inhaled sharply, “You’re still with him . It wasn’t fair that I –”

Kyoshi stifled a laugh. Rangi’s eyes visited her only then – as she murmured, “We broke up.”

“That’s even worse,” Rangi grunted, almost clawing at her own face. “Kyoshi, I’m not a rebound!”

Never, ever had Rangi raised her voice like this. Taken aback, with her heart beating in her throat, Kyoshi kept picking at her nails, her teeth sinking into her lips. 

“Do you even – why… Why ?” 

What did I do wrong? Was making peace with this difference the wrong choice? I thought this would make me feel a whole – after all, even when I closed my eyes, this was all I could think about, right? Maybe I’m just broken, and nothing can fix me. I shouldn’t have listened. 

“Rangi, I –” she croaked, her tears choking her. “Did this mean something to you? Anything ?”

Nothing. Facing away, she said nothing. For the first time, Rangi was silent – not to teach a lesson, not just by default. She refused to answer.

Kyoshi scoffed. “ Great, ” she shook, her eyes moving from left to right rapidly. “That’s good to know. Do you want to know what I think, or are you satisfied that it’s finally out of your system?”

A slow turn was the reward. Kyoshi’s lips trembled as she continued, “You’re just like him! I’m used to him taking what he wanted and then pulling away, but you? At least he didn’t pretend he cared when he got up and left me there.” 

What was frustration once quickly shifted into disbelief. Rangi blinked at her, and Kyoshi knew she wanted to say something – but for the moment, nothing came.

Rangi’s jaw tightened. Suddenly, her shoulders draw inward – this isn’t the stance of someone who was going to protect herself, no. She was wounded. 

And Kyoshi’s regret was immediate. 

A week of radio silence, and Kyoshi was losing her spirit. Was Rangi really so upset about her sudden departure? It wasn’t that big of a deal, nothing to start ghosting her over. As bad as she was feeling, there were always things that could make it worse.

A warm smile, and two cups are placed in front of them. The steam curls in the air – a mixture of fruits linger, and she inhales deeply. Yun looked awfully happy.

“Had a fun time with your Dad?” he asked, grabbing his coffee after pouring cold milk into it. “You went quiet for a moment – I was so confused. You came to me that night, then spent the weekend and Monday in silence, then… poof. But I had a feeling you’d go home to him.”

Kyoshi smiled into her tea. It was forced and much like a ghost. “It’s always good around him,” she sipped, the taste rich, burning her tongue. “I’m sorry for disappearing just like that.”

With a roll of his shoulders, he accepted it, “I just wish you’d tell me so I could help you too. There’s much to do, but of course, you enjoy my priority, always.”

Liar.

A contented sigh, and he leaned back, draping an arm around her shoulder leisurely. One of her hands sat on her thigh, legs crossed as she followed him in motion, trying her best to relax. “There’s something I wanted to mention to you,” he began, and Kyoshi assumed it would be somewhere along his regular drill, humming. Exhibitions, gallery, work or some fancy folk she cared little for. 

And, it wasn’t.

“You two have gotten quite close, haven’t you?”

She froze. With her eyes pinned to the eager barista that worked away in front of them, she stuttered, “What?”

That’s all she managed. Of course, he didn’t seem phased at all.

“With Rangi.”

Sure, it was true that Kyoshi could be a blabbermouth – talking about all sorts of things, absurdities, negatives and positives alike, but this? She had kept it a secret, silent as a grave. The handful of people who knew they were friends were not close to Yun at all. Who told him? Who?

“Come on now,” he inhaled, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong?”

A gentle nudge on her shoulder – then, Yun’s fingers squeezed. Was it possible to feel impossibly hot and almost close to freezing at the same time?

“How’d – how’d you know…?”

She dared not look at him now – only his thighs are in her peripheral vision. Panic began to seize her.

“I’ve known it for a while now. You know, it really pains me that you’d do something like that behind my back,” he sighed in disapproval, his fingertips gingerly brushing her bare shoulder. “Or that you’d think I wouldn’t notice.”

“It’s not what you think,” Kyoshi added with haste, “Rangi and I are friends, nothing else.”

A surprised – no, intrigued hum. “Why did you feel the need to specify? Could it be anything else?”

A blow. Kyoshi wasn’t sure how to recover from the sudden exposure, so, she didn’t. Couldn’t.

“You don’t get it, babe. You’re always so… confused. So naive. You thought she was your friend, and look at her now – that’s why you’re sad, isn’t it? You know you can’t lie to me, Kyoshi. I can tell that you’re not okay, and I know it is because of her.”

The words hit her like a slap – a burning sensation remained, only it ached everywhere. “Do you want to be honest with me at last and tell me what happened? Why you lied?”

His words were sweet… Almost too sweet for someone with his temperament. Kyoshi knew how Yun could get – not only that, but his composure was evident to her as well. Was it not her, he would have already said worse. Why’d he ask for her to elaborate when he claimed to know? Does he really know?

Was she ever offered a hand of cards she could win this game with? Or was she forever doomed to lose? 

Softly, her hand is taken. Kyoshi’s thighs jumped from the simplicity of the motion. “I don’t want to be too harsh on you – I could always count on you to come to my defense, and that’s why I want you to tell me what happened. You’ve never given me a reason not to trust you,” he continued, his words strangely sympathetic.

Kyoshi swallowed. What was there to say?

“The time,” she started off weakly, “The time I told you that… I kept seeing her, all around campus. Do you remember that?”

She could feel his nod – the vibrations from his body when he hummed. “Yes. If you remember, that was the time I told you that she was no good. That you shouldn’t engage with her, because she is dangerous.”

Dangerous? Rangi? Why did everyone say that?

The conversation, she could recall. Even the intimidation she felt at the time whenever she’d come across the girl on the campus. But to say that Kyoshi was ever in danger was a lie.

“Does it not matter to you that I went out of my way to care for you,” his voice lowered, “And you disregarded my intention?”

“Rangi’s not dangerous,” Kyoshi spluttered, even before the first coherent thought could form in her brain. For a long moment she paused, and then sighed. “She can be a little harsh, sure. But it never felt like she tried to hurt me… I didn’t disregard your warning, Yun, I just – I couldn’t hate her, I had no reason to.”

He hummed thoughtfully, grabbing his coffee. In the atmospheric lights of the cafe, his rings glimmered on his fingers. He was silent, processing it.

“Did it ever cross your mind,” he looked at her, “That she was just using you, Kyoshi?”

Before she could answer, Yun followed up.

“She doesn’t care about you. All she wanted was to take advantage of you – and you allowed her to play you like a fool.”

“What advantage could she take of me?” she asked, feeling awfully small, a game way out of her league. She scoffed. “I have nothing to –”

“Information. You’re close to me – you’re vulnerable with me, so by being close to you, she could learn new things about me to use against me. Gods, you really didn’t think about that?”

It seemed unrealistic. Rangi barely, if ever asked about Yun – she always focused all of her attention on Kyoshi and her current wellbeing, not Yun or his. She shook her head in disbelief.

“No – why’d she want that?”

“Because she can not stand me,” he laughed, “She wants me gone. Of course, she’s got no evidence on me, but playing friends with you to get to me was smart. Only…”

She felt his head tilt against hers, his nose on her hair for a moment. It flashes through her – for just a moment, to push him away. Don’t do that. I’m uncomfortable now.

“Oh, she wants you. She’s dying for you,” he breathed, his voice momentarily rising in… sadistic excitement, was the best way to put it. “You can tell, can’t you?” 

Kyoshi’s heart dropped suddenly. Plunging into the pit of her stomach, her cheeks are on fire. “She – she’s not,” 

“Not really, ” he corrected her sickeningly sweet, “Rangi’s out for revenge. She’s always had it out for me, and since she couldn’t find any success in that, her second best attempt was to ruin us. Do you actually think she cares for you? If so, then I might have overvalued your intellect.”

Every word was like a slap. Kyoshi felt her body tremble – and that was his sign to pull her closer. “I love you, and that is why I’m telling you this, Kyoshi – you’re nothing more than a pathetic little toy for her to play with while she gets back at me. It’s so pathetic.”

Is this what love is supposed to feel like?

Everything grew blurry. A sniff, two, and she feels a warm hand on her cheeks, wiping her tears. “I know it hurts,” he hummed, “but pain’s the best teacher. Ask Rangi all the things she hurt over, and she’ll tell you the same.”

A kiss is planted into her hair, and she’s hushed – that’s disgusting . Covering her mouth, a drowned sob escapes Kyoshi – who was this? This couldn’t be the same Yun she fell in love with. 

“We’ll bounce back,” he soothed, “Together. You don’t need Rangi – I’m here for you. Kyoshi,” Yun called, turning her head just slightly. She can feel him close – kisses peppered on the trails of her tears, this realization hurt more than she dared to admit. His lips continue down, ready to lay on hers –

But, Kyoshi placed her hands on his shoulders, lightly pulling away from him. “I can’t now,” she whispered, pulling away to wipe her face. There’s not much she can see – but the shift in his aura is evident. Yun grabbed onto her wrist, tugging her back into close proximity, forcing her by the chin to look at him.

“You forget your place now,” he whispered, eyeing her up and down. There’s no time to react, let alone protest, when his lips find hers – and Kyoshi frowns, her tears pouring out, hands now giving him a proper shove. 

“I need some time alone.” she breathed hastily and with a runny nose, violated like a betrayed dog. She doesn’t know how Yun reacts – doesn’t see him anymore when she leaves. Where her feet took her were automatic – and as for a while, the studio was empty. 

A lonesome bust glanced back at her when she entered – the valley of shoulders and gentle rise of a neck, morphing into a pained facial expression. She is screaming – one hand tearing the blindfold off, the other wrapped around her neck. Only the flowers were missing.

She wouldn’t be able to tell when it was that her legs gave out on her, and she slumped onto the ground. 

What Yun said was partially the cause of her pain – what truly hurt was that the picture finally cleared up. This was him. Twisting, turning, squeezing – and she? Well, she was a fool. Not her family, not her friends – no one’s warning would reach her.

She loved – loved with so much passion, so much light. Who would have guessed it would end her this way, curled up on the ground like a wounded dog, wheezing and crying, clutching at her chest?

Rangi wanted to do nothing with her anymore, Kyoshi knew. She made it evident with her absence – pretending like she stopped existing. It meant nothing to her – not Kyoshi, and not… 

What did Yun say again? That she liked her? 

That might have been the best joke out of all of them. Why’d Rangi like someone like Kyoshi?

“You’re a liar,” she hummed, eyes closed, seeing him. When they opened, and in the mirror, Kyoshi stared back at her, she laughed. “And you – you’re an idiot for believing it.”

“Can you just – stop being so gloomy for a second? You’re ruining my mood, you know.”

The humming static and splash of colors surrounded them everywhere. Magenta, electric blue, radioactive green bleeding across the scuffed floors and tasteless walls, the air in the space smelled like sugar and childlike nostalgia. Childlike nostalgia that was reminiscent of spilled cola and overheated circuits, seasoned with mechanical whirring and the sound of a looming machine eating a plastic token.

Kyoshi buried her face in her palm – lights flickered overhead, and for the fifth consecutive time, Matsuri Japan started. The beat was hammering nails into her brain, but at least Lek seemed to enjoy himself – singing and shouting along with the crowd of children that gathered around them. 

Was she not having a crisis, perhaps Kyoshi would have jumped in for a round as well – her favorite being Tsugaru on the DDR machine. 

Every second listening to the God-awful song made Kyoshi wish she stayed home – but when Lek was done at last, with an unceremonious slurp from his neon purple Slurpee, he dropped down on the bench next to her. A bump with his shoulder against hers, and Kyoshi shoved him away – “You’re sweaty, don’t touch me,” she said, but a smile creeped on her lips.

“You could be too, but you’re just depressed,” he slurped, tipping it in her direction. Kyoshi shook her head. “I thought this would take your mind off things – it always has in the past. So, ” he inhaled slowly, “What happened?”

Kyoshi opened one eye, glancing at him unsure. Lek stared back, sweat beading on his skin. Raising his shirt, he wipes his face into it, and that – was disgusting. “It’s…”

“Rangi, right? She finally talked?”

Ouch.

“No, it’s about Yun.”

“Great, just the guy I wanted to hear about – Kyoshi, do you remember what I told you about him on day two ?”

For a moment, her eyebrows jumped, then, she exhaled. “I do.”

“If it wasn’t illegal, I’d piss on his grave – hell, even like this I would! He took my best friend from me,” he fake cried, grabbing onto her with his sweaty arms. Kyoshi shook him off – or well, attempted to, with little luck. “What is it about him? I hope you finally came to your senses and you’re ready to dump him.”

A stifled laugh, then, Kyoshi nodded. “Actually, I was thinking about that.”

“I don’t want to hear about any of your hopelessly romantic bullcrap of – wait, what? ”

Lek froze for a moment, before his hands flung into the air and he screamed, “Finally!!” – loud enough for everyone to hear. The kids who previously cheered on him glanced back at the two of them, but Lek was too occupied to notice.

“Kyoshi, this is – this is great news! Mark today as a national holiday. We’ll need fireworks, cake, greasy food – and I will actually piss on his grave! You’re finally free!”

“Tone it down,” Kyoshi rolled her eyes, dragging him by the hand to sit down. “Lek –”

“No, let me have this,” he said, grabbing Kyoshi’s hands with faux-nobility. “That – pompous prick with the personality of a wet and torn sock has been draining you for over a year! He wouldn’t even be just a regular sock, but that annoying one with the hole at your big toe and –.... anyways,” he cleared his throat, “I’ve been waiting for this. It would have been better if you realized it sooner, but –”

“I’m serious,” Kyoshi exhaled, somewhat appreciative of the out of proportion reaction, but also guilty for the same.

“I know,” Lek squeezed her hand, “You may not realize it, but we all know that this is a very hard time for you, Kyoshi. You’re barely present anymore… Since that fight, I’ve been feeling really bad, so… I’m just glad you accepted my invitation to come here. Even if you’re super depressed.”

Forcing a smile on herself, Kyoshi hummed in acknowledgement. “Kirima texted me a lot too. Apologizing about what happened… I appreciate you guys,” she breathed, twirling an arm around Lek’s neck to drag him closer, “Especially you. Even if you’re annoying.”

“Ah – Kyoshi, let go! Ouch–,” he yelped, and for the first time in weeks, she finally managed to genuinely laugh. “Hey! Kyo– rah,” the boy growled, tackling her back. “We’ll settle this old school style,” he finally retorted, and Kyoshi – well, she was up for a distraction.

“The old books say,” he started off strong, the glowing screen casting a serious shadow over his features, “seeking forgiveness for one’s sins can be only done one way.”

With her hands crossed in front of herself, Kyoshi blew a piece of hair out of her face. “Lek, we’re already standing at the –”

“Do not interrupt me, fool,” he interrupted, glaring up at her. “We’re going to play Street Fighter V. ”

Kyoshi rolled her eyes, closing in on him. She planted her hand on the side of the arcade machine, glancing slowly at Lek. “Let me guess, you’re going to play –”

“Chun Li, my beloved,” he smiled to himself almost dreamily. Kyoshi snickered. “If, and only if you can beat me,” he proposed, “will I forgive you for calling me annoying. Otherwise this insult will be passed down to my kids, and then their kids, and so on. Do you want that, Kyoshi?”

Stretching with a few long motions, she wasn’t particularly scared. “I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you – I’m the best Menat player you’ve ever seen.” 

“You’re so boring with that pick,” he complained, inserting a token into the machine. “Booooring.”

Somewhere behind them they could hear a few kids screaming over the crane machine. The Street Fighter cabinet sat far in the corner, isolated from almost all other games – the buttons worn, joysticks smoothed overtime. Despite all, it was ready for battle yet again. 

As the signature soundtrack of the game played, Kyoshi bumped into his shoulder. “Well if I’m boring with my pick, then – you’re only playing Chun Li because you wish she would ‘snap your neck with her thighs’.”

“You’re entirely correct,” he nodded, the lack of shame making Kyoshi frown before a laugh escaped her. “She could do that, and more. You don’t get it, Kyoshi,” he watched the screen, “Chun Li is heart-over-head, just like me.”

“You mean impulsive?” 

“Hell yeah.”

*  * *

The character select theme thumped through the speakers as L spun the joystick, evidently failing to show off. Next to him, Kyoshi slouched, half-draped over her side of her cabinet, barely lifting her eyes. Momentarily she scrolled through the characters, but if she really wanted to try to beat Lek – who was absolutely addicted to this game, she’d have to play into the things she knew.

“I see your future. Wanna know who’ll win?” Kyoshi and Menat echoed in unison, and a side-eyed glance was earned for that much. Then, the match began with a clatter of buttons, combos flashing, and of course, as always, Lek’s complimentary sound effects. 

A kick here, a loud Hyakuretsukyaku shouted there, and he’s locked in, “Kyoshi, block! Block, you fool –” 

Chun-Li launched a flurry of kicks – in return, Menat absorbed them with her orb, sliding back into a stance of counter. Lek imitated the best cartoonish choke he could, leaning forward. He dashed in, trying a risky overhead move to hop the projectile – his previous yells manifested into reality, and Kyoshi not only blocked, but managed to get in a perfectly timed counterattack, punishing him for his mistake.

With every minute that passed, the match got more and more brutal. Lek was yelling – and it didn’t help Kyoshi’s strained nerves when he repeatedly screeched “EX legs, baby!” over, and over, and over… 

“Oh come on! That didn’t even touch me! Kyoshi, you sent that orb on vacation and it still hit me! What is this?” 

That was 1-0 for Kyoshi. With fake promises of “no mercy this time” and every other thing Kyoshi could very well filter from Lek, they got into round two. There was a certain rhythm to her approach when it was about Menat – she always approached playing the character the same way, eerily precise but rather predictable. She could be dissected so easily, if she was playing against…

“Kyoshi, don’t move,” the mashing slowed down, and her eyes jumped to Lek. He was repeatedly tilting his head to the side, signaling something. “I think I just saw Rangi.”

That did it. Though she was advised not to move, her head snapped around in sudden intrigue and confusion – where?  

Only if she knew this was a part of Lek’s master plan. In that instant as she turned around, Chun-Li landed a full spinning kick on Menat, and the screen exploded with color. Lek cackled, but it seemed like winning the game wasn’t his greatest feat. ”Perfect K.O.!” The announcer said, and Kyoshi was in disbelief.

“Lek, you –” 

“Deny it as much as you want,” he breathed, his arms crossed in front of himself, “You like her.” 

Kyoshi’s eyes widened – she cleared her throat, “I had no idea you had to play so dirty to win.” 

Lek smirked, “What can I say? I fight dirty and I wear it like a badge of honor,” he sighed, “It’s your own fault though. You’re very easily thrown off balance. After all, what’d she be doing at an arcade? She’s not the type.” 

Perhaps it was the embarrassment that turned her so red. Kyoshi felt like the entire room just got warmer by at least ten degrees, if not more – she couldn’t help but laugh at this pathetic attempt, but more so her own reaction. “One to one,” she exhaled, doing her best to calm down, completely forgetting that she was supposed to fight this feeling. “You’re going to lose now.” 

“Kyoshi, you have no idea about the tricks I have up my sleeve.” 

* * *

“It’s unfair,” Lek threw his hands up. On the screen, Menat stood, radiant and haunting, in her final victory pose. Kyoshi leaned back, breathing hard but – surprisingly content. “I have been bested, Kyoshi. The orb knows my sins.” 

He attempted a voice that could only be considered a mockery of Menat’s intonation. Kyoshi scoffed lightly to herself, “Does that mean your kids, grandkids, and your grandkids’ kids won’t be offended by my feeble words?” 

Latching onto her, Lek threw his arm around her neck, laughing. “They’ll only remember and shame you for being so boring with your picks. At least you could have played Cammy. Or Ryu – Ryu’s cool.” 

Kyoshi looked down at her hands, still buzzing from the fight. Her chest was light, and the momentary weight from her felt suddenly gone too. Only if it could always be like this. Nodding her head repeatedly, perhaps in approval, or maybe just to appease his lack of taste in terms of characters, Kyoshi hummed, “I’ll play Cammy next time.” 

“We have to come back soon,” he urged, “Preferably before summer ends. Hmm… Next Saturday?” 

The wind stirred the trees gently as they walked – soft blues, the heat of the hot August day clinging onto the concrete much like a fleeting memory. Not quite night, but no longer the day – the bruised in-between, lavenders melted into orange, a warm tingle on the skin.

Lek kicked a half-crushed soda can down the path, his hands buried in the pockets of his pants. When he talked, he didn’t look at her, his eyes set on an emptied playground they were walking by. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” 

Kyoshi walked beside him with her arms crossed, her loosely knitted cardigan more of a cover than anything to provide warmth. Her gaze rose skyward, staring at a sheep that disguised itself as a cloud. “What do you mean?” 

“Wanting something you never knew you wanted.”

Their eyes did not meet. They didn’t have to. This topic came up again, as if Kyoshi just couldn’t escape it. “There’s little point in thinking about it now,” she said, “But I suppose you’re right. It is weird. For the longest time,” she scoffed lightly, “I didn’t even know what I was supposed to want. By that I mean – what society expected of me never really fit me anyways.” 

She slowed down softly, her voice growing a little thinner. “So I trained myself – to… fit in. Look at the boys, want what every girl wants. Sometimes it was easy too… Especially around Yun, who fits the image of a boyfriend anyone would want.”

That earned the nastiest side-eye ever. Lek looked disgusted, shaking his head in both disbelief and disapproval. “That’s bullshit, but carry on,” 

Kyoshi’s smile downturned as her eyes fell from Lek to the ground. “I just – never looked at her that way. I never had to do anything, or prove that I’m anyone other than myself. It never even crossed my mind that I could be… different.” 

“It’s all you think about now, isn’t it?”

Lek slowed down too, taking a couple of steps back, coming to a stop beside her. The air was sweet, characteristic for a night as beautiful as theirs. Kyoshi nodded – and it felt great. “It’s so good, and so, sooo bad. I feel guilty but somehow light, and – it’s just all confusing me.” 

Uncharacteristically soft, Lek started, “You know,” he turned away, “the first guy I liked was my older sister’s friend. He played bass and… he was very opinionated on Radiohead. Scandalous.” 

Kyoshi blinked once. Twice. It took her a moment to register what she really heard. “What?” 

He shrugged, “He’d come over in the summer, walk over our apartment barefoot, always carrying these weird philosophy books. I don’t think he even read them. He was just annoying as hell. But… Anytime he came by, he’d ask about the posters on my door. That made him kind of cool, because I was a kid of great taste even back then. Sometimes he’d laugh at my jokes, and – yeah. That was… kind of cool.” 

She shook her head – “Lek, that’s not what I –”

He laughed – treated this like it wasn’t the first time, like it didn’t have to be a special announcement. “Kyoshi, you’re so stupid,” he turned around, “You know what it means. I like girls – and boys. And people outside of that. And in-between.” 

Kyoshi stared at him, searching for any change in the air. There was of course none. 

“But you… you’re just you. I never knew –”

Lek let out a small laugh, not mocking in tone. “That’s the thing, Kyoshi. I didn’t become any different – for some reason you love this word. All I did was stop hiding – stop lying to myself. The world didn't end. The sky didn't crack open. My parents got weird about it for, like, five minutes, and then moved on to continue arguing about who put the Tupperware into the dishwasher. But I finally stopped feeling like I was walking around in someone else’s shoes, and that was great.” 

So Lek – he was bisexual. Good to know. But truly – it made no difference in how Kyoshi perceived him. He was still loud, still chaotic, through-and-through her friend. They’ve never had to have this conversation because to him, this didn’t change his core – who he was at the end of the day. 

“You’ve never told any of us.” 

“Nope.” 

“Why not?” 

He sighed, running a hand through his already messy-hair. “First of all, I didn’t tell people in general because it’s nobody’s business. But when I detach from that,” he wondered with a series of hums, “I guess I never felt like I had to talk about it because people perceived me to be a certain way. Funny. Loud. A gremlin, as you would say it. When I was younger, I thought that coming out would… make people look at you differently. I thought they’d stop laughing at my jokes and – shove me into a box. Treat me like I’m carrying some disease, like I’m sick.” 

“You’re not sick,” Kyoshi said immediately.

He smiled – crooked and warm. “I’m not, but I was scared they’d see me that way. Or that they’d make it weird. Say ‘that makes sense’ after looking at me, like they knew anything. I didn’t want people to think I was doing it for attention, so,” he paused, his voice dropping, “I just got really good at… playing the guy who never gets serious. It was easier to hide it. If I never show you where the door is, you can’t open it, right? That type of stuff.” 

This somehow pained Kyoshi. It felt like a heartbreak – because she had absolutely no idea how much he carried under all the terrible puns and those atrocious slushies he preferred. “I.. I know what you mean,” she said, staring at his shoulders. “I’m scared too.” 

“Yeah,” he looked back at Kyoshi, “That’s why I argued with Kirima. There’s no point in denying something so… important. I had no idea how you were feeling about her back then – at the festival? But as the months passed, I was getting this.. feeling,” he laughed, “Maybe I developed a spidey-sense. Something changed about you, but… not in a bad way. Here’s the thing, Kyoshi,” he stretched his arms, groaning in delight. “You’re so quick to destroy yourself. When I intervened, it was because I couldn’t let you do it alone.” 

Her breath was caught in her throat. Kyoshi knew she was important to Lek, as he was to her, but this? It just felt like their friendship developed. 

“You’re the first person I’ve told,” Lek added quietly, “Like… actually told. No one else knows outside of my parents and sister. Not Kirima, not the others,” a deep exhale, “And that’s okay. I know whatever you’re feeling is terrifying. My words won’t probably solve everything – but if I can live with it and still be the same person, then so can you.” 

Kyoshi huffed a small laugh – then, she reached out, hugging him from behind while placing her head on top of his. He flailed, protesting the embrace for a moment, calling her names before settling into it. “Thank you,” she whispered, the faintest smile playing on her lips. 

“For? – ack!” 

“For making me feel better about it,” she inhaled, feelings bubbling in her chest. Anticipation, eagerness, excitement – “I think you were right that day. I think… I might like her.” 

“Finally,” he said with a tone Kyoshi knew followed a roll of his eyes, “It was about time. Welcome to the club.” 

They both laughed – it was a kind of laugh that was perfect for a warm, light evening like theirs. The Sun had finally disappeared underneath the horizon, and they decided to sit for a while.

* * *

“Hmm.. What kind of guys do I like?” he sighed, glancing over to Kyoshi on the swing. “I don’t know. Those who look like they haven’t slept in three days, maybe? The haunted kind. Sad eyes. Sharp jaw. Those – silver rings with the cool designs.” 

Kyoshi just looked confused. She stifled a laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man like that.” 

“Like – you know! They look like they write poetry no one will read, and even if they do, they won’t understand shit. Oh, oh,” he kicked himself off, “I also like those who look like they would commit mild fraud. Count me in.” 

She shook her head, but her smile stayed. “You’re disgusting.” 

“It’s called taste,” he barked, without the intention to bite. “But really – I wouldn’t say I have a type. It’s just how they make me feel. Regardless of gender, might I add. I like a little danger, a bit of mystery. But ultimately, it is the connection that counts – that’s what makes it real. You can look like a top model and still be a piece of trash,” he nodded, “Look at Yun. He’s the perfect example!”

A twist. Kyoshi inhaled, and Lek stopped suddenly. “Too soon? – Eh! You knew I always hated him, so it’s whatever.” 

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Never change,” she commented, and Lek promised.

“That does make me wonder though,” he tilted towards her, dramatic. “Why Rangi? She’s the opposite of you. You’re a puppy who’d lick stranger’s hands… Rangi would bite them off.” 

Kyoshi huffed a laugh. What a terrible comparison. “You like her too.” 

“ Yes, but I just told you. I like a little danger.” 

She shook her head, smiling despite the complexity of her feelings. “It wasn’t… sudden. What I always admired about her is that she’s real. She doesn’t talk just to talk, her words are earned. When she listens, she really listens. These are things I… never genuinely had with Yun. And when she looks at me, I –”

“Stop, I’ll get jealous.” 

Kyoshi leaned her head back, groaning. “I must sound ridiculous.” 

“You just caught a bad case of the crushies. ” 

She nudged his swing with her foot, “You’re twenty-two. Act like it.” 

“Instead of telling me that, you should think about how you’re going to apologize for stealing my girl.” 

Raising her eyebrows, she glanced at him. “You never had her. The time you could talk to her, you were fighting for your life to stay on this planet.”

“I’m allowed to have my delusions,” he laughed, “Plus, she was totally into it!” 

“No, she wasn’t.” 

They both laughed. The swings swayed gently in the silence that followed. When Kyoshi glanced up, the first stars shimmered overhead, blurred soft by the city lights, but ever present.

“You know what I really like about her?” 

“What is it?” 

Kyoshi’s breath hitched before she hummed, “You have to meet her as you are. No masks, no costumes, no filters. She doesn’t let you live behind the comfort of those – challenges to see who you are, down to the bone.” 

“You’re down bad,” he laughed, mimicking her in motion by looking up. “I like her because she’s a badass – but ultimately, we’re both doomed.” 

Slowly shrugging, Kyoshi kicked the sand at her feet. Too bad she doesn’t want anything from me anymore.  

“Break up with Yun,” Lek said with finality, “And tell her what you feel. It’s not too late.” 

It was evident she was going to hesitate. He interrupted before that, “If you don’t, I’ll confess to her before you, she’ll finally accept my feelings, and me and her will play Street Fighter until we grow old with children.” 

What a terrible image, it almost tugged at Kyoshi’s heart. She couldn’t help the laugh that broke out of her. Looking somewhat serious, Lek turned to her – “Who do you think she’d main?” 

Kyoshi had no idea. Street Fighter wasn’t on her mind anymore – she was left with a fool’s hope for the future.

Yun stood there, arms crossed. 

Tall, floor-to-ceiling windows dominated one wall, draped with sheer, forest green colored curtains that softened the natural light that bled into the room. The view outside hinted at a skyline, on the left a sleek tower building, and on the right, bright-green treetops. Kyoshi’s eyes wander – she always loved this room.

The warm, wide oak-planks they were standing on creaked when either of them shifted their weight. Surrounded by multiple easels, most of them holding either half-done sketches or already finished pieces, Yun was currently working on a nature-related piece. As always, it was beautiful. Kyoshi’s eyes slowly trailed back to him.

“I didn’t think we needed to talk about this,” he said, his tone controlled and cool, the way he spoke when he was upset – measured, almost condescending even. “ Again. ”

“Look,” she said, her voice small, holding onto that last thread of hope that Yun would understand. “With all that happened – I just want you to know that I wasn’t trying to hurt you.” 

But Yun only tilted his head, his lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Right. You weren’t trying to hurt me. But you didn’t exactly consider me in this, did you?” 

The words struck her. It was still new that Yun could be so harsh with her.

“It wasn’t my intention to hurt you,” she repeated, her throat tightening.

“Yeah well, here we are,” Yun replied with a shrug, “You let it go this far with her – and that’s on you, not me.” He stepped forward, adding some details to the trees. He didn’t even look at her as he continued, “If you thought you could just throw away everything we’ve built – and all I’ve given you, for someone like Rangi… Then I don’t think you really understood what you had with me in the first place.”

Kyoshi’s heart pounded in her chest, an awful coldness spreading in her body. She looked away, perhaps that would make it so that the words didn’t hurt as much.

“Yun,” she breathed, “This isn’t about her anymore. I don’t.. I don’t understand what’s happening to me. I don’t know how to feel about us anymore.”  

“Stop right there,” he interrupted sharply, looking at her at last. “Stop playing the victim. You think I don’t see what you’re doing? That I don’t know your type? Kyoshi, you’re so selfish now. But everything’s about you, isn’t it? You’re ruining what we have, trying to find excuses, you’re – lying to me. I started liking you in the beginning because you were different from others – but now that you were given everything by me, you think you can just leave? That you’re above it all?” 

Kyoshi flinched at the venom in his words, feeling a twist inside herself she couldn’t quite pinpoint – guilt, anger, perhaps shame?

“No, no , Yun,” she whispered, trying to find her strength to stand firm. “I’m not being selfish – I just… I don’t know what it is, but something between us broke. Please, I need you to understand this.”

His eyes flickered with annoyance in response. Pacing in front of her, he laughed. “You’re the one who’s broken, Kyoshi. I’ve been patient. I’ve given you everything – my time, my attention, my money. I’ve been building a future with you in it. But if you want to go off and ruin that… fine. However, don’t expect me to sit here and let you make me the bad guy.”

He moved closer again, too close this time, until she could feel the pressure of his presence, the suffocating weight of his control. “You owe me better than this,” his voice lowered, “I sacrificed so much for you, and this is how you pay me back?”

Kyoshi took a step back, her mind a tangled mess of shame, guilt, and haunting questions: Am I doing the right thing? But she couldn’t find the words. His gaze was too much, the weight of his expectations suffocating her. 

“You’re not the same girl I thought I knew – the one I fell in love with. That girl, she cared about us,” he said with bitterness in his words, “But maybe that’s it, isn’t it? You were just playing me. Using me, like everyone else. I thought you were mine, but I guess I was wrong.”

Painfully, her heart twisted in her chest. “I wasn’t –! Stop twisting it, please. I’m still the same person as I always was – and I never meant to cause you any pain, I promise, ” she replied, voice cracking.

“No,” he retorted, “You didn’t. You never mean to do anything. But if it helps, you’ve certainly done a good job of hurting me.” 

Kyoshi felt the tears rise, but she couldn’t allow herself to cry in front of him again. 

It was such a beautiful, sunny afternoon. Not a cloud in sight – both her head and her heart ached. As she took a step back, letting the entire conversation sink, he continued.

“Do you think people are going to respect you after this?” 

Kyoshi’s eyes were looking at his hands – the way Yun’s fingers tightened around the brush. “People are going to look at you differently. Whisper. Laugh. Can you stomach that? Will you stand up for yourself?” 

It is a weak lie when her voice rises, “I don’t care what people say –”

“Yes, you do, ” he laughed, biting into her hesitation. “You don’t even believe what you just said. Do you believe you’re genuinely strong enough to live like that? Survive the looks, the comments, the disgust? All of that, for her?” 

“Stop,” Kyoshi breathed. She thought about it so often it would never leave her mind. Hearing it – it was different. Not to mention Yun was getting it all wrong – Kyoshi was doing this for herself, and not anyone else. Rangi may have been the catalyst, but she’s in the driver seat.

“She doesn’t love you,” he hissed, “What she loves is pathetic and weak girls like you. You’re convenient – my girlfriend, a little project she could save from me. How heroic. But what will happen when she’s done playing around? When she gets bored? She’ll leave, and you’ll be left with nothing.”

Kyoshi remembered suddenly. A moment fished from a sea of memories – Rangi’s laughter, soft, unguarded. That look on her face that made her feel whole – unabashedly herself. She didn’t have to say anything, or do anything. Most times, being seen that way – valuable, priceless, was enough. Kyoshi’s eyes burned.

“You don’t get to speak about her like that,” she whispered.

“No? Since I care for you, I think you deserve to know,” he said, placing his tools down. Slowly, he turned around to face the window. “In senior-high, she had a girlfriend. Oh, only if you saw the way Rangi looked at her – as if she was the Sun, so beautiful. But,” 

Kyoshi stared at his shoulders, as if her eyes could scar him. Obviously nothing happened.

“Guess what? They loved each other oh so much, but she succumbed to societal pressure – for the better. She couldn’t handle it – what people were saying about her. How they looked, like she was kind of a freak. The disappointment she was to her parents when they learned what their precious daughter became. After that, she came to her senses quickly,” he chuckled, turning around now. “Then, she became my girlfriend, because I helped her open her eyes. I could see what Rangi saw in her, she was beautiful and really talented. But… very boring after a while.” 

Kyoshi was unsure where her voice came from, when she replied, 

“No.”

Yun tilted his head, intrigued. “No? What no? It happened, Kyoshi.” 

“You – you don’t get to do that,” she whispered, trembling – but this time, from fury. “You don’t get to twist her image and intentions into a pathetic story because she loved someone who didn’t have the spine to love her back. If that girl left, that was probably for the better – she deserves better anyways!” 

“Oh, come on now, don’t be so nai –”

“And you sure as hell don’t get to compare yourself to her.”

Silence fell between them. Never, ever has she talked back to Yun or interrupted him like this – she was never given a reason to. This time, he overstepped and Kyoshi’s steady fury followed.

“I’m done,” she said, her voice worn. “And one more thing. I’m not Rangi’s ex-girlfriend. Just yours.” 

It used to be so simple.

The trembling awe of a girl who thought she’d been chosen by a star. 

A veil, once gossamer, was torn open at the seams – desperate fingers pulled the fabric apart, a senseless urge to finally see the end of the unbearable accumulation of almosts, love only present in the pools of her own irises, and never in his. 

Although his words were dressed in the most expensive of silks, they were hollow in the middle, hanging empty. Compliments like spared coins in a tin cup of a beggar. As her lips pulled into a pained smile, she realized that she did this out of habit more than the genuinity of her own heart – a strange kind of clarity washing over her. 

How long had she been perfecting herself for his gaze? Shrinking her joy so it wouldn’t ever be louder than his? Sharpening her silences to give him space? All the while, he carved her open with kindness too punctual for sincerity. An actor – taking on every role from muse to martyr. So terribly, exquisitely useful – the perfect mirror, the soft backdrop, proof that he could be gentle, loving. That’s what everyone echoed, wasn’t it? Look. Look at her. Isn’t she just so loved? 

She had carried his reflection for so long she had mistaken it for her own.

Kyoshi’s heart resembled an overfolded, wet paper crane. She would have loved to be angry, but only the grief remained the moment she stepped outside. 

Immense, aching grief. Grief for the girl who thought being chosen was the same as being cherished. For every time she planned and anticipated then sat alone with her textless phone staring back at her. For every single night she turned to face the wall, forced herself to smile, and whispered, “Tomorrow will be better” – both a prayer and a curse.

”You’re so lucky” , they said.

As if luck were measured in gifts and every time she ate alone. As if Yun saying ”mine” with a hand around her waist meant anything other than ownership. They envied her – the way he wrapped around her like a ribbon, failing to notice how tightly it was knotted. How hard it was for her to breathe, because someone was always watching. In truth, she was living a performance.

No bruises, no. He had never laid a hand on her like that.

Just the absence. The weight of not being enough unless she was perfect, pliable, pretty. The way her voice dimmed slowly, to the point where her loved ones reached for her to say, “What do you say under all the noise?” – and she failed to understand, failed to hear that voice calling out to her. 

Always too much, not enough, never just right. No one asked if she was really happy. Love shouldn’t make you disappear – and when she disappeared so beautifully, everyone applauded. A betrayal on top of a betrayal.

Although now the veil had lifted, the world only grew sharper – and was bound to be less forgiving with each realization.

Was she only gifted to helplessly tether her to him, rendering her unable to soar? Kissed, so she’d orbit him like the Sun? Kept in silence, so she’d know better the next time? As everything about him, even his affection was meticulously crafted – calculated to perfection, drawing her in carefully. 

And Kyoshi? Blindly, she dared to call it fate. 

Rangi’s addition to the picture did not feel anything grandiose – not at the time, anyways. The lack of silver-tongued illusions and guessing games around her felt liberating enough for Kyoshi to grow attached to. From the first moment on, Rangi echoed the same thing with her actions:

“You forgot how to say your own name. Can you stand up for yourself?”

And of course, Kyoshi recoiled – time and time again. Pulled away from the questions, changed the topic as if it made matters different. When you lived in someone else’s mirror for so long, the sunlight stings.

Kyoshi was never spared by Rangi. Never coddled. Her shortcomings that she’d been normally ashamed of were never blown out of proportion – they just became a proof of her living, which Rangi understood with quiet intensity. 

It encouraged Kyoshi how to be again. There were no more roles. Her laughter changed – it was less guarded, something that slipped her without thinking. She stopped checking herself in reflective surfaces less to seem presentable, and more to be authentic. When she wanted to speak, she knew that her voice had a destination as Rangi listened.

There was nothing poetic in her fall – it wasn’t an all-engulfing realization, no. A quiet, gentle kind of undoing – the peeling of the skin she’d outgrown, how she remembered that she too had a pulse, goals, dreams to pursue. She wasn’t just a reflection.

Kyoshi was not a bird that was meant for a gilded cage.

She had loved Yun, yes. Or what she thought love was – but it was rooted in ache, in pleasing, in being who he wanted her to be. A scar pulsing behind her ribs where his name used to live – the hunger, the reaching, the desperate, bruised sort of devotion. 

She had loved Yun in a way the flower loves the Sun – blind, burning to be seen. 

And she came to realize – she needed Rangi the way the sea needed the Moon – pulling back and forth gently, swaying in motion, rhythmically finding solace, perhaps if she was brave, home . 

She rose at Rangi’s nearness – swelled when she waxed, stilled when she waned. It undid her. Though she always existed in her own world, bending to someone’s gravity in a way she did now – not out of necessity, but desire made her feel terrified. Thrilled. 

Kyoshi never wanted to touch – she only reflected what she was given.

But Rangi? She made her ache to be touched. To be felt. To see if she, too, could be the tide. Just like the Moon, Rangi pulled, and Kyoshi drew closer. 

The sun hung heavy in the August sky. Far off, where the horizon blurred, a line of darkness gathered with slow intent. It swelled, boording, and regardless, the sun still shone, too proud to yield. Somewhere in the distance, thunder roared, and Kyoshi’s heart sank. 

Summer was coming to an end. The bust she was working on was half-done. She barely squeezed through her exams. And now, her relationship was over too. With her entire life in shambles, there was only one thing that was left that she wanted to do.

She really, really wanted to see Rangi.

THE MONDAY AFTER YUN & RANGI’S CONFRONTATION

Compared to what she knew, the studio was too quiet. 

The silence scraped against her ears, loud and sharp, her mind overflowing with thoughts and simultaneously empty. Each attempt had turned to a smear, a shape that was unrecognizable, a ghost of something – someone.  

Kyoshi rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, leaving a smudge near the temple. Her chest felt tight – not from panic, but a slow ache that settled deeply into her bones. Unsettling confusion. 

It was driving her insane. Then, there’s a series of knocks, and Kyoshi’s ashamed by her own reaction.

Her head turned in the direction of the door, painfully foolish hope already blooming in her chest that maybe, just maybe Rangi wasn’t as upset as she thought she was. Her heart stammered, pulling her in too many directions at once. Half-rising from the stool, the graphite is rolling away on the table. 

The door swung open. 

And it wasn’t Rangi. 

It was Koulin.

It was jarring, the way the air changed around her – it wasn’t Rangi’s significant stillness, similar in discipline but way lighter. Almost mischievous in a sense. Koulin stepped in with a grin that was just a little too wide, wearing sunglasses indoors and clutching onto an iced drink. “Woah – this place is pretty cool. I’ve heard so much about it,” she glanced around, her eyes settling on Kyoshi eventually. “You weren’t expecting me, were you?” 

Kyoshi blinked, her heart still trying to rearrange itself. She sat back down without a word, stunned by the wrongness of the moment – she truly wasn’t expecting Koulin to come around.

Perching on the corner of the desk where Kyoshi was working, she surveyed the amorph lines much like a critic would. “Wow. Stunning. A bold statement on… the… futility of… artistic expression.. and… big words. I give it four stars.” 

Kyoshi let out a breath – not a laugh, not quite, but more like an exhale that she’d been keeping in her chest for too long. It was an attempt, and she appreciated it anyway. 

Koulin tilted her head. “I thought I might find you here.”

That was Kyoshi’s sign to finally look at the girl. Eerily similar to Rangi, there were only tiny differences to their features – Koulin looked softer. A bit more easy-going, perhaps. She also allowed herself to slouch. Although the girl grinned, her eyes were just soft enough to tell Kyoshi that she knew everything.

“She’s not coming, is she?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

The smile faltered for a split moment, before she stretched. “Not today. She’s… buried in work. You know, as it is a signature for someone like her. Her Mom caught her for some extracurriculars, family stuff.” 

“I thought maybe –” Kyoshi started, but then immediately stopped herself. What did she think anyways? The ghost of Rangi’s fingertips still burned her from a few days prior. But their life was not a cheesy romance movie. She didn’t finish her sentence.

Koulin put her iced coffee down. Cold waterdroplets ran down the plastic’s side. “I know.”

Momentarily, silence stretched between them. Koulin waited, perhaps to see if there was something that Kyoshi wanted to get off her chest. Then, with a certain lightness to Koulin’s movements, she reached into her bag and pulled out a crumpled sticky note. “Just so you know, she’d murder me for this. Like – cold blood, no witnesses, type of murdering. However, I’d – rather than… sit back and do nothing.”

She slid the note to Kyoshi. From what she could tell at first glance, it was an address.

“You should wait a bit – so she’s… less busy. But when the time’s right, you should swing by. That’s where we live. I make killer pancakes, I’d be happy to make you some sometime?” 

Kyoshi started at the note. Her fingers didn’t move. Did Koulin not know that Rangi pretended she stopped existing? All of her messages were left on delivered, every place they’ve been to together was barren, and Kyoshi’s heart ached just from this much. 

She looked up at Koulin, eyes finally sparkling with something fragile – maybe doubt, maybe hope. 

Hopping off the desk, Koulin pulled herself straight, a motion Kyoshi was familiar with. She looked like someone who was proud about her delivery. “I know it’s… a lot now, but take care of yourself, Kyoshi. I also left my number on that note, so just… call me, if you need to.” 

Koulin’s eyes are unmistakably sincere. As Kyoshi hummed, her eyes shifting between the slip of paper and Koulin who was already heading for the door, she thought – this just made everything way more difficult.

But at least, it wasn’t just absence anymore. This could be a possibility, when the time was right.

Kyoshi’s blood ran cold. What she said, she didn’t mean – every single emotion she’s been shuffling through for the past weeks, perhaps even longer, came crashing down on her. 

Comparing how she felt around Rangi to how Yun treated her was, though inevitable, unfair on the girl. 

“First you come here, after I –,” she breathed heavy, “After I promised I would avoid you… then the next day, you disrespect me, then –”

“Rangi, I didn’t mean it like that,” Kyoshi flailed, suddenly gone from the chair and already all the way across the kitchen, reaching and –

“Don’t touch me,” Rangi whispered, eyes downcast and lips quaking. “Gods, I can’t even look at you.”

A couple of slow nods. That was all Kyoshi managed. It was all going terribly.

“I – but it was you who kissed me,” she whispered, battling her tears – and losing. The choking urge was too strong for her to fight. There was no way she could make sense of the distance Rangi suddenly put between them despite the night they spent together.

The noise in her head was already overwhelming – and on top of it all, Kyoshi slipped up in the worst way possible as well. She could have said anything else – anything , but this comparison cut worse than a knife.

“And it was a mistake.” 

No quake. No hesitation. It felt like being executed on the spot – Kyoshi reeled, the world fading out for a moment.

The next time Kyoshi’s looked at, Rangi scowls.

“Get out.”

Chapter Text

By mid-September, the mornings were slow and chilly, ever golden. An old song one could recite until their last breath. The light didn’t so much pour in as wander, trailing its fingers across the tops of the long grass in the back garden, pooling quietly at the foot of the white-plank cottage. The forest leaned closer, as if it was listening in intently. 

Leaves touched by the hues of amber and ochre mixed, slowly floating through the air before their graceful descent on the ground. The world around the house was hushed – a particular silence that only settled in when the summer had finally come to its end, and autumn was still settling in, unhurried.

Inside the cottage, the air smelled faintly of dried herbs and that of apples and cinnamon from the night prior. The man moved through it as he always did during the early hours of the morning – barefoot, measured, the steps familiar on the old floorboards that creaked in all the places he knew. He treaded as if he was going to make a sound, the entire slumbering forest nearby would come to life.

In the kitchen, copper pots hung from a wooden rack above the counter, dulled by the time, their handles smoothed by frequent usage. Lived-in gentleness ruled the joint space – mugs lined up in the old wood cabinets with glass that were chipped, towels wrapped around the handle of the oven that no longer matched, there was a teapot that bore the faded glaze of decades that passed over them. 

As always, the table was set for two – two mismatched mugs. Even in his solitude, the ritual remained – the seat he took held a cushion that had faded from the years it spent making their lives comfortable, and the other was untouched, but never out of place.

When his eyes travelled sideways, reminiscence took over: the shelves on the wall were lined with old jars, the labels written with doodled characters, somewhat faded already. Small, framed photos sat on a shelf underneath it, just a little under head-level: a small girl with wild hair and muddy knees, smiling from a tire swing. Another, more recent, her eyes shadowed but bright, standing at the edge of a lake, hand half-raised in the motion of a wave. The next one, the two of them were seated at the back porch of the cottage, a game of puzzle between them, laughter frozen in the picture. 

There were drawings, crayoned scrawls that dressed up the old fridge, magnets carefully placed so not even a stray wind could move it away. Everything in the space resisted the idea of haste – the corners and nooks were full of knick-knacks, giving the room a hum of memory. A bell that continued to ring forever, even after the strike.

Brewing his tea slowly, a handful of leaves fall into the hot water – a light scoff bubbled from his throat as his eyes crossed over the childlike handwriting that labeled the jar. Outside the window, the old dog laid in a patch of sun that had just crept up on the porch – the man stirred the water now and then, more so out of muscle-memory than real attention. 

The mug he poured his tea into was earth-toned, the rim chipped at the edge. The other one – on the table – was sky blue, untouched, a little like a memory. Steam curled from the mug as he carried it to the table and sat down, eyes on the book he had left on the table previously.

Outside, a crow called from a branch near the window, then fell silent. The wind, like a deep breath, moved through the trees, the leaves dancing in the cold morning breeze. Suddenly – from the shelf above the fireplace, oddly bright against the mid-morning hush, the trill of a cell phone sounded. It was clear in the stillness, vibrating – a pause, and then, he was crossing through the living-room. 

The number on display is one he was not familiar with. Regardless, he answered.

“This is Kelsang speaking.”

What he did not expect, who the other person would be on the other end of the line.

“I can’t believe that’s how you pick up the phone. Still .” 

There was no way he could hold back a smile. “Always a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” 

“It’s been… a while.”

His fingers wrapped around the mug, legs crossed, sitting out on the back porch. To his right, a deep sigh is audible – napping all day must have been real tiring for Malika.

The voice, deep and familiar from years of close companionship, was never going to change. Although not one to wrap things up in expensive paper and tie a bow on it, she seemed to be rather careful now.

“Simply a handful of years without talking, and over a decade without seeing each other.”

He paused, waiting to see if she wished to react. It was a definitive no. Kelsang continued after a short inhale, “To what do I owe the pleasure of this call, refined Headmistress ?”

A tired exhale that might have been a laugh sounded on the other end. 

“You don’t sound as surprised as I thought you would. Isolation from the world would make one assume you’re not up-to-date with the news.”

“It is my personal preference not to intervene unless absolutely necessary,” he sipped his tea, “I figured you’d talk after hearing what happened. I just wasn’t sure when.”

“Dealing with daughters – as much a blessing as it is a curse, right?”

“ Absolutely, ” he smiled, his words harboring no heaviness, aligned with hers. “Though I’d much rather pick hair from the bathroom mat until my last breath than not do it at all,” he commented, “Especially because if it wasn’t for her, there’d be no need for that at all. I don’t have hair.”

A laugh chimes on the other end – light, despite the evident weight of the situation. “She’s yours to the smallest of mannerisms,” the woman breathed, shifting audibly. “What do you know?”

“Nothing you don’t,” he replied calmly, his eyes resting on a tiny sparrow on the nearby bird-feeder. “Is she in trouble?”

“No. This isn’t an – official matter. I’m just calling as a worried parent,” she slowed down, giving the impression of someone who was still deciding on how to phrase the next thing out loud. “My daughter’s been acting strange. I haven’t seen her like this in… multiple years now. I have an idea what could have happened.”

“I’ve only had short chats with Kyoshi lately, if that’s what you’re after. Did you want her perspective on something?”

“Much happened to her lately,” she said, “But I’m only aware of a fraction. Rangi didn’t bring her up in a while, which is unlike her, given for five months straight I would not hear anything else.”

“Who would have guessed,” he smiled to ease the tension, “That she’s nothing like you on that front.”

“She’s worse, ” she laughed back, easy. “Whatever’s on her mind is written on her face. Given you know where to look. I can at least hold back.”

“It is more of a flaw than a flair,” he replied, “Because you’ve always had our endless support. You could have told us anything.”

“ Right ,” she breathed, “I truly wanted the three of you to have all my secrets. Here’s what I know.” 

Kelsang leaned back in the swinging chair, the blanket on his lap doing little to fight the morning chill. 

“I know Rangi cared and probably still cares for Kyoshi, very deeply. More than she lets on to the outside. In the beginning she used to address her formally when she talked about her, but it shifted. I know my girl very well – she’s not just invested in keeping her safe. There’s something else.”

Kelsang hummed. “I think I am missing context,” his eyebrows pulled together, “Why’d Kyoshi need her to keep her ‘safe’? Was she in any kind of danger?”

“I thought you knew,” Hei-Ran hummed immediately, and that prompted Kelsang to sit up. “The boy. He’s – the worst kind of a manipulator. Not once or twice have we watched him ruin lives. She’s lucky to have made it out the way she is.”

What a sour taste, the sweet tea from prior has suddenly turned. Kelsang frowned – “I always had a bad feeling about him, but… Kyoshi seemed happy with him, so I never actually intervened. The few times I met him, his behavior felt superficial, like he was really trying to… gain my approval through showing off.”

That’s how their conversation carried on for the following fifteen minutes. As old time friends and parents to equally troublesome and exponentially gifted daughters, there was much to share. Mostly sharing details about Yun, Hei-Ran allowed Kelsang into deeply confidential information, the reason of Rangi’s appearance and how it influenced the following months.

“I could guess Kyoshi was troubled,” he sighed, “But I want her to talk on her own accord. She knows she is safe with me, and that she doesn’t have to share whatever she doesn’t want to. I had no idea it was so bad, and from your recollection… I don’t think she knew either.”

“Probably not,” Hei-Ran agreed swiftly, “From what my daughter said, anyways. We’re in the middle of uncovering his business behind locked doors, and sadly it seems like all of us are caught up in it.”

A hum of agreement sounds, his eyes closed now. “This is bad.” 

In return, a similar hum sounded.

“Don’t worry too much for her,” she continued, “I know that she’s perfectly capable of making her own choices – that are good choices. Not to mention I can see all of Rangi’s emotions when she speaks of her. I don’t know what you do or don’t know about your daughter, but…”

Kelsang waited quietly.

“She never said the words, but I know. You can only love someone when you talk like she does. Even if it is tough love.”

“Sounds familiar,” Kelsang replied softly, remembering an entirely different age of the four of them. “I still recall your acts of tough love, especially around Kuruk. Only if he had stepped up instead of fleeing it.” 

“Don’t even,” she exhaled a snicker, “Do you think there’s a point in forcing the truth out of Rangi? I have never been the emotional Mother figure in her life, however…”

“It’s never late to be,” Kelsang interrupted, “Will it change things if you sit down to talk with her?”

“It may change the rift between us,” Hei-Ran hummed, “I don’t know how to do it though. How do you sit down with your girl?”

“Well,” he groaned, getting up from the comfort of the bench, “It is never planned quite like this. It just happens when she wants to talk. Sometimes we drink tea – or eat something sweet while talking.”

Moments of silence followed, before Kelsang asked back with a firm Hello?

“I’m here, I’m here,” she shook it off, clearly torn. “We just – never sat down to discuss feelings before. Not really . No profound mother-daughter chat over sweet pie and idle dream-talk.”

“It works,” he shrugged, not taking the comment to heart.

“What I’m saying is,” Hei-Ran’s voice grew softer, “I don’t know how to help her.”

“Don’t try to fix her or her problems,” he advised, “Just be there as she goes through it. If she wants to reach out, she needs to know she can. You can nudge her, but don’t push it. If her personality is truly anything like yours, she’ll send death glares at anyone for less.”

Another light laugh. “It seems like living near the woods did bring you closer to enlightenment,” she replied, “I’ll try to talk to her.”

“I’ll save your number,” he nodded, pushing the door in gently. “Maybe the next time you call won’t be in many years from now on.”

All in good heart, they were ready to part. Only…

“There’s one more thing,” Hei-Ran spoke up, her voice dangerously low now. “Have you heard anything from Jianzhu?”

“No,” he replied without any hesitation, “Not at all.”

She concluded with a hum, “I see. I do wonder what he’s up to now.” 

“Me too.”

A small patch of slate-colored stones led the way from an iron gate to the steps. The walls of the house were clay-white, lined with narrow, vertical windows that glimmered in gold when the afternoon sun hit them from a specific angle. Hedges and a handful of rose bushes huddled the path as she passed, her feet taking her a familiar way without paying it too much mind.

Though she did not live here any longer, her key still turned clean in the lock.

“Mom?”

Her voice slipped in the space softly, as if she was wary to disturb the eerily settled silence.

She stepped out of her shoes in the entryway, placing them under a small marble bench that sat beside the coat rack. Without a sound, her coat slid onto the hook, and her bag, after a moment of searching and finding, sat down onto the bench itself.

The floors were wide and honey-toned with rust-red and the slightest hues of aubergine. Abstracts, curated ink-line drawings, old black-and-white photographs adorned the walls in minimalist frames. The palette of the living room she passed through to the stairs was deep red, sienna and that of warm sand, some black and brass accents to create contrast. 

The built-in bookshelves were lined with books, arranged not only by size but color too. A few small sculptures sat on the clean glass surfaces, but nothing sentimental was ever present.

Regardless, Rangi tied many good memories to this space.

Not to mention the expensive yet characteristic smell of her Mother’s perfume lingered every inch of this house. 

“Mom!”

No reply, still. However, she could hear the faintest rustle of papers fall down the hall after climbing all the steps. She hurried down the sleek corridor, her footsteps muted by the runner, fingers holding tightly to the reason of her presence.

The door to the study was half-open – as always. Though once she was prohibited from entering to not cause damage there, those days were long gone. As she placed a hand on the door to push it further open, there was she.

Seated at her desk near a tall window, papers spread in organized piles in front of her. Her glasses sat low on her nose, only so that she wouldn’t strain her eyes reading. A brisk, precise stroke on the paper, and she was done.

“You didn’t reply.”

And now, she also didn’t look up right away. 

“Thank you for coming by,” she replied with a strictly monotonous tone, finally glancing up. “Did you bring it?”

“The charger?” Rangi asked, her eyes trailing to the laptop on the desk. The one that was already plugged in. “I did, but I see you don’t really need it.”

“No,” she admitted to it immediately, “I don’t need the charger. I just wanted to see you.”

Blinking a few times to recover from her confusion, Rangi’s hands rested at her hip. “You could have said that and I wouldn’t have ran.”

Her Mother gestured at the armchair across her desk – one with soft red cushions, where she always used to perch when she was younger and wanted her attention. Sitting down there made her feel like a child again.

“I’m almost done with my work,” she hummed slowly, “I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner together. It’s been a while.”

Rangi rolled her shoulders, placing the charger on the desk. “Mom,” she exhaled long, and it was almost like looking in the mirror when her words reeled in the older woman’s eyes. “What’s the real reason you wanted me here?”

Precise fingers sat on the top of the laptop, before pressing down on it to close it. It seems like work could wait now. “Did something happen to you?”

For once, and at the most inconvenient time ever, it seemed like her Mother wanted to be like a responsible parental figure. Rangi looked her straight in the eyes. “No.” 

“You’re pretty busy lately, aren’t you?” she asked in return, her gaze lingering on her hands. Rangi covered up her fingertips efficiently. 

“With modeling my structures, yes. It takes up most of my free-time. Listen, if this is about working out, I–”

“It isn’t,” her Mother retorted immediately, “And it’s not really about your schedule at school either.”

Oh.

It seems like the woman in front of her thought long for a second, before deciding what to say next.

“Listen, I will not push you, but,” she paused, looking at her with what felt like genuine concern. “If something did happen, we can talk about it. I’m your Mother.”

Rangi scoffed lightly, doing her best not to burst out laughing. It must have been a bad joke. “There’s nothing –”

“You’re not yourself lately. I don’t know what’s going on, and – I can’t help you like this, my girl.”

So this is what it was about. The only person outside of Koulin who could read her like an open book decided to step up. Rangi inhaled long. “I’m fine. You don’t need to play good Mom now. I can handle it.”

For a long moment, her Mom pressed her eyelids together. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that. “It’s about Kyoshi, isn’t it?”

Rangi bit down her tongue. It was. Everything was. She knew for sure that her Mother knew that too. “It is,” Hei-Ran confirmed, while Rangi’s eyes shifted to the side.

Her Mother rose from her seat with the grace of someone who never rushed a day in her life. Stepping to a modest cabinet at the corner of the study, Rangi’s eyes shifted over there too.

It wasn’t anything grand – a dark-wood piece with brassy handles. Opening it, the woman removed a square bottle and two low glasses. The liquid she poured in mere seconds was amber in color, thick. It smelled like bitter herbs and smoke, something she had no taste for very often.

“Do you want one?” she asked without looking back, settling her own glass the desk by her chair. 

This smell reminded her of rainy days at home – the dull blocking of her senses. Evenings she could barely recall. Her Mother drinking a cup or two over a headache of a paper. 

“Yeah,” she said finally, “One.”

Then, she was given a glass. It was brought over. The glass was cold in her palm – or maybe it was just her body that was too warm. Rangi took a sip without hesitation, the sharp, medicinal taste making her frown in distaste. 

“Do not lie to me,” her Mother nuanced, taking a seat again in front of her. “You’re hurt and I can see it. You can say you don’t want to talk – but do not lie.”

Rangi didn’t flinch, however, her throat tightened a little before the next sip.

“It is about Kyoshi.”

It didn’t seem like her Mother was overtaken by panic – or shock, for that matter. Almost as if she knew already. “I figured,” she scoffed lightly, her dark bronze eyes shooting through Rangi’s head. “You spent all your time around her, so it wasn’t that hard to guess.”

“Did you invite me here to make fun of me?” she breathed, taking another short sip. Being unable to sleep well for a while now, Rangi felt her exhaustion creeping up on her slowly.

“I’m not making fun of you,” Hei-Ran replied, mimicking her in motion. “There’s no shame in liking someone. However,” she exhaled, “It does complicate your position in the investigation.”

Rangi pursed her lips without noticing. The investigation.

She wished to say she cared no longer about making Yun step over a pebble and fall on his face in a terribly embarrassing way that would make everyone laugh at him for the rest of eternity. Now, there were other priorities – many other things to work out. For one, figuring out how she could get Kyoshi off her mind at last.

Hei-Ran waited, but it was for nothing. Rangi said nothing – she only pulled her legs up onto the armchair. “Tell me what happened.”

That was the only thing she kept repeating. Rangi shook her head lightly. “Kyoshi deserves better,” she hummed softly, “I failed her.”

Rangi didn’t notice when her Mother got up – or when she crossed the room. Only when the pale, thin fingers found their way through her hair, was she pulled back into reality. “That’s not true,” she hummed, her nails ever so gently scratching her scalp. “I know for a fact it is not true.” 

It must have been that parental bullshit that their child was always perfect. Rangi wanted to reach out to swat the hand away, but the motion felt comfortable. She felt little again. Glancing up at her Mother, her visage softened. She allowed herself to be comforted a moment.

“You don’t know that.”

“Trust me,” she whispered, “I do.”

Elsewhere in the same city, that very same night, the world beyond the cramped apartment was already quieting – the town groaned long, folding into itself, wearily expanding into the characteristic hustle-and-bustle of city life. The balcony’s rusted ledges were chipped, paint worn by the teeth of time, a cheap string of fairy lights wrapped around it. There was a threadbare blanket tossed over a plastic chair, little to help with October’s chill.

Kyoshi sat cross-legged on a cushion, her eyes pinned to a corner where a glass jar was slowly filling up with cigarette butts. The sky above them was the deepest of blues with slightly gray undertones thanks to the reflection of light brightening the clouds. Around them, everything smelled like metal and smoke.

Lek leaned against the railing with a cigarette tucked between his lips, one eye squinting as he lit it. The glow of the lighter briefly painted him in gold – then, he exhaled a slow breath, the smoke ribboning out and curling into the air. 

Kyoshi pulled her knees up, sitting her chin on it. The world around her felt blurry and warm, wine-softened and a little lighter. Before they came outside, they were watching a cheesy horror movie, but it was so cheap that even sitting in the freezing cold while he smoked sounded like a better plan. 

Her eyes were red – from the exhaustion, she claimed. Windburnt. Never because of tears. As the world desaturated, everything started seeming one note – even the intensive feelings she used to battle with.

Lek, however?

He was a stubborn color in her suddenly grayscale world. His hoodie was worn at the cuffs, the chest area chipped and faded with a band or a game’s logo Kyoshi didn’t know. Even in his silence, his presence was comforting – not being alone was great. Not drinking alone was even better.

Somewhere down in the city, sirens whined. A dog barked, then it fell quiet. Uncharacteristic jazz music poured out from a loudspeaker – must have been one of the apartments nearby that enjoyed music so refined. 

As he glanced back, there was something luminous about him – Kyoshi’s despair felt less sharp whenever he was near. As if he managed to tuck away the burning summer sun between his ribcage. He says nothing – just extends a hand, and Kyoshi does too.

The bottle makes a round over a round between them – sweet ume wine, the second bottle. This time, after taking a swig and then dragging on the cigarette, Lek coughed – then stated, “One truth, two lies. Let’s play, Kyoshi. It’s too quiet.” 

“Aren’t we too old for that?”

“You should know that rules don’t apply to art students,” he exhaled long, grinning finally. “We can do whateeeever we want to.”

“Well,” she swallowed, “Aren’t we a little tipsy for that, then?”

The bottle of wine lands in her hands again. Lek sighed, turning around after he rubbed the cigarette butt against the railing, throwing it into the jar. “I’ll go first.”

He leaned his back against the metal bar – it groaned and Kyoshi felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and yank Lek back to safety. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, pursing his lips with a hum. “I once got a tattoo while I was drunk – in a place no one can see. I used to be a drummer in a death metal band… and I once – consensually – kissed a professor.”

“Not the last one,” Kyoshi hummed, shaking her head with a returned grin. “Not the metal band either – it would be on brand for you, but I never heard you boast about it… Where’s the tattoo?”

Standing in front of her, Lek shrugged, keeping his mystery. “Good one, Kyoshi,” he said, “You’re almost acting like my best-friend again. Your turn.”

She sighed, her eyes turning momentarily skyward. Kyoshi felt her own heartbeat in her ears – or was it just the wine that coursed through her veins like momentary joy?

“Umm, okay,” she slowed down, thinking hard. It was hard to be coherent for someone as lightweight as her. “I never once cried while watching dog movies. I once broke my nose trying to do a cartwheel. I… still have a tiny glass hedgehog I pocketed from Yun’s place.”

Lek looked real conflicted. “Any of them could be true,” he started his deduction, “I would say you’d cry during the tragic dog movies, so that’s a lie. As for the cartwheel… You’re not the most athletic type. Probably a lie,” he exhaled, tilting his head to the side. “The third is very detailed – I had no idea you were a pickpocket, Kyoshi.”

She laughed a little more now – shaking her head. “I did actually break my nose when I was twelve. And I’m not a pickpocket.”

Stunned. Lek complained for a few seconds, before out of pride, he started a new round. “I wrote love poetry for a crush before. I’m technically banned from the school cafeteria after a certain waffle incident… Aaand I ate glue when I was eleven.”

Kyoshi took another sip of the wine, handing it back to him. “Are you trying to fool me?”

Lek scoffed, looking down on her. “Now why would you say that?” 

“All of those are true,” Kyoshi exhaled with a laugh, “Right? The second must be the truth at the very least.”

“Damn,” Lek retorted, “I thought I was a better liar. For the record, I may or may not know how glue tastes – but it wasn’t when I was eleven, you’re right. You won’t beat me another round.”

Kyoshi thought for a long moment. Her heart was warm from the overwhelming support Lek offered – having a drink with her, offering to watch bad horror movies, playing stupid games. He was no fool, he knew perfectly when Kyoshi shifted into the mask she perfected over the years. Lonely, that’s what she was – but never around him.

“When I was a kid, I had an imaginary friend. He had a monocle – and for some reason, he hated jazz music… Once I got stuck in a tree during a game of hide and seek – for three hours. And… I slept with Rangi.”

Lek cackled mid-sip, coughing a little. “You committed to it this time around,” he commented, grinning.

“Just pick one.”

“Well… First of all, you and Rangi? I mean we knew that she used to like you, but she didn’t talk to you for months now. You should keep your daydreams to yourself,” he inhaled sharply, “I feel like getting stuck sounds like you. That’s my vote.”

Kyoshi didn’t respond – didn’t laugh.

Her eyelids pressed together softly – and eventually, Lek’s smile faltered. “That’s the truth, right Kyoshi?”

Kyoshi opened her eyes – staring him blank in the face. Her face was unreadable, tired. She didn’t say anything – didn’t deny anything. Lek immediately perked up.

“You’re shitting me.”

Silence, still.

“Kyoshi,” he called out, voice tighter a beat. “No, hold on – what the hell do you mean you and Rangi slept together? Like – did you sleep in the same bed, or…”

She turned her head away, eyes set on the fraction of light in the glass jar’s side. “I wouldn’t be like this if it was just sleeping, Lek.”

His mouth opened – closed. He furrowed his eyebrows, suddenly looking like the owner of a terrible headache. “You.. tell me you’re kidding.”

Kyoshi’s throat bobbed lightly. “Does it look like I’m kidding?”

“You and her? When ?”

A small wince. “The end of August.”

The jazz from downstairs slowed to a lull. Somewhere down the street, a man drunkenly shouted after a cab. Up on the balcony, the air was thick with disbelief and shock. “That was months ago,” he breathed, “And you didn’t think about telling me?” 

Kyoshi inhaled softly. “I did,” she mumbled, “And I still couldn’t do it. It’s just… I don’t know. It didn’t end on a good note.”

“Was she bad?”

Oh, that earned a look from Kyoshi. Not a deathglare, no – the flushed shock of a girl struck. She hummed. “I won’t say anything,” she added lowly, “But still, I…”

A deep inhale followed. 

“It happened. And then she told me it was a mistake – that it shouldn’t have happened. You know the rest,” she scoffed in disbelief, “She won’t talk to me. Won’t even look at me.”

Uncharacteristically in thought for a long moment, Lek sat back. His back was now against the railing, eyes appearing glossy even in the slight distortion of the world Kyoshi was experiencing. She cleared her throat. “I hate to say it,” her speech slowed down, mind fuzzy with memories, “But I think this whole Rangi thing… it won’t work out.”

Lek for once stayed fully quiet. The information was probably too much.

In the distance, a stray owl called mournful and soft. Something rustled, but Kyoshi couldn’t tell what it was. The chill had begun to creep onto her boldly, settling into her very bones.

“I’ll stick to dating boys,” she continued, “Whenever, if ever I go back to the dating scene. It’s not that important to me… I’m just – too hurt. It’s not even worth it,” she inhaled, her voice suddenly rising, “First Yun, and then she…. she…”

Kyoshi glanced at him, eyes slowly growing desperate. “Say something,” she nudged him with her foot, and Lek stared back.

“This is really bad Kyoshi,” he laughed in slight disbelief, inhaling deeply afterward. “Not to mention you’re both a terrible communicator and in denial.”

Instead of fighting the accusation, Kyoshi just took another swig of the wine. It started to taste sour in her mouth. “I’m not in denial,” she shook her head, “I know it can’t work out.”

“Here’s the thing,” Lek started, shifting onto his knees and inching closer. His puffy jacket seemed to keep him very warm, his cheeks were all red. “The question’s very simple, Kyoshi. Do you want her? Yes or no? Don’t lie to me – don’t lie to yourself. ”

“Lek, I can’t just–”

“Yes, or no?”

Kyoshi sighed. For a long moment, the memories seared in her mind, and she swallowed hard. If she could choose to be anywhere, that’s where she’d want to be again – under the loving hands of Rangi. The now quiet night’s murmur wrapped around them – only the rustling leaves, the spillt stars, Moon, Lek and Kyoshi were present. She squeezed her eyelids together.

“Yes, I do.”

Lek moved even closer, prying the bottle from her hand. “Are you willing to commit to her?”

“Yeah,” Kyoshi breathed, honesty pouring out of her like a faulty tap with a broken handle, “I’d do anything to see her happy, Lek… but… ”

Once the bottle was further away, he took her hand. Kyoshi reciprocated the touch. “Kyoshi.”

“I’m scared,” she exhaled, her words dropping low. Lek stifled a laugh. “I’m so scared Lek, I –”

“Do you want it?”

“I do, I really do –”

“Then do it scared.” 

“I’m not worthy.”

Oftentimes, Kyoshi wondered if she deserved someone as collected and determined as Rangi. With a clear idea of what she wanted to do with her life, her path was set straight ahead for her – and in contrast, Kyoshi always found herself coming to a halt, stopping to observe things that wouldn’t make a difference in the end. If anything, she was a stray – with faulty judgement and a shattered heart.

Was she worthy?

She wouldn’t dare to think.

But oh , how bad she wanted it.

And because of that – the sheer notion of wanting it, she could have it. Nothing else mattered. Not her insecurities – not the saboteur that kept pulling her back. Never, ever the voice that kept her up at night, wishing that they weren’t both girls – because if Rangi was a man, she would have been head-over-heels from the get-go. They balanced each other out in ways she barely dared to comprehend – and that was a blessing in itself.

“It doesn’t matter, Kyoshi,” he grabbed her by the shoulder, “Whether you’re worthy or not – it doesn’t matter. Do you want it? ”

Was the answer really so simple? She nodded. Over and over. The world blurred, and Lek laughed. “You’re stupid,” he huddled closer, smelling faintly of cigarettes. She hated it. “If you want it, it is yours.”

She’ll never be twenty-three again, sitting drunk on an October night with her best friend. While she could, she would do it. 

She would do it scared.  

The air near the lakeside lodge was thick with the thrumming of loud music, occasional screams, and the unmistakable scent of alcohol. Fairy-lights were hanging from the frosted windows, wraparounds, and beams on the outside. Though outside it was mostly serene, the occasional sounds of wildlife around the lake, the neon-lights and headache-inducing rave inside was promising her a bad night.

Canoes laid overturned on the deck – tied to memories Rangi thought of fondly from time to time. 

Stepping inside – the room roared with life. Laughter, clinking glasses, the heavy bouncing of people on the old wooden planks immediately overloaded her. At the hired DJ’s table, a handful of drunk girls threw themselves from left to right, both parties seemingly enjoying the proximity and the encounter. This was not where she wanted to be.

Strolling through the lodge, the next room was just a bit more quiet – still filled with all kinds of people, but a little more laid back. A massive stone fireplace dominated the wall at the middle of the room, no flame burning inside now. A cluster of people were sprawled out on the sofa and rugs, smoking weed and having a chat. This was definitely not the room where she wanted to be.

The overwhelming heat of the party bled into the chill of their October evening as Rangi stepped outside, pulling her jacket tighter on herself. Wooden planks creaked under her weight – beyond the railing and the steps that led down, a blackened lake stretched.

Koulin was nowhere on the inside – so it was evident where she would be. One place was left.

Perched on a wide railing, her back straight against a supporting beam, her best friend’s legs happily swung over the edge, back and forth. A guy – that guy with the sharp jaw and the asshole attitude Koulin cried over for weeks – leaned beside her, close enough so that his hand could brush the girl’s thighs, fingertips running across the sheer tights.

The music from the inside was faint out here – the bass distantly throbbed, and the slow pull of the water licked at the docks. It was incredibly cold outside, but there they were – stupidly close to each other, which, to be frank, made Rangi upset. It wasn’t this guy who had to dry Koulin’s tears, no. He didn’t deserve this.

Neither of them moved – and Rangi, by pure accident, caught a slow and intimate moment where he reached out to tuck Koulin’s hair behind her ears, making her flushed. A burst of laughter poured from her throat, how unserious.  

“Koulin,” she called out, making her friend’s head snap back. Anyone else would have hung Rangi for her interruptions, but never, ever Koulin.

Rangi stood there, rigid for a moment, the wrapped gift box clutched within the grasp of her whitened fingertips. The guy besides Koulin stiffened. 

No words had to be said – Koulin was already in motion, sliding off the railing, the heel of her pretty and uncomfortable shoes hammering against the wooden planks with elegant thuds as she ran to Rangi. “Rangi!” she chirped, throwing her arms around her best friend.

She knew that in a few hours, her feet would terribly ache.

That was the moment Rangi concluded, Koulin was already a little drunk. She smelled faintly of rum and coconut, with the unmistakable scent of her favorite perfume. “You made it,” she beamed, hugged, squeezed-the-life-out-of-Rangi, “And you brought a gift! Good God, I feel like we’re kids again…”

Rangi hugged her back, although a little tentatively, holding a hand firmly on her back because Koulin had a tendency to be the one snowball that started the avalanche when she had too much to drink. She was not going to disinfect her bruises every day just because she tipped over and fell. “Sorry for being late,” she said, pulling back a little. “Did you invite literally everyone?”

“Just a few people,” Koulin hummed, “But I told them they can invite anyone they want to and… Well. Here we are,” she laughed, shrugging it off. “You know how it is! The more, the merrier!”

Before Rangi could reply, the guy behind Koulin cleared his throat. “So – uh,” 

“Get out,” she said, her eyes pinned to him with a glare that could melt steel.

He opened his mouth, but Koulin already turned around – she was over the deck again, patting him on the chest, “Yeah, yeah, you should go now! I’ll catch you later,” she said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, evidently tipsy.

He grumbled something before letting go of Koulin’s hand, and the porch creaked awkwardly with his retreat. The screen door closed, and now it was just the two of them – and the bass beneath their feet.

Koulin slammed against her again, gazing at her like a puppy. “What did you buy me, Rangi?” she questioned, her eyes dropping down to the white gift box. 

“You should probably open it later,” she replied firmly, “I don’t think you’re in the right mind now, Koulin. I know it’s your birthday but – don’t drink more. You had enough. Oh and also,” she followed up quickly, “Do not go back to that asshole. I’m not going to wipe your tears again.”

Koulin was gentle when she spoke, “He’s different now, Rangi. I promise! I missed him so much,” she dragged out, sighing deeply. “He smells so good, it really gets to me…”

Somehow, that ripped unrelated memories wide open in Rangi. For a moment she appeared unfocused, before shaking her head, eradicating whatever thought washed over her. “You always say he’s different, but he never really is. Remember what you were telling me, right? You half laughed and half cried, and called him everything you weren’t ashamed to say..”

Turning serious for a moment, Koulin giggled, “Queen never cry,” she recited a stupid internet meme, and then placed her head on Rangi’s shoulder. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m so grateful… you’re like my bestest friend ever, Rangi.”

Oh, Koulin was very much the affectionate drunk. Rangi’s words definitely didn’t reach her now, but regardless, she scoffed lightly, “Alright, you sap.”

“I snatched a pack of cigarettes from him,” she giggled, “We should smoke one, for old time’s sake.”

They weren’t exactly the smartest sixteen-year-olds. Rangi had no longer thought about smoking – and even back then, it was not only a disgusting habit, but also terrible for her health. It could get to her, but since she didn’t have the temptation anymore, resisting it was easy.

“No,” she declined, “You can, but I won’t.”

“That’s no fun,” Koulin pouted, shivering next to her. 

Directly ignoring the comment, Rangi exhaled, in the chilly night it appearing almost smoke-like. “Let’s go inside, you’ll catch a cold.”