What does "still the best 1973" mean?

"STILL THE BEST 1973" is a reference to Godzilla Vs Megalon . Godzilla Vs Megalon came out in the year 1973. Solomon could be referring to the tail slide or Jet Jaguar, as both of those elements of the movie are about as strange as Zach's cartridge.

Who is Red Nes Godzilla?

Red is the main antagonist of NES Godzilla Creepypasta, and be a posthumous overarching antagonist in the sequel Godzilla Replay . He is a demonic-like entity who possessed game NES Copy Godzilla:Monster of Monsters! Melissa's death which also makes him Zachary's arch-nemesis.

Is Nes Godzilla creepypasta real?

The NES Godzilla Creepypasta is a fan-made horror story, or creepypasta, written by Cosbydaf and posted to the Bogleech forum from April 23 to December 4, 2011 .

Mothra's ethereal essence, like shimmery stardust, falls onto Godzilla, and he absorbs her power, which causes the blue energy inside him to turn fiery red . Godzilla begins to emit waves of radiation, melting Boston with each step he takes, and literally stunning Ghidorah.

to become a body - lostway7 (2024)

Chapter Text

place a dinner for the hungry;

watch how they crawl and break

It’s a need.

Yes, it was.

Much like it was a realization, the solidification of a fact, made at an importunate time, at an even more inappropriate place, and sometimes Minji truly, truly hated how the only one still capable of playing games on her like this was her own mind.

Her own weaknesses.

Her own fragility.

That was a dinner, for f*ck’s sake — an imitation, a frail attempt, but a dinner nonetheless. With her at the extreme north of the single table in the room — the way she could see but not be seen a materialization of her status —, a hundred other faces surrounding her from left to right and a hundred voices spitting atrocities but only a few barely visible, actually important, amidst the arrogant chatter and the smell of blood impregnating the walls, the ceiling, the floor underneath her boots; her goddamn nostrils .

And she couldn’t hear a thing.

Couldn’t do much other than stare and scream at herself to keep her composure, try to enjoy the drink in her chalice, take part in the discussions she was supposed to be engaged in because this, right there, was work too, even if it bored her to her bones, and she should be careful of where her attention was concentrated in when the smallest of mistakes could earn her a whole lot of trouble and twice the amount of headaches to deal with later.

But she just gave a name, recognized meaning and reason, to what had been keeping her locked in silver chains for so, so long.

And a few seats away from her, facing Siyeon — who pretended not to be telling jokes —, Handong — who pretended not to be desperate to be anywhere else but there —, and whispering to Yubin on her side — who wished to be at home reading one of her books with her girlfriends in bed —, was the owner of the keys, the architect of the maze — the master of the house.

Yoohyeon was one of the few present with actual food on their plate.

Which, in itself, was a rarity. A deviation in the lack of heat and the lifelessness that surrounded every corner of that nightmarish castle.

It was a rather odd scene, too, how she fitted in perfectly with the rest of the ocean of black clothing and elegant aura. She resembled that same pale skin and hidden hungry eyes, she was part of that world of wonder; so close to that impossible ideal that she no longer received questions, could almost pass fully as one of them, as another black dot in the room — as someone with a name and an identity that sounded, smelled like any other there.

Yet the scowling her presence caused didn’t let go unnoticed how she lacked the most crucial, blatant thing for this to be the raw, most solid truth in the first place:

A dead heart, a lifeless spot on the left side of her chest.

Unlike most of them, she didn’t have that, no; hers was pretty much alive.

Beating.

Pulsing.

Singing a song Minji wasn’t even sure the rest of them could hear for what it was, without a twisted interpretation of every skip, every quickening rhythm, to justify actions that were not, and should never be, justified with lighter words than reality forced it to be.

And yet here she was, with blood being served to her just the same. Drinking it in light sips and pretending that whatever it was being said to her had actual value, not just malice disguised as politeness.

And here Minji was, like a fool, counting the minutes for that torture to end, for those vultures to dissipate and the red density to dry so she could get a moment to breath, a second to grieve, even if there wasn’t much that could be done now that the damage was irreversible.

Because she knew too damn well where she would be heading to the second formalities were dispensed, even if she only realized the outside wind scratching her skin when the blowing whispers woke her up and the path she was taking when the low noise of her steps on covered floors turned into punches on concrete grounds, the leaves swaying and the easing of the smell in the air a stark contrast to the crowded room she had been in for hours.

It was a short intermission, a fast ending pause before more speeches were made, more politics were discussed and more pretense was pushed around as if the truth it tried to emulate wasn’t as shallow as the handshakes and respectful exchanges filling the evening. But it was, regardless of anything, a moment to be excused from all the rustling and buzzing, so out she went, to where the lights were low and the voices were but a whisper, not at all surprised when there was already a slender figure there, standing quietly, awaiting her arrival like she had done so many times in the past.

“Sneaking around isn’t a you-thing.”

The voice was humorous, restrained much like her entire figure inside the expensive clothes and position of power was — contained due to the distance, the years apart that brought forth shyness when, not too long ago, that very same interaction occurred with a lot more freedom, a lot less caution.

And Minji had missed it so, so much.

How she sounded, how her lips moved in contrast with the interest in her eyes, how her heart leaped a bit over Minji’s presence, and for a second, a precious one, Minji wished she could have stayed there for a bit, with time frozen around them for her to sink in the feelings that crashed against her so easily, completely unconcerned with silent deals or sealed confessions.

“If I didn’t know better,” one of her eyebrows went up, acutely aware of the way her whole frame was analyzed, taken in, almost swallowed by Yoohyeon with no shame. Longing, when teased by forced separation, was bound to do that — Minji was the living proof of it. “I would say the same about you.”

They shared a smile, one that said I know to the one that confessed I missed you, and the quick silence that extended between them was more a sign of overwhelmingness than lack of things to say.

Until Yoohyeon looked down, seeming a bit disconcerted.

“You look gorgeous.”

Minji’s reaction was as subtle as the whisper she received, her better judgment forcing herself to be satisfied with a small grin and a trembling chuckle instead of doing anything she could regret later although, with the way Yoohyeon spoke to her, she would be glad to send rules and laws to hell before anyone could stop her.

“You look quite dashing yourself,” she complimented with a funny expression, earning a soft laugh from the woman as they stood side by side, supposedly looking at what lived on the other side of the river when they were both aware this was just them in their avoidant state. “You didn’t tell me you were back.”

Minji didn’t mean to make it an accusation, they were way past that. But the sentiment remained, strong and genuine, and although she was good, almost perfect if not for the occasional flaws, at hiding what she didn’t intend to make public, it was quite impossible not to break right there and then when she saw Yoohyeon walking through the door unannounced, like a dream made into reality and the personification of both Minji’s dreams and worst fears.

She hoped that Yoohyeon could understand, could see that this wasn’t her being mad, just her being caring. Because it pained her to watch a sting of regret making the woman flinch and in that moment she worried a lot more about Yoohyeon being there with her than with little mishaps or what the absence of proper communication had done to them.

“I’m sorry,” her shoulders fell, fingers fidgeting in her attempt not to get closer. “I barely had time to unpack before getting in the car to come here and I really, really wanted to have called you and—” Her lips shut, her body leaning towards Minji in that uncontrollable calling for closeness, contact; anything that could break the glass walls keeping them separated. “I’m really sorry.”

Minji sighed, averting her gaze to the running water in front of them to quietly untie the hold she had of her hands behind her back and reach with her pinky to lock it with Yoohyeon’s own, making the taller woman let out a heavy sigh of relief after a moment of processing.

“There’s nothing for you to worry,” Minji whispered, forgetting for a second about prying eyes or how fast word spread there. “I’m still here.”

She breathed out in something alike to relief too once Yoohyeon mouthed a heartfelt thank you to her, her actual worries dissolving so fast that Minji couldn’t help but be concerned about what crooked expectations the woman brought with her this time around, and hell… What would she give to have a few more minutes there.

Because steps were echoing and the voices were getting louder, announcing that they had to return because of course they had to, but she didn’t want to move, couldn’t bear to step away, and if it depended on her and her alone, those inside wouldn’t hear from them for the next century.

“Do you have plans later?”

Yoohyeon was timid in her inquiry, as if testing the ground before actually stepping in.

But this wasn’t a question, no — it was a request for confirmation.

And at Yoohyeon’s careful hesitation, Minji sent a reassuring nod, tightening their hold for a brief second before undoing it to start making her way back while she could, while Yoohyeon still hadn’t reached with her claws to mark all over her, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to promise that she wouldn’t give up on her obligations or that her façade would stay intact, with no scratches or stains on it.

I’ll see you all there, she said in Yoohyeon’s mind, placing the thought there much like she would do to a rose — so delicate and sweet — and Yoohyeon’s blinding smile was enough to make the next few hours more bearable, the obvious impatience less worrisome; the upcoming rage less dangerous since this time around murder shouldn’t be high on her priorities: she had something important to attend afterwards, after all.

Something way, way more important than cleaning a death scene or wasting time explaining herself before her sentence was written.

And if showing up there a mess was definitely a no-no in her book, then to behave she would.

***

“You’re quite unpredictable, you know that?”

Minji looked up from her comfortable place on Siyeon's shoulder, furrowing her eyebrows slightly while the woman took her time to direct her gaze to Minji, the content smile on her face a masterpiece on its own.

“What’s that about?”

“We thought we wouldn’t see you here this time around,” she clicked her tongue, caressing Minji’s clothed shoulder out of habit. “I bet almost, if not everyone, thought the same.”

There was more that Siyeon wasn’t saying, that was for sure. At least not explicitly, not loud enough to be under the risk of it blowing on her face. And Minji had a feeling that the questions being made in the form of attentive eyes, as well as the worries hidden behind that fond expression, were something that wasn’t just hers, let alone new.

She sighed, curling a bit in her friend’s hug.

“Have I ever missed one of our gatherings?”

“Not at all,” Siyeon shook her head, patience dripping from her voice. “But we won’t blame you if you ever do.” She reassured, moving her hand to caress Minji’s hair the same way she used to do back when sleeping on the ground was the best they could afford. “It’s just… You look exhausted from this convention stuff and we know you haven’t been happy with things for a long, long while now. Besides…” She tested the words in her tongue, thinking of the best way to address it. Minji couldn’t help how her eyes rolled — though it was humorous all the way through. “We weren’t sure if she would be there.”

“Siyeon…”

“I get it, I get it.” Her free hand went up, laughter bubbling in her throat before it reflected on the other side of the fancy room. There was something precious in the way Bora laughed, especially when it was Yoohyeon the one causing it. “But there’s a reason why you haven’t been out since she left and we’re not dumb. We all missed her, but with you it’s different. Everything is different.” She pointed out softly but with certainty, making the older vampire go limp in her arms. “The thing is, everybody knows, Minji. And you can deny and choose to do nothing about it but you know, I know, and I think it’s time for you to live what it’s yours to live.”

Minji swallowed hard, letting her gaze linger on the drunk duo for a bit before bringing it back to the fabric of Siyeon’s suit, tongue-tied like she was known to be when that was the topic in discussion.

“Listen,” Siyeon called, probably worried that she would fall into a spiral — that wasn’t the moment for it. “We never pressed and we will keep not pressing. But we care about you. We love you. I love you. And all I want is to see you enjoying what you fought so hard to achieve.” There was visible concern on her face, a mixture of fondness and caution bright enough to make Minji’s stomach churn. “You’ll be the one to decide that, sure. But you know it, my dear. There’s not much more running for you to do.”

Minji didn’t have an answer.

Or — screw that — maybe she did.

What she didn’t have, perhaps, was that same golden bravery Siyeon had come to contour for herself — the same freedom to try, be reckless, be careless, that Siyeon did.

She had work.

And work.

And more work.

An infinity of papers to check and a thousand disputes to win.

And the last time she allowed herself to believe that her job was done, that it was the moment for a pause, a war broke out and wiped out everything she had deemed good.

Since then, the closest to a home, a place to be safe and taken care of, that she had was this little family they assembled first out of necessity, then, once there were no masks left to be pulled, out of pure, unbridled love.

Minji guessed that, at the root of it, the problem was that she never learned how to be someone for herself, without it being directly tied to being someone for everyone else. And back then, when the only life she knew was one that had death as its looming enemy, she didn’t actually have the time to think of what she would, what she could, do once things settled. Once wars were put to a stop. Once humans became more allies than threats and she became more than just a leader leading hundreds out of the misery corroding them from inside out.

Minji didn’t have the chance to feel things changing — how it trembled under her fingertips in every paper she signed or how it screamed its strength with every new gathering they left as winners, not as dead prey. She only realized it was even a thing when she was no longer called to clean the mess of bodies on the floor and blood on the walls, when she, in a complete surprise, began to actually have time to decide things consciously instead of doing what the circ*mstances allowed her to do, and now, all she had was silence.

Bureaucracy.

People to please and politics to do.

And while she was glad that the worst issue she had faced in the past decade was the eventual scarcity in human blood supplies for those distant from the big urban centers, she was still getting used to being able to sit down and breathe.

To take in what was going on around her, enjoy how the world she resided in no longer resembled the one she had once known so well.

She was learning to relax, still.

To laugh a little bit louder because there was no shame in happiness and because she could see how Yubin’s eyes glowed at the sight of her or how relieved Gahyeon got whenever she managed to let loose, forget that the weight of the world had been on her shoulders for far too long — leave it for tomorrow what could be done tomorrow because for once she wasn’t running out of time, didn’t have a debt to pay or mercy to beg for.

She was learning to love, somehow .

And by the looks of it, considering the carefulness in Siyeon and the silent knowledge shared by the other six, that was just another thing in which she was failing at.

“Isn’t it funny?”

But to fail, Minji found out, was only natural.

Human, if she wanted to ignore what made her inherently different from the Minji that had, at some point, considered failure the worst that could happen to her.

And although a stranger to the magic of flaws, Minji had been walking on this earth too long.

She didn’t have the heart to ground herself on what no longer served her — deny progress to herself and the ones she cared about because living in fear was more comfortable than unlocking the door for the unknown to enter, take a seat, make itself a place to rest and inhabit.

So she listened.

Offered quietness, offered attention.

Very well aware that Siyeon was right, much like Handong was, much like Bora was, but that she, alone, wasn’t as ready as they considered her to be — at least not yet — and that if she faltered, she had reasons to.

“We’re some of the most respected figures in our world and yet all I could think about was to be here, together.” Minji took a look around, watching as Handong and Bora screamed passionately the lyrics showing up on the big screen and Yubin leaned on Gahyeon as the youngest of them chatted with Yoohyeon. “You’re right.” She nodded, picking at Siyeon’s tie. “I’m closer and closer to just not showing up to any of these events, conventions or meetings that rarely lead to anything substantial. I can make things work without it, that’s my duty, and at the end of the day I don’t have to be there.” Her hand went to Siyeon’s jaw, caressing there for a while as Siyeon’s forehead fell into hers. “But I care about you. I care about them respecting Gahyeon, I care about taking the weight off of Bora’s shoulder; I care about making things better for those who will come after us.” Minji smiled a little. “I care about her. So I stay. Even if it doesn’t seem like it sometimes.”

Bora’s voice got louder, Handong’s laughter had no competition in terms of beauty.

Minji never wanted to leave.

“As for the rest,” she paused a little, thought over what to say and what to keep to herself — even if it was useless. “One day I’ll be bigger than this body.”

She settled on that, felt as Siyeon analyzed it with that intelligent brain of hers only to ease up in her seat, chuckle with a little nod; press a kiss to Minji’s forehead before laying her head over Minji’s in an act of trust, as if telling her that it was okay, that she would be alright, that they, too, weren’t going anywhere without her.

“What would we do without you, huh?”

“You’d survive, that’s how it goes.”

“As if.” She held Minji’s hand against her chest, sending her a wink. “But I get it. Promise you.”

“Of course you do,” she rolled her eyes again, not even hiding her teasing smile at Siyeon’s whining. “Only I know how much convincing it took for you to do something about Gahyeon.”

“It wasn’t that bad, alright?”

“It was.” She insisted. “You know it was.”

“Then you should take it from me,” the woman said, serious. “There’s only one thing more terrifying than daring,” she pointed to where the others were, her voice a concealed whisper. “Loss, Minji.” Siyeon was firm, honest, and Minji couldn’t do much more other than surrender herself to a nod. “Waiting doesn’t have to mean disappearing, the same way loving doesn’t have to mean suffering.” She finished it with a small grin, already sensing that their little hideaway would be invaded soon. “Be smart. The only thing you have to fear here is you.”

And Siyeon was right.

Out of all the possible outcomes, losing, especially when she had already lost so much, was worse a test than any rejection, any avoidance that she could get. And she knew then, as she sipped on a drink and threw her head back in laughter, that she was willing to sacrifice a thousand things, that her blood wasn’t worth much when her actual legacy resided in those six other smiles surrounding her, extending hers, making her shine with something other than the heaviness breaking her down.

That if she had to die again in order for them, any of them, to live, she would.

Without a second thought, without a second for hesitance.

Because she loved, even if she wasn’t the best at it.

Because when Gahyeon leaned on her and their fingers locked as the others danced around, she thanked heaven for allowing things to run the right course and bring her to them, be the sign of the times they needed so badly and yet had no idea if it would ever come.

Because hours later when they had to bid their short lived goodbyes to find their way around Handong’s mansion, there was nowhere that she would rather be instead of walking through those dark, centuries old hallways with a stumbling Yoohyeon hanging on her neck as she tried to stop any possible accidents and keep it to herself all the chuckles and endeared smiles that Yoohyeon always, without a fail, earned from her.

And it wasn’t just a matter of being defeated or losing ownership over something: it was about value.

About knowing dread way better than security and having to recall time and time again that it was fine to close her eyes. That she would see them again. That her endless efforts would eventually blossom and that change was promised to come if allowed space for it to settle its roots and grow.

Siyeon was right — as she usually was.

And maybe one day she would be able to write down why fearing herself was really the greatest problem in this equation but she guessed, if the way Siyeon looked at Yoohyeon was to be taken into consideration, that deep down she understood it, felt that same ache too somehow, and would share, at least to a certain extent, that same sense of helplessness she felt when the lights were low and there was just them.

It was easy, when they were around.

It was more bearable when the weight of the ring she had to pay attention to was the one they all wore.

It didn’t burn less and it didn’t drive her less mad, but it was less, still, in a way — less loud, less uncontrollable, less pushing. And at least then, with the room full and a hundred parallel conversations going back and forth, she could pretend a little bit better that she was the unreachable being other people thought her to be.

At that moment, though?

The one where she had nowhere else to go and nowhere else to put her eyes in?

She couldn’t even begin to be something other than that exact Minji she wished she could bury.

“That it’s not my room, Yoohyeonie.” She stated the obvious just for the sake of it, given that it wasn’t that hard to realize where she was being led to midway through their difficult walk. And Yoohyeon did nothing but giggle, as if she had been caught and had no guilt over it. “I thought you said you could handle yourself.”

“I can!” Yoohyeon — all flushed cheeks and slurred words Yoohyeon — exclaimed with a small pout as she sat on the bed, putting a finger up to attempt seriousness. “You’re just impatient.”

Minji laughed, mostly to herself as she shook her head softly, remembering that the story always went like that no matter what, and that if she didn’t help, Yoohyeon would probably have given up on a comfortable mattress — that included sets of stairs and closed doors on its path — for the safety of Handong’s expensive couch — that included just her laying down and blacking out.

“Right,” she agreed without resistance, taking off her blazer to roll up the sleeves of the dark button-up under Yoohyeon’s blurred gaze. “And you need a shower.”

Soft, pinkish lips curled into a proper pout and strong shoulders fell under an equally black jacket.

“Will you wash my hair?”

Minji’s fond smile couldn’t be more genuine.

“I’ll dry it too.” She lowered her voice as if it was a secret to be kept between them, and there was nothing like the rush of fulfillment she had whenever the younger one reacted with that same excited sound, that same playful, yet sincere, look that meant to make Minji aware that she wasn’t alone — that this was theirs. “Come on.”

And they didn’t say much as Minji sat on the edge of the bathtub to massage Yoohyeon’s scalp. Neither did they break the comfortable silence once Minji left for the other woman to have some privacy to get dressed or when she went back to sitting behind Yoohyeon to carefully dry her silver locks, some buttons undone and hair pulled into a messy bun to contrast the pristine look from earlier. It was only when she attempted to leave after Yoohyeon was put to bed, a decision made more out of habit than anything, that the frail bubble they were in was touched.

The way it snapped, however, was more deafening than any sound made up until that point.

“I’ve forgotten how you smell,” Yoohyeon said, now drunk with sleepiness instead of alcohol. “I couldn’t sleep for almost a year after settling there and I waited by the phone for calls that never came for almost as long.” Minji looked back, startled both with the tug in her wrist keeping her in place and the words being spoken. “You don’t wanna do this right now and neither do I, so please. ” She was pleading. God, she was pleading. “Don’t you dare go,” her mumble was just as sleepy as before, eyes so heavy she could barely keep them open to shoot daggers at Minji, but her hold of a warning despite its delicacy remained, and Minji was no one to disobey. “I need you here when I wake up.”

Yoohyeon wasn’t usually that adamant — not explicitly, not really.

But Minji didn’t question the crack in her almost whisper or the despair in the hold keeping her in place.

Minji simply covered Yoohyeon’s hand with her own, knowing that they would sort this out at a better time and hearing faintly a voice in her head telling her to just grab one of the large shirts in the backpack on the corner and be done with it. She grinned a bit at the spoiled tone, humming lowly in reassurance that she would do just that, that all that Yoohyeon had to do was to exercise some of the patience she was proud of herself for having for a while longer and that Minji got her, even if she made it hard to believe sometimes.

Like that, after a quick shower and a lingering look at the woman covered by a thin layer of white, Minji finally laid down with a sigh, letting Yoohyeon intertwine their fingers to hold it against her chest and resting her nose on Yoohyeon’s nape to offer her the proximity she craved, sensing how the skipping heartbeat slowed down and how the woman’s breathing got slower, just as comfortable in its rhythm as the warmth protecting her from head to toe.

***

“What was the headline this time around?”

“They’re saying you’re going to retire—”

“It’d be a dream come true for them, I guess.”

“—that your views do not represent the whole community and that everyone should be scared of where we’re heading to—“

“I would be scared too if I were them.”

“—because vampires are vampires and humans are humans, therefore, clear boundaries should be set and clearer rules should be made.”

Minji rolled her eyes as hard as her skull allowed her, leaning on her chair with a sound of exhaustion.

“In other words, let’s go back to the eighteenth century because it was more comfortable for us to do whatever we pleased and go unpunished.” She massaged one of her temples, tried not to let it get to her. “Humans bad, vampires good. We’re living in a fantasy, didn’t you know?”

Bora only laughed, as she usually did.

“As if we could be any more divided than we already are.”

“I mean,” the shorter woman arched an eyebrow, moving around Minji’s office with the same familiarity Minji herself did, the phone she was using to read the news suddenly not worthy of her focus. “We do have a representative of the human party in our conventions and decisions,” she shrugged, casually sitting on the edge of Minji’s desk to toy with the items there. “Which still isn't the most common thing for us to have. Or something those monsters like.”

“And I agree,” Minji nodded, tapping on her lap with her fingertips. “But we have a way out now and that way includes making business and strategic moves regardless of how much we like or forgive those who, clearly, have killed us more than we have killed them.” A look was exchanged — Minji wasn’t sure she liked the humor behind the glint of Bora’s grin. “Besides, they’ll always find something to complain about when it comes to this. Or my decisions, for that matter.”

“I truly believed you’d manage to make them fall for you at some point.”

“I’m not their new toy anymore,” Minji fanned her teasing away, making a face. “No matter what I do, I’ll always be wrong in their eyes.”

“Hm,” Bora’s features lit up, the grin tugging at the edge of her lips driving Minji to the edge. “Especially if it’s about a certain hybrid, isn’t it?”

Bora, in all her glory, had been known for her bravery for as long as Minji could recall, and, deep down, this has always been something of which Minji was a deep admirer.

It was just that every once in a while the older vampire wished that Bora had a little more fear, a little less drive to poke at her wounds so carelessly, a little more worry about her precious physical integrity, because sometimes Minji truly considered strangling her for her not so subtle implications and if Minji wasn’t such a controlled person, she would have jumped on her neck right there and then — although, regardless of it, Bora’s teasing was built and meant to be taken for what it was: fondness, beautiful and vibrant fondness, and Minji had no reason to doubt it.

She heard Bora clicking her tongue, purposefully taking her out of her thoughts and murderous plans.

“I do think they have a point, though.” She said, an underlayer of seriousness rising up in her tone. “Retiring could do you some good.”

Minji opened her mouth to argue, ready to list all the things that forced her to do the exact opposite and which reinforced that this wasn’t even a real option. But Bora stopped her with a simple glare, not a word spoken, and while Minji could want to strangle the vampire at times, Bora wouldn’t hesitate to strangle her if so she decided to do.

“Don’t come at me with the whole savior speech again, I’m not here for it.” Bora started, making Minji swallow dry her words like a kid who was caught making a mess. “Okay, maybe retirement isn’t something you can do, at least not now, but a pause? Yeah, that you can do. And if you say that you don’t need it, I’ll call it bullsh*t.”

Minji sealed her lips with the purpose of remaining in silence and if it was anyone else, maybe Minji would have already vanished from that place, but that was Bora, that was her best friend, and at some point in time she had been the one circling Bora’s desk and trying to sneak some sense inside that hard-as-a-brick head of hers.

“You need to work to feel like you are worth something, I won’t speak on that, but I miss my best friend, I miss my girl, and I hate that I only see you once a year aside from the rare occasions in which we kidnap you out of this mansion.” It sounded like she was explaining the situation to a child, her voice a kind of soft and firm Minji only heard from her when younger vampires came to her for advice. So in silence, she remained. Again. For her own good. “Gahyeon just returned from her trip, Yubin just graduated again, and for the first time in heaven knows how long we are living in the same place, literally a few minutes away from each other.” Bora started counting in her fingers and Minji knew that there was one thing she missed out on purpose. “You don’t have to sacrifice what you love to get permission to live. Things have changed, Minji.”

Minji didn’t answer right away, letting the energy around them disperse before daring to open her mouth.

“Who can assure you that I’m not satisfied with how things are?”

It was a test, Bora knew.

And yet she didn’t step back, didn’t even flinch.

If anything she relaxed, way more skilled in reading Minji than she usually would admit out loud.

“The thing is, I bet you are satisfied with how things are.” She hopped off the desk, moving towards Minji to lean, instead, on her chair that could look more like a throne if Minji wasn’t such a fan of simplicity. “But it’s okay to ask for more.” The color in her eyes switched slightly, a shade of red shining quickly before retreating into the usual brown. “It’s okay to leave your fortress, you’re not on your own anymore.” She meant it. She meant it in every way. And Minji could tell that Bora would do anything, would kill anyone, to prove her that. “And, just between you and me, aren’t you tired of just watching from the sidelines?”

Bora had no intention to harm or tease with that one, that much Minji was sure.

But what she truly saw there was a plea, one that maybe the decades muffled inside her chest and which was now being proclaimed in the real world by safer lips, a braver heart.

And how could Minji refuse, then, to admit defeat when she only had herself for company every damn time the doors closed and the lights dimmed?

“I don’t want you to be someone you are not,” her friend declared, the familiar ring adorning her left hand shining beautifully by Minji’s head. “I want you to be you. And I want you to figure out what that means now that we can do something other than survive.”

That night, Minji went for a garden walk.

It had been too long since she had gone on one and, after Bora’s departure, she found it hard to do anything but.

In circles she walked. Admired the blooming flowers after the harsh winter they had, wondered if Siyeon was sitting by the window far away from there, Gahyeon in her lap and their easy, trained breaths colliding as they admired the moon in all her beauty. She went up as her small staff pretended not to think of it as odd, went down towards the bigger trees as she recalled a time of horrors and pain, and not too long after she was surrounded by the green walls of a maze, unbothered by the claustrophobia that had once been so powerful or the sounds of nature that, more often than not, served as feeding to her anxieties.

And she walked. She knew the hidden paths, the silent knowledge necessary to get out of it like the palm of her hand, and as her thoughts flew high to distract her from everything that was weighing her down fifteen feet under the ground, she stopped. Looked up. Let out an artificial sigh.

In the middle of the maze resided a statue.

A tall, perfectly preserved, carefully placed statue that Minji was more used to seeing from above than from below, like she did at that moment.

It was Icarus.

Icarus as he fell.

Wings loose and body light as there was nothing other than acceptance for him to take hold of as he reached out aimlessly — trying out of stubbornness, failing because how could he win?

She had no idea how long she stayed there, eyes up and hands crossed behind her back as if she would be the next figure to inhabit that spot — statue-like, impassive; almost turning to stone. What she did know, however, was that by the time she made it back to the main hall she had plans to put into action, and that maybe, just maybe, being exiled was no longer something she could sustain.

II.

invite her in, swallow her whole:

let the silver in your neck chain her

The decision to leave, Minji guessed, was always easier to make than the decision to stay.

Not that she considered herself someone fond of fleeing as if cowardness was the only living thing inside her, no. She didn’t even think this to be actually possible when attachment — the excess of it, at least — was one of the biggest struggles she had to face in that lifetime of hers and, at the end of every chapter she pushed through, she had perpetually been the observant martyr: the one to stop when the others ran, the one to cry last while the others turned their backs; the one to look up after the end came and there was nothing more, no one else around to tell the story aside from her.

Still, there comes a time when every living creature must learn when to be the one to walk away — if not for their own sake, then, for the sake of those they care about.

And Minji had never denied her own stubbornness, her eventual inflexibility over matters that could, indeed, be solved more easily than she pushed it to do, but she knew better now. She had gone through the same scenes, had worked with frame after frame like a tireless film-maker, turning the old pages and caressing the new ones as if that was all she could do, and by now, when there wasn’t much more that could truly impress her, Minji could barely care about poise or main roles that couldn’t give her a lot more than migraines.

So when her phone began to vibrate nonstop, different names lighting up her screen in a festival of inconveniences, she limited herself to putting it on silent and focusing on the road ahead.

She had no regrets or remorse over it, well aware that chaos would ensue regardless of what she did, regardless of her doing something or not, and if those who mattered, if her people reached out, she would be answering it in a second, but the rest?

Well.

The rest could wait.

She could return their call later, could pretend to care about the written demands and the falsely polite invasion of privacy later, and that would have to suffice because if not… Then an email would have to do. And, in all honesty, that was the most that she was willing to offer before downright denying any response at all.

Because she was back in the big city.

She was back to the center of lights, to streets that didn’t reside in the very land that was marked with her name; to loudness and rushing cars as well as people that talked and walked like people, who smelled like a palette instead of the plainness of white, who laughed and who breathed as if the world still had a chance on salvation despite, and in spite, of its ugliness and rot.

Minji was back to a civilization that she never quite left but also never stayed long enough in to feel like she fully belonged to. And for once she didn’t intend to let the experience be ruined by that other side of her life that insisted to bleed into every pure thing she managed to touch, that insisted to stain red the little good she fought so hard not to lose after so much.

So she didn’t hide the humor in her smile when people eyed her up and down inside the elevator moving up towards her apartment, wondering who she could possibly be and why she had never been seen walking around before.

She didn’t rush in the slightest, taking every second with great patience and care as she pushed her suitcase through the hallway and went past the door as if that was her routine, as if that wasn’t the very first time she would be spending more than just a night or single afternoon inside a place that had cost her more than a younger version of herself ever thought she would be capable of affording.

And her phone kept lighting up.

And the luminosity outside the glass walls looked gorgeous from where she stood, much like it would be best for her to unpack right there and then, before she did anything else.

But she had somewhere else to be, something else to do.

And if it wasn’t for Bora’s name appearing on her screen the second she unlocked it, she probably wouldn’t even be in that building anymore.

“WHAT the actual f*ck do you think you’re doing, Kim Minji?!”

The screaming was indignant, Bora’s energy a delight to fall under.

She rolled her eyes.

Fondly.

“Good evening to you too, Kim Bora. Glad to hear that you’re doing so fine and so well . I’m doing great as well, thank you so much for asking; you’re always so kind. ”

“Spare me, you idiot!” Her voice was high, so high, and Minji truly thought that Bora and her abilities should be studied. “WHY did I have to hear from your staff that you’d be going on a trip and not from you? Have you forgotten all our rules and agreements and I’m gonna kill y—”

She heard some rustling on the other end of the phone as the threat was interrupted, Bora’s now distant whisper calling her an asshole making her shake her head with a chuckle as she turned around to leave, nothing but relief in her at the idea that somehow, someway, Bora managed to end up with two of the calmest and most reliable beings Minji ever had the pleasure to meet and that at least like that they could have some semblance of balance in the face of Bora’s energetic self.

“Hey,” it was Handong, stable and centered Handong, who answered while Yubin was just next in line. Minji didn’t expect any less. “What happened with warnings and signals before important decisions, huh? We’re a family! I need to know when to be prepared to go hunt someone’s ass or be your human shield!”

“Sorry, Dongie.” Minji said with honest guilt in her voice, hearing Bora complain in the back again and Yubin hum a little. “I guess if I didn’t just move, I would have stayed there forever. I’ll be more responsible next time.” Bora screamed “next time?!” louder than Minji believed it should be possible through a phone call and if Yubin didn’t scold her for her sudden runaway, then she would for making her beloved girlfriend this mad. “Nothing happened though, so there’s no need to worry. I’m back in Seoul.” There was a string of surprised gasps. Minji found them adorable sometimes. “I’ll be staying for a while, just so you know. Also, don’t come now.” She locked the door, heading towards the elevator once more. “I won’t be here to open the door.”

“Yah! Kim Minji! Who do you think you are to—”

“I’m glad you’re back,” it was Yubin who cut the woman’s rage short this time around, her gentleness ever so present despite her own opinions and thoughts, and Minji could hear the truthfulness in the sentiment. “Just don’t let all this pressure get to you. You’re better than that.” Minji could almost see Handong nodding, could almost feel in her skin Bora and Yubin’s concern. “Go get your girl, I guess. That’s what you came here to do, anyway. We’ll be there soon.”

Then the call was finished.

And as she went back to driving, Minji was sure that she would have more than just a handful to hear from Bora and her everlasting complaints about her and her behavior during periods of crisis — like she had been known to do during the entirety of the almost three centuries they had been attached to the hip —, the same way that Handong and Yubin would make sure to pay back all the teasing and all the jokes they suffered through without shame or worry whatsoever.

She could bet that she would return home not to quietness, but to a trio decided to make her pay with laughter and lighthearted annoyance all the things she didn’t say and, if she really thought about it, Minji would be lucky if she didn’t find Siyeon and Gahyeon there as well, ready to nag at her and make her reconsider every decision she ever dared to make.

So she could pretend that all of this was a bother — much like she could pretend that she wasn’t, at least to an extent, with her heart on her throat as she pulled the car to a stop, right on that street she had visited enough times to have created a thousand maps that would inevitably lead her right to that very same place, without effort.

Minji could scoff, ignore what was being communicated to her in the simplicity of easy conversations; deny what was being presented right before her eyes.

She could turn around and regret it while she still had the chance.

But she wouldn’t.

She knew she wouldn’t.

And the soles of her snickers were touching the pavement.

The moon was hidden and the stars could barely be seen behind the dark clouds but the artificial colors were bathing her in calmness, making her steps light, so light, and in that moment, despite the worlds she could hear so clearly now, she chose anticipation instead of familiarity.

She allowed Yoohyeon to read her message in peace; didn’t meddle with the rushed wearing of her boots.

She didn’t hear when Yoohyeon ran down the stairs, nor did she pull apart every sound, every expression of surprise and euphoria that only Yoohyeon, the only one of them who could still blush and run out of breath properly, did.

She didn’t speak as Yoohyeon passed through the entrance of the elegant building and stopped in the middle of the road, didn’t meddle with the way her jacket was falling off of one shoulder, black hair slightly messy against the wind and eyes trained to search for the one who brought her out of the comfort of her couch so late in the night.

She didn’t intrude.

But she imagined it — felt every bit of it.

And there was something earth-shattering in the second that took for their eyes to meet, the destruction that followed when recognition bloomed in the space separating them being a silent explosion: no noise and no smoke, nothing that could denounce the collision that happened there; just Yoohyeon’s ragged breath getting closer and Minji freezing in place to catch her once Yoohyeon inevitably fell into her arms.

And to fall she did.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“You’re here.”

“I am.”

Yoohyeon’s arms tightened around her neck, their bodies flush against each other to the point that knowing where one started and the other ended was harder than just assuming they were a single bundle of matter and feeling.

Yoohyeon’s face was in her hair, petrified and comfortable all at once, while Minji followed the rules and settled in the warmth of Yoohyeon’s neck, close enough to the pulsing that made her skin crawl and even closer to the place she wished she would never be forced to leave.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Her whisper was confused, almost like she was afraid of what Minji moving out of her castle so suddenly meant, and it was only then that Minji felt some remorse for her actions. “Is everything alright? I could have picked you up and we could have talked about this and—”

“Yooh.” Minji called, pulling back a little to look her in the eyes again, not managing to suppress a chuckle at the distress in her face. “One, two. One, two.”

She watched Yoohyeon inhale and exhale as if they were in a meditation class and although this wasn’t a rare thing to happen, Minji had yet to get over the fact that years had passed and things had changed and they were still each other’s anchor through and through.

“Better?” Minji tilted her head and Yoohyeon nodded, offering her a more relaxed smile at last. “Everything’s okay, I’m okay, and I just decided on a whim that it was time for me to go see something new.” One of her hands went to Yoohyeon’s waist while the other went to fix the loose strands of black bothering her eyes, her white lie going unnoticed the same way it had done so many other times. Or so she hoped. “And I may or may not be running away from a very angry triad of vampire girlfriends right now for not acting like the responsible person I am so… There’s that.”

Yoohyeon laughed softly under her breath, Minji’s little scowl something that wasn’t common to be seen inside the constrictions of her daily life, and soon enough her shoulders were relaxing, delicate hands taking hold of the black fabric covering Minji’s shoulders to enjoy the same sense of groundness the older vampire was soaking in already.

“If I wasn’t so happy to see you, I’d probably be hunting you down too.” She clicked her tongue, feigning irritation. “Because what do you mean you’re not staying over at my place?”

Minji thought of arguing. Thought of listing how doing so would affect Yoohyeon’s routine and how moving places did not mean leaving business and work behind — as well as all the, unfortunate, implications this kind of selfish indulgence could have.

But she was choosing wisely this time around; she had to. So she just smiled, saved for later her excuses and the yearning in her heart, because there wasn’t much of a war left for her to fight in and at some point she would be forced to come clean: they would end up going back to it sooner or later, anyway — it wasn’t up to her.

“Instead of scolding me,” she made a face, earning a scoff from the taller one. “Why don’t you take me on a walk? I bet you have a lot to say about how this place has changed since my last visit.”

The gears inside Yoohyeon’s brain were turning at a fast speed — loud and heavy as she studied Minji, tore Minji apart, picked up on the things Minji didn’t say — and the smell of the steam coming off of it could almost make Minji lightheaded while Yoohyeon thought things over, considered scenarios and possible answers for questions she desperately wanted to make, but knew better than just bet on when she was equally aware of Minji’s taste for avoidance when cornered in a dead end

She decided to choose wisely too, then.

And in a second their hug was being broken for their hands to intertwine in a simpler token of their connection, its importance just as tall as the sky watching over them as they began to walk side by side and the hours were forgotten along with their fears.

***

She guessed she had forgotten.

Minji was aware — was made aware — of how much she had forgotten how to be a person outside the constraints of paperwork and meetings more often than she would like to admit, so much so that if one observed her for a bit, just a bit, it wouldn’t be hard to catch that frown of distress, that clenching of a fist due to discomfort — that averted gaze in shame for knowing that she was at fault, that there was no one else to be blamed here but her.

Yet, there was something about the burning she felt in her chest whenever she crossed the line separating reality and play-pretend that never quite changed throughout her phases and passing highs.

Minji never thought of Seoul as home.

She had been to pretty much every single corner of that country to be sure, more than sure even, about where she would rather have her ashes kept in and where she would rather fight death itself for the chance of not ever stepping a foot on and regardless of how long it has passed, regardless of how much the world had transformed from what she used to understand so well, that city had never evoked more than just mild distaste, mild appreciation, mild everything from her, and if she was ever to define what complex neutrality was to her, Seoul would be it.

But Seoul was the place her people decided to call home.

And Seoul, despite its dust and cruelty, was also the place Yoohyeon chose to grow her roots in.

“When I was a kid I dreamed of owning one of those pretty houses you see in movies nowadays,” Yoohyeon explained, gesturing to the houses around them as the streets got more narrow as they went and the silence of the neighborhood turned into their background music. “Then, I discovered what a skyscraper was.” Her eyes widened, arms spread up to give an example of height. “That’s when I decided where I wanted to be if things ended up well.”

Minji watched as she skipped the marks on the concrete, strands of blue and black falling down her shoulders and shivering with the motion before they stopped, Yoohyeon’s focus going to her to take hold of Minji’s own.

“You’re afraid of heights, though.”

There was a chuckle, the sound of someone who had truly believed that such a detail could go unnoticed, and Minji had to do her best to not let her hands move out of the pockets of her jacket and find their place in Yoohyeon.

“We all carry some baggage with us, Minji.” Her tone was humorous, more amused than discontented, but the glint of thoughtfulness was still there, as if Minji couldn’t tell what she truly meant by it. “Dying once can’t erase all of it.”

“You’re right,” Minji nodded. “But you were born to fly.” She reasoned, earning a bright smile in return that might as well have scared the sun if it wasn’t already in hiding by then. “To be up there, looking from above.” The comment was more to herself than to Yoohyeon but Yoohyeon heard it nonetheless, and the look she received because of it as she dropped to sit at the top of the stone stairway said that Yoohyeon had feelings about it. “It would be a shame if you never left the ground, wouldn’t it?”

“It would keep me far away from you, too.” Yoohyeon sat by her side, as close as possible, searching for her hand like her only lifeline. “Wouldn’t that be awful?”

“It would.” She nodded, looking up. “But I’d rather be the one to let you out than the reason your wings are cut.” Yoohyeon swallowed, Minji only shook her head. “But still. Good thing you’re the bravest one out of us.”

Their eyes met, lingering in each other’s pull as if they were physically unable to separate every damn time this happened.

Then, the crack of realization did the trick.

“Yeah,” it took her a bit to get out of her thoughts but once done she just leaned on Minji’s shoulder, submerged with her in the emotional hollowness that being so far from everything and everyone caused. “Good thing.”

Minji didn’t miss it — the gray and the hardness of it all.

Still, there was something wonderful, in fact, in the colors that could disrupt the inertia if it found cracks to fill. And she found that it wasn’t so hard to like a place, then, if she could look to her side and have the sight of that girl, her girl, drinking the orange juice Minji just opened for her with a serene expression in her face and enjoying the beauty that laid silent, almost undiscovered, underneath the concentre jungle’s walls and locked up windows.

Because her history with, or her lack of affection towards, a place that has once hurt her too deeply for repair didn’t have to be the only string of connection she had with it and with each second spent there, she realized:

She had forgotten.

She had become estranged from the multitudes and the myriads that could open its doors to those who were ready to be welcoming, to be willing, to new rules and new paths to take and now, as Yoohyeon leaned on her and narrated all the adventures she went on inside the perfectly normal, simply ordinary limitations of one part of her existence — the one that didn’t rely on titles and didn’t evoke the same threat or heaviness as the other did —, Minji had some peaceful restlessness in her to face.

She had to go.

She had to disassemble and be destroyed to become something else, be painted anew into a better image.

She had to go. Forward, not away. And this time, instead of leaving everything and everyone as if her legacy could survive in her alone, she had to go towards, own up to what made her who she was in nature and nurture it, accept the arms extended to her — offer her flowers to those who had never once made her believe that she deserved less than goodness itself.

And then, perhaps only then, her armor would break enough for her to step out of it completely and admit that this was what she had dreamed of.

This freedom to run around next to Yoohyeon and laugh when one of them slipped or tripped even though letting the other get hurt was out of question, out of mind; this joy of being able to share stories and pieces of herself with someone who understood, who could get her the way she needed it to, with nothing asked in return but her very own sympathy and patience.

She had no shame to feel as Yoohyeon twirled her around to noiseless music under the mirrorball of hazy lights, no reason to not throw herself back and close her eyes as Yoohyeon caught her because Yoohyeon would catch her no matter what, she always did, and if falling felt like that, then she wasn’t as terrified anymore.

So when Yoohyeon pulled her back, face to face and nose to nose for the giggling to fade out and the air around them to get thick, almost impenetrable, Minji didn’t falter.

Minji didn’t have to anymore — she had run enough.

“Tell me you’ll stay.”

The request wasn’t demanding, didn't mean to sound like a demand. But it did sound like begging, like it was only then that Yoohyeon allowed herself to let that fear rise up to the surface — when she felt safe to —, and although Minji already had her answer, has had her answer from the moment she left the mansion, she couldn’t help but purse her lips and swallow dryly at the image in front of her.

Yoohyeon was bare, completely transparent for her and her only.

She had restrained need in her eyes, franticness in the way they moved as if desperate to latch on to anything that was solid, that could give her some sense of balance.

And Minji understood her.

Minji had been her not too long ago, when she had to stand in that large airport lounge and pretend that Yoohyeon stepping on a plane again wasn’t as dangerous as her own seclusion.

“Tell me you’ll give us some time… Give me some of your time.” Her voice cracked, her hold getting tighter on the small of Minji’s back in barely contained emotion, and Minji couldn’t recall when she had last seen Yoohyeon this anguished in her presence. “I know it’s hard and there’s so much neither of us can control but I just…”

“Yooh—”

“I miss you so much.” It fell past her lips like she couldn’t stop it, could no longer keep it stuck between her teeth. “And I’m sorry if this is a selfish thing to say, but I do. I truly do. And I don't know if this will ever going to stop or if there’s a way for me to get rid of this, I...”

I just can’t do this anymore.

Sometimes, Minji thought that it was this, this same inflamed necessity, the very explanation as to why exile was an easier punishment to accept than presence.

Because she wanted it, too — was a victim of that gnawing longing too.

She missed and she didn’t rest and she spent nights moving in circles in her room, entire days wondering if Yoohyeon was eating, if Yoohyeon was being taken care of, if Yoohyeon was happy and if Yoohyeon, in all her greatness, could find a little space in her mind to dedicate to Minji, to make space to fit a bit of Minji’s essence in herself and not let her float away completely when the only thing keeping Minji sane was the thought of her and the hope of being just as important as Yoohyeon was to her.

But while Yoohyeon managed to do something about it and move on, even if that meant ignoring the pain that made her eyes tear up when no one was watching, Minji was stuck in it, tangled in the treacherous sand of remaining straight and uptight endlessly — always watching over, taking glimpses from the side; hearing from a friend of a friend and trying not to crumble when all she had to comfort her bleeding chest was the emptiness of her own room.

So not to touch was the less painful option.

To look past, to dumb down, to keep it as an uncomfortable truth instead of an admitted certainty was less challenging than facing the sadness in Yoohyeon’s eyes right there.

Yet…

Yet.

“Hey,” Minji did what she could to not scare her away, to show sincerity but not let it reach Yoohyeon with anything else but that. “I wouldn’t be here if my intentions weren’t to do just that. You know it.” She caressed Yoohyeon’s cheek, didn’t shy away from pulling her into the hug Yoohyeon herself was too shy to commence. “I failed you enough in the past for you not to.”

Minji’s never been good at making sense, anyway.

She was known for being strategic and damn good at getting things done but she wasn’t a clean battle in broad daylight: she was a bloodbath unannounced in the middle of the night, the beast in sheep’s clothing that scared even the wolves, and if she had enemies, it was worth asking them why they didn’t stand with her.

Her whole body could yell at her and she could obey, was more tempted to listen and turn around, use her keys, go north and don’t look back, but she would still cave in like the doomed soul she was, and although she had managed to keep Yoohyeon at arms length, it wasn’t like she had ever stopped searching, following her trace — silently fantasizing about being the center, the target of Yoohyeon’s flames, or constantly praying that if it was for her to be demolished, that it would be by the power of Yoohyeon’s hand, Yoohyeon’s voice; Yoohyeon’s all.

It was torture all the way.

It was a test and it was a blessing and she was aching all over as if being a vampire was exclusive to Yoohyeon and for once someone else was in the position to take and take and take away from her without her putting up a fight against it.

Because it was a sickness. Sickening, when Yoohyeon’s fingers were still tangled with hers and their conversations were as natural in its fluidity as usual and she still wished to be closer. And closer. And closer. As close as the limitations of her body allowed and then, only then, when she was already past the point of no return, break those white lines and devour, chew it, sneak under Yoohyeon’s skin and crawl in it, feel in the very fibers of her being Yoohyeon’s voice like holy water and Yoohyeon’s heart like the divine salvation that has been denied her long ago.

Thankfully, Minji wasn’t a stranger to madness — how could she be?

And as she walked Yoohyeon back home, warm silence embracing them as Yoohyeon leaned on the arm in her possession, she stayed loyal to her act: spoke politely because she didn’t know any other way, hugged Yoohyeon tight because she never knew when it would be the last; laid a kiss on Yoohyeon’s forehead because she had once vowed to protect her regardless and if there was one thing that she, in fact, knew, it was that Yoohyeon deserved it.

All of it.

Every piece of it.

Even the ugliness, which was why Minji didn’t make promises she didn’t mean to keep this time around.

So when she returned — late at night and way past Yoohyeon’s bedtime since talking seemed to be the one thing they excelled at — to a set of three familiar faces waiting by her door like they had been doing since her first night there, she didn’t question the knowing look in Yubin’s face. Or the amused, slightly cautious grin in Handong’s lips. Or the annoyed, certainly protective, frown Bora had to accompany her folded arms.

Minji just crumbled. Cleared out space for them to see who she was when she wasn’t that high above and heard everything, which wasn’t much considering how much she had already heard, nodding along with it because they weren’t wrong, they have never been, and although the repetitiveness of it all was tiring, there was a reason, a million of them, for them to be there with her, keeping her company without asking and disguising their care, instead of ignoring her and her antics as if she couldn’t end the world with her own two hands if so she wanted to.

That night she slept with Bora clinging onto her as if afraid that she would disappear, Yubin latched onto her arm the same way she used to do back when they were younger and Handong comfortably settled in her stomach, drawing circles over the fabric of her shirt as if she could tell that Minji needed the ease of repetition after that endless cycle of long days, that although sleeping was something they did purely for indulgence, being lulled into a warm slumber was the way to go when the other option was being up and senseless, burning holes in the ceilings and creating a crater on the floor with the unending circles she was sure to end up walking if loneliness came to stick its nails on her yet again.

Because tomorrow, fortunately or not, was the one certainty she had.

And she had postponed for too long. Had turned her head and blindfolded herself way more than she should be able to afford. So to honor possibility was the best she could do to atone for her stupidity. And to make things right, despite the wrongs scarring her beauty, was the duty she had been called to attend to this time — the one she had no other choice but to abide by.

***

There were two main sides to the Kim Yoohyeon Minji knew.

One was the Kim Yoohyeon.

The woman who wore black and silver from head to toe, the one who made heads turn wherever she went, no matter the time or place, and who could appear harmless to those who doubted, those who demeaned her for the human blood still running in her veins, but which proved over and over that looks could, indeed, deceive, and that being a pleasant presence was a choice, not a given.

She was the important figure who made big decisions and signed down papers that changed history as they knew forever and in every meeting, every convention, as well as every gathering, there would be a Yoohyeon who had firmness in the way she spoke, a Yoohyeon who was sure of what she wanted, much like there would be fuming clowns and enraged royalty, because who did she thought she was to be speaking so loud and who were the others to agree with her when their world had never been good at being fair or rightful?

She was an event on its own. The life of the party and the tricky player that could put anyone on their knees without so much as a look — the name that would be remembered long after her body decayed and remembering was the only thing possible for them all to do — and if Minji dared to stare from the pedestal of her private seat, she was certain to fall hostage like everyone else, with nothing to pull her apart from what made them the other and her, well, one of Yoohyeon’s.

But Yoohyeon, that same Yoohyeon with daggers for eyes and venom for honey, was also the girl Minji met over two centuries ago in a cold, dirty, deserted, and lightless street, back when Minji was starting to be convinced that there was hope somewhere and that change, perhaps, was the key to achieve the vision she always dreamed of, but rarely got to see glimpses of it in the tragic reality she inhabited.

Back then Yoohyeon was just a skeleton.

A weak ghost wandering the streets with trembling limbs and a cat-like figure rushing to hide whenever the lights got close or steps could be heard nearby — because she had been hurt; because kindness was something she was born with, not something that was shown enough to her to be taught.

And she did, eventually, become that Yoohyeon that would devastate Minji’s world — there was no way, Minji believed, that she wouldn’t. But before her came that Yoohyeon who smiled easily, that girl who clung onto Bora like glue whenever she could, and that mentor that had made them so much more approachable to Gahyeon and who now Gahyeon, as well as everyone else, could not live without even if they tried.

That was the person Minji admired the most, the safe haven Minji wished to drown in to drown out the noise outside when it got too much, and although she had nothing but pride and contentment towards the hybrid-representant of it all, it wasn’t the coldness and seriousness she saw so vivid in the Yoohyeon that crossed old hallways in high heels that she hoped to have.

It was that Yoohyeon, the one sitting across from her with nothing but peacefulness in her — glasses perfectly adjusted to her face and voice high to engage in silly arguments — that she hoped to get whenever they left the dome of darkness their true selves were tied up to.

That girl, too, had taken many shapes throughout the years and if Minji wasn’t careful enough, it was easy, so easy, to dissociate into a state of traveling between points in time, of existing inside a line of memories where she remembered Yoohyeon in so many clothes, so many colors, so many accents and so many voices, arriving at an expected time and making Minji’s entire being shake, bend in its devotedness — be reduced to dust in its latency.

She has had Minji wrapped around her fingers for too long, had manged to twist and fold Minji throughout the eras in ways that no one else could even begin to dream of doing. And it wasn’t impressive, honestly, that she could get whatever the hell she desired without even breaking a sweat so long as she knew how to abuse her own strenghts, which explained how Minji ended up at a coffee shop the following day to their hang out — and many others after that — surrounded by Yoohyeon’s human friends despite her lack of grace at dealing with such situations, especially when said situation included humans, new humans, who could not, in any way, wrap their minds around the concept of… Her.

And her posture.

And her way of speaking.

As well as the way Yoohyeon looked at her.

And how much her phone buzzed.

And buzzed.

Good lord, when would people leave her alone?

“Seems like you’re important too.”

“Hmm?”

“Yoohyeon never speaks about her family or the life she had before starting to live here,” the woman with long, silky black hair and a charismatic smile said in a whisper, apparently making good use of the rest of the group's distraction. “But we have a running joke that she doesn’t do it because she comes from money. And a family of big name.” She made a funny face, gave Yoohyeon a side glance, as if she wasn’t supposed to be disclosing that type of information. Minji couldn’t help but chuckle. “Not that it matters much, we love her for who she is, but curiosity truly is a complicated thing to deal with when it’s Yoohyeon the one we’re talking about.” She leaned on the soft fabric of the seat, eyes glistening at the sight in front of them. “How is it even possible for someone to be this transparent and still be such a mystery?”

“I wish I had an answer for this too,” Minji sighed, more at ease to speak than she expected to be though, given Juyeon’s natural skill with people, it wasn’t something to be impressed with. “Knowing her sometimes isn’t enough.” She clicked her tongue, watched Yoohyeon stick out her tongue to Jiyeon due to their disagreements, and frowned with a suppressed laugh as Juyeon laughed too. “But if you figured it out so fast, why are you saying all that to me?”

The woman turned to her, not a trace of malice in her for Minji to scrutinize.

“You’re wearing the same ring she wears,” Juyeon pointed with her head to the gold on the middle finger of Minji’s right hand. “The same ring Bora and Yubin wear. The one I think I saw on Siyeon’s hand too.” She shrugged again, seeming to be more satisfied at her own observance than interested in looking for explanations that wouldn’t be provided. “It’s not that hard to realize the connections and it’s not like she ever tried to deny it.” Her eyes narrowed, her playfulness reaching Minji with warmth, acceptance, a gentle sign that she was welcomed and cherished despite the little time they knew each other, that she didn’t have to be so hesitant, at least not there, not with them. “It’s just… Different with you, I guess.” There was a pause for thoughtfulness, a clever arch of an eyebrow. “She’s never been that nervous to introduce one of her friends to us before.”

Minji cleared her throat, suddenly disconcerted at the implications Juyeon had no intention of masking.

“Not even Bora?”

“Nah!” She dismissed, earning more laughter from Minji. “The only thing she had to worry about Bora was us having a bit too much fun. We hit it off way too easily and a little bird told me that Yooh was jealous of it,” she covered her mouth to say that in secrecy and Minji could visualize the scene as clearly as she could imagine Yoohyeon’s big pout on the drive back home. “But you… I actually think I’m at risk of having my head chopped off if I mess with you.”

Minji was about to ask why in the world would she think that but the sudden silence in the table stopped her in her tracks and when both her and Juyeon looked up to something other than each other, they found four pairs of eyes burning holes in them.

“Care to share with the class what’s so funny?”

Jiyeon inquired, eyebrows raised high and eyes serious with the single focus being her girlfriend while Minji tried to shake away the tension being caused by Yoohyeon’s equally inquisitive glare.

“Babe, quit it.” Juyeon tried to appear brave, fearless even, but Minji could see the brown of her eyes shaking and she had to pull all her strength into sealing her lips not to let out a joke or two about it. It wasn’t just Bora who seemed to know how to keep her partners on their toes. “I’m befriending Minji while you, Yoohyeon and Jimin compete to see who’s more wrong about the our drunk games. I’m using my precious time wisely—”

“ As if you’re actually good at any of those games—”

“Better than you I am—”

“Yah! Yu Jimin!”

Just like this chaos ensued and instead of avoiding it Minji simply took a sip from her water, thankful that at least that much she could do without attempting against her health, and leaned back to watch the trio arguing while Minjeong, the quiet yet kind girl sitting by Jimin, engaged in a calmer conversation with Jiyeon and Yoohyeon now that the other two decided to pass the ball.

In a subtle motion, Yoohyeon changed her focus to her, checking in on her the same way she had done before, a silent “are you alright?” that Minji answered with an honest nod, waiting for that relieved grin to appear so the woman could focus once again on what she was doing.

In that moment, as she looked around to catch the fragilities she no longer owned and the beauty she had yet to discover in its greatness, the vampire remembered thinking that she wouldn’t mind if that was what her days would turn into if she let herself exist somewhere else other than her office or the dirt drenching her title.

She could get used to being Yoohyeon’s plus one in her adventures, wasn’t opposed to experiencing for a second first time things that had been forgotten in the coffins of her memory. It was actually better, more grounding, to be able to fully unpack her bags with no ifs to stop her and not see that glint of worry in Yoohyeon’s eyes at the prospect of them being made again without her knowledge, and, to no one’s surprise, maybe the time for her to realize that being a familiar stranger wasn’t something she could keep pulling up had, at last, come.

The reactions were funny, some of the jokes never got old, but receiving soft smiles in recognition and excited greetings from both people she loved and those she was still connecting with was better than being the culprit of surprised gasps and puzzled looks that said way more in their suspicion than in their shock and that… Perhaps it was that joy, that deeper sense of belonging to a place instead of just to something, that she had been looking for since it struck her that the immutable thing there was her, not her surroundings — her world.

She still had her moments, of course; it wouldn’t be her if she didn’t. It could get too much — the stimulation, the running blood; the pressure — and it was kind of hard not to feel like a child learning how to navigate the complexity of the adult realm when it was so common for her to apologize for things she wouldn’t even bat an eye at if she was anywhere else. But if Yoohyeon wasn’t there to keep up with her, Handong or Siyeon most probably would be, and by now Minji probably knew better than to challenge them and their patience so she obeyed, turned off her phone and showed up to another hang-out, and if she got tired she could simply go out for a bit and take a sip or two from the small bag she always had with her just in case.

She wouldn’t be judged, she wasn’t doing anything wrong.

And as long as she tried, as long as she did it for the sake of doing, not for the sake of proving something to someone else, it was fine, she was fine, and that alone was good enough .

***

“I dreamed of you for the past five years.”

That was the first thing Minji heard from Yoohyeon after the night of her return.

Minji hadn’t expected anything different, really, when, although they did manage to keep themselves in check for a respectable amount of time, the hurt Yoohyeon carried in her eyes was too bright to be ignored and Minji’s restlessness would eventually, and without a fail, bring the worst of her if she didn’t do what she was supposed to and knew she had to do for them both.

She had been rehearsing how that conversation would go once Yoohyeon returned.

She had thought of what to say, had considered hopping on a plane herself to get things fixed even if she had to stand under Yoohyeon’s window for days to no end. But it was useless, always was, to be stuck on abstract paths when her feet should be welded to the ground if she wanted any progress to be made, and maybe her worst mistake wasn’t giving in to the demons telling her lies or allowing herself to be convinced that she was less than Yoohyeon thought her to be.

Maybe her worst mistake was to have stayed behind the door.

Unmoving, as if she didn’t have the power to walk away and walk out.

Because it was barely morning, the sun wasn’t even fully out yet, and she had been sitting crossed-legged on the floor by Yoohyeon’s side, hearing how her lungs expanded and shrank to release air in a motion so ordinary, so common, that Minji felt a little foolish for admiring it so much; thought, as Yoohyeon slept and the ceiling of Handong’s mansion became as tall as her regrets, about how much time she spent observing her to mimic her human ways, how, despite already being experienced, she never quite stopped looking up to Yoohyeon as a role model of what a human being was — how a human being was supposed to be.

Yoohyeon didn’t know about how many nights she had spent just like that — back against the borders of the mattress, mind far away and heart crying on her sleeves. Yoohyeon still didn’t know how often Minji searched for solace in the peacefulness of her sleep in her hardest moments, trying to find her answers in the sublimeness of her existence. And when she looked back, being greeted by restless eyes and the same edge that paralyzed her every time, Minji had never felt this wrong about herself and everything around her .

“Every night, even when I was awake.” Her eyelids fluttered shut for a moment. “Funny, right? For me, not so much.”

Yoohyeon’s voice was hoarse due to all the singing and screaming at Bora antics on the previous night, the discomfort evident in the way her features contorted, but it was warm nonetheless, fragile in its way out of her throat until it hit Minji’s ear, and although Minji was used to all the tenderness that permeated them in their nature, she couldn’t help but press her lips in a straight line and lower her head.

“I wondered about your well-being, I prayed for the girls to be exaggerating.” She continued, coming closer to the edge of the bed in protest for their lack of contact. “I took pictures and I wrote pages upon pages of all the things I wished I wasn’t alone while living, even though I have no regrets over them.” Her hand stretched out of the white sheets, wanting to reach out — hesitating in doing so. “And as much as it was irrational, I couldn’t stop myself from being terrified at the idea of never seeing you again.” Her voice trembled, her body curled on itself. “Either because you’d never come after me,” it was bitter, oh, so bitter, how she said it. “Or because even if I came back it would be impossible to reach you.”

At that, Minji, who was usually so responsive, had not reacted.

She thought to herself — asked herself — at which point she had convinced Yoohyeon, or anyone for that matter, that she was as hollow and as frozen as the sculptures in the hallway, and although it would take her a while to find ways to change that, even now the idea haunted her.

She wondered if she hadn’t loved Yoohyeon enough for her to see that it was the opposite — that if there was anyone terrified there, it was her, since the very day Yoohyeon made clear that her presence would no longer be a constant. She revisited her memories, tried to make sense of what Yoohyeon was saying without underestimating her feelings or disregarding them as mere judgments that held no truth to them in their stance, but it was disturbing to hear so much raw honesty in words that made Minji’s entire body sting, and it was that possibility, the one of Yoohyeon finding in those explanations the closure she needed because it was easier to absorb them than to deal with whatever it was that kept Minji away, that made the vampire turn to her.

Her index finger went up, reaching out to draw the lines of Yoohyeon’s cheeks while the silence stretched into a bubble around them once more, and although this tension, this specific tension that started in I know and finished in but it’s still doesn’t hurt less, was an acquaintance of theirs, it did not make the land of her next words any less heavy.

“Who do you take me for, Yoohyeonie?” Her eyes sparkled, Minji could tell by the way Yoohyeon spent way too long fixated on the different ink coloring them, and if she was talking to anyone else it would have sounded offended, maybe angry, but it just sound upset, slightly pained, when it was that woman on the other end the one to receive it. “Is my negligence bigger, more valuable than my affection?”

But can you blame me?

Minji guessed she couldn’t. Minji guessed that, perhaps, this limbo of pressure they were in was a lot more her fault than Yoohyeon’s different time zone or their usual broken way of facing distance and the gnawing madness of absence. And Yoohyeon could deny it; would deny it if it depended on her. Yoohyeon, sweet Yoohyeon, would bring forward the times in which she was the one not to call, the few occasions that she met Minji’s attempts at reaching out with a dusty silence, and even if it hurt, she would rather admit her own pettiness than let Minji cave in inside her own guilt.

But they had gone through this before.

They were too old to keep chasing their tails and blame it on the sunlight.

And Minji couldn’t speak for anyone but herself, but she was a little too exhausted of deflexions and detours when all she really wanted was to be walking at the same rhythm Yoohyeon was, side by side like they were destined to be.

“My apologies.”

Yoohyeon took hold of her hand, shooting daggers and swords at her and wanting them to pierce through.

“Stop being so formal with me.” And Minji wouldn’t disobey. “Save that tone and your pretty words for when we’re out there. Right here you’re just—”

“Minji.” Your Minji, the vampire nodded to the disruption of ease inside Yoohyeon’s mind, letting out a soft chuckle. “And you’re just Yoohyeon. I get it.” She caressed the palm holding her fingers still, relished the acknowledgment that it was fine, that they could fix this — that five years did nothing if just elevate what was already refulgent. “I’m sorry, still.”

Yoohyeon opened her mouth to protest.

Minji stopped her with a caring smile; another caress on her hand.

“You commanded me to be well while you were gone.” Minji bit her lip subtly, tried not to appear as defeated as she felt. “I promised you I’d do and be my best so you wouldn’t worry.” She sighed, out of habit. “But I… Didn’t succeed at any of those. So for that, I am sorry.” She tilted her head a bit, struck by the overwhelming relief of having Yoohyeon there, in flesh and bone, not as a hallucination of her perturbed self. “I should’ve been there for you, whichever way available for me. But I got caught up.”

“With work?”

Yoohyeon wasn’t judgmental in the way she was listening to her — she just listened. Took in whatever it was that she was seeing. Frowning every now and refusing to let go as if now she was actively afraid of what could happen if she didn’t hold on to Minji’s hand. But never judged, never pointed fingers even if she had the right to, and the older vampire was thankful.

“No,” Minji denied, leaning just slightly to press a delicate kiss to the back of Yoohyeon’s hand. “In my head.” She did not elaborate. She did not justify herself. But there was recognition in Yoohyeon’s eyes and that was enough. “I’ll be better, Yoohyeonie. I’ll make up to you no matter how long I have to spend trying to. You deserve more than this.”

The vampire watched as Yoohyeon’s lips parted, the shadow of something devastating striking her beautiful features for a second before it returned in painful comprehension, understanding of nuances bigger than Minji expressed.

“You know things aren’t set in stone, right?”

“I do.”

“Then, please, don’t act like you’ve committed a crime.” She went closer, cupping Minji’s cheek as if she was catching a butterfly and trying not to cry about it. “I want you here, I want you near. Open the gates for me.” The last part came in a light trembling whisper; expectant, but above all, adoring. “That’s what I’ve been asking this entire time.”

Minji swallowed hard, nodding slowly even though the conflict turning her into a frozen figure made her think and rethink if she could truly open the gates as she was being asked — if she was worthy of receiving another chance after so many disappointments and deceptions. Still, she rose up to her knees. Muffled the doubtful voices in her ears and pressed a kiss to Yoohyeon’s forehead before sharing a smile with her, only then letting herself melt at the familiar image of Yoohyeon and her morning, yet charming, hair as she jumped back in bed to become tangled with Yoohyeon once again, to give in to what was truly important amidst the noise, and waste their remaining hours away in something other than mourning the early separation that was certain to come.

Letting go of her old ways didn’t come out of nowhere.

Siyeon might have helped, Bora might have pushed her out of the precipice, and perhaps leaving had been something the others had expected her to do sooner or later. But the real instigator, the actual reason, resided there, in that too big of a table they shared in forced courtesy — every little moment from that night on that reminded Minji of who she was, what was the point of being there to begin with. And although every move was calculated, even though her impulsiveness had less to do with actually being impulsive and a lot more with being sure of what she was going to do regardless of the consequences, she did feel like she was walking on shards of glass with bare feet with every new thing she did, every new accomplishment she achieved.

Because opening the gates meant letting go of her reservations.

It meant looking at herself in the mirror and loving what she saw on the same level she hated it.

It had to do with her not turning her back on danger, with her feeling the knife pushing against her and allowing it to keep going until it drew out what it wanted, and as much as she had been brave before, no one taught her how to be a stable force when everything she ever cared about seemed to be on thin ice and the smallest wrong step she took would break it and swallow it until it lasted only the ghost of what it once was.

It was during her musings, then, after the world hadn’t crashed and burned and her presence in Yoohyeon’s apartment became almost as common as Yoohyeon own, that she realized where this irrational dread came from: she wasn’t ready to jeopardize their hard-earned stability for something as vague as romance.

It was about friendship and it was about the fundamental fear of damaging something one cherishes, but it was so, so much more too, in the sense that what they had went beyond camaraderie or simple dedication, and that to hurt something as pure, as holy, as what they hadn’t built alone, could lead to the very end they had tried to escape from all those decades decades ago, all those mistakes ago.

And Minji saw, sensed in the shakiness of Yoohyeon’s smile at times, that the dilemma she was trying to riddle out into something less blurry wasn’t exclusive to her curse or something she was playing with alone.

Yoohyeon, too, shied away when they got too close.

Yoohyeon, too, had slammed doors and refused to speak when all they really needed to fix their issues was just that — to speak to each other.

And though this wasn’t a dispute, Minji refused to push through when Yoohyeon was the one to step back, and for every second of hesitance one had, the other had ten more of guilt and heaviness to calm down and soothe with patience.

It was just that they had learned how to balance themselves atop this thin line without bringing the other down as they swung, and while the problem remained unsolved, they were less rigid.

More open.

Uncomfortable still, but reassured that the other wasn’t going anywhere.

That they could protect this beautiful garden of theirs even though Hades was always mad and Persephone couldn’t wait to go home.

However, to disguise and to follow a new script was one thing.

To succeed in holding up façades and deny the undeniable was another.

And they could act their roles like they usually did. Minji could engage with whatever rules the human society forced her to engage and Yoohyeon could follow Minji’s steps like they were the same person in different bodies. But a debt was a debt even if it was owed to a friend, and once the people left and the emptiness of the room was the only thing staring right back at them, there was nothing that could be done to help them.

Nothing that could be done to help either of them.

“How much more should I complain until you start listening to me?”

Minji’s hands went by reflex to the thighs that circled her waist from behind, Yoohyeon’s body crushing hers in a piggyback with not a single ounce of concern towards the size of the kitchen they were in.

“You can keep complaining and I’ll keep ignoring,” Minji hummed, adjusting Yoohyeon to her with no effort before returning to her task. “You’ve always said you missed having someone cooking for you so shush. This is no big deal.”

“But you can’t eat!”

“I can still keep you company when you have to feed properly.”

“But Minji!” She groaned, arms tightening their hold around her neck in opposition. “That’s not how it’s supposed to be!”

Usually, Minji would entertain Yoohyeon’s ideas about what she should or should not be doing in this little vacation-not-vacation of hers: she knew it came from a place of care, could tell from a mile away that Yoohyeon wanted nothing but the best for her, and it wasn’t rare for her to understand Minji’s limits better than Minji herself. But this discourse was one she was not in the mood to listen to — not when it was actually one of the best parts of being a recurrent guest in her friend’s home, which, surprise surprise, happened as fast as Yubin thought it would — and that was how she realized she wasn’t the only one that could use some reassurance every once in a while.

“You just came home from work,” she said after quickly dropping her knife and washing her hands to place Yoohyeon on top of the countertop next to them, not letting go of their hold. And though Yoohyeon was used to inhuman speed, she wasn’t immune to being caught off guard every once in a while. “And I enjoy making things for you much like you enjoy doing things for me, tough day or not.” She caressed Yoohyeon’s waist, nuzzled Yoohyeon’s nose to slow her breathing down a bit to maybe be able to focus better on their surroundings instead of being stuck on the sound of Yoohyeon’s pulse in her ears, quickening and getting warmer by the minute. “Sit down, relax; tell me how you’ve been. I’m more than glad to be here for you.”

Easy.

It was easy between them — it had always been when it came to them, to what they had.

It could be hard for those who hadn’t been with them for that long to notice, no wonder Minji would get questions about their history more often than not as if it was still impossible to understand how they ended up so close, so alike, but all it took for the veils to fall and the sharpness to be dropped was for them to be left alone for a second more, to go off of the spotlight for a moment too long — for the attention to be pulled somewhere else so they could lower down their walls, inch a a step closer; find each other’s skin to grasp and hold in the subtlety of a dimly lit room.

That was when they were at their most raw, the furthest they could get from the chains that pulled them apart: that was who they were when free to spin and to relax inside each other’s affection.

And that, too, was when the danger of faltering spread around them like a poison ivy’s wave silently taking their house of stone hostage for later demolition.

“Yoohyeon says she’s been feeling pretty good lately.”

Minji hummed to Siyeon’s comment, loosening the knot of her tie as they left the enormous building that stood tall and proud in the middle of the corporate rush and loud vehicles.

“Said that she’s been fairly content lately and that she doesn’t feel as alone,” Siyeon kept going, the smile that spread on her lips making Minji want to curl in on herself and disappear. “Gahyeonnie seemed very satisfied with it.”

“Say what you want to say, Siyeon.”

Minji grumbled, trying not to scowl at the soft chuckle that Siyeon let out, as if this was all a game she was more than happy to indulge in despite Minji’s suffering.

“What are you waiting for, Minji?” She asked as calmly as ever. Not an accusation, no fingers pointed, but still the million-dollar question Minji shied away from answering every f*cking time. “What else, really?” She ran a hand through her hair, checked her phone once to confirm that Gahyeon was about to arrive to pick them up. “How much longer can you take this without crumbling?”

The black, luxurious car came in their vision field almost on cue, Siyeon’s undeniable joy at it quite the sight to experience.

“She looks at you like you own her,” she gave Minji a side glance, hand on the handle the second the car stopped in front of them. “What else do you want?” And before Minji could muster the courage to answer, they were both settled inside the car and Siyeon was leaning over to peck Gahyeon’s lips, sending her a defiant wink that had Minji scoffing in her seat.

It wasn’t a matter of wanting: Minji was sick of stumbling into the walls of her mind and adding item after item of the things she wanted, the things that made her twitch under that powerful string of fire, to an endless list on the ground she stood, the ceiling hanging above her; the windows that made her perceptible, seen by others, more than just a painting.

It was a matter of need.

Of needing it so much that she was scared of the monster that could come out of it, take her place and sharpen its claws while she remained silenced, taken away from control.

And whenever those muffled, ill-intended voices whispered in ears — trying to get the worst of her, decided to lead her astray —, Minji forced herself around her chains, had to make it hurt so she wouldn’t forget who she was, who she devoted herself to being after being so many wrong versions of the person she was created to be, and the price of that was staying still.

Tied up in silver threads.

Roped up in a corner, letting the curse of her love draw symbols in her skin with scorching heat.

Or else she couldn’t promise where and how she would end up like, what shape she would take when allowed unrestrained space for destruction. And that, Minji was sure, wasn’t a sacrifice she was willing to make.

Not when that could risk losing herself and Yoohyeon altogether.

“Do you ever regret?”

Minji frowned at the question, turned her head a bit to find Yoohyeon’s eyes already searching for hers, the upside-down position they were in on Yoohyeon’s couch almost making their foreheads touch.

She had that look again, Minji noticed — the one of someone who was too far inside her own head to be taken out of it unharmed.

“Doing everything you did, I mean.” She continued, voice low and vulnerable, a warm hand coming to play softly with Minji’s hair. “There, in your mansion, you manage to keep some semblance of what you had before, the world you lived in for so long. Here in the city, though?” She shook her head a bit. “It’s not possible. I guess that’s why we stopped pushing: moving on and moving out doesn’t have to be something everyone’s forced to do, it can be a choice. Staying can be one, too.” A short, restrained smile appeared on her lips and Minji’s frown deepened. “But, I don’t know. Seeing you here, driving your car, paying more attention to what you wear so as not to stand out in a bad way, finding new ways to communicate with others because humans are quite hard to understand is… Something.”

Minji chuckled lightly, the wonder dripping from Yoohyeon as she spoke intoxicating on its own.

“I’m used to it by now, I’ve made a life and money out of this ability to blend and comprehend them, but I’m not the one making a return here.” She pointed out, sounded like she couldn’t decide whether to take this as a scold for herself or a reminder. “You’re the oldest of us.” Yoohyeon swallowed hard, fingers going deeper on Minji’s hair but gentle, always gentle, in every move she made. “You’ve seen so much more than all of us and you know so much better than any of us can and yet…” She got lost again, far away from the ground, and Minji was starting to figure out where all of this came from. “It feels like you’ve always been there. Like you’re the unshakable figure we heard in our old stories and no burden can phase you or break you enough to defeat you.” She curled a little more around Minji, ran a finger over Minji’s hairline. She sounded like someone else. “It’s a strength I don’t have. One I have no idea if one day I’ll manage to have.”

At that, Minji’s features softened, the beating of Yoohyeon’s heart a calming lullaby she couldn’t get enough of.

“You know better than anyone that this isn’t true,” she pointed out kindly, knowing the disappointment this idealization caused. “I’m resilient. I’m not unreachable.”

“Might have to argue with you on that, though.”

They chuckled at Yoohyeon’s almost offended tone, the underlying message of that sentence not getting lost on Minji’s attentiveness as well.

Then, a pause.

“You’ve been thinking about death again, haven’t you?”

Yoohyeon actually laughed at the knowing voice Minji had, their endless discussions about the topic never failing to start and finish the very same way every damn time, and for that Minji was thankful — she wasn’t ready for the day Yoohyen would lose her inner peace because of such a tragic yet unexpected certainty they had no control over.

“Am I this obvious?”

“Baby.” She rolled her eyes, offered Yoohyeon a teasing grin. “You can’t invade people’s minds like I can but you don’t have to be a genius to realize this sort of thing.” Minji booped Yoohyeon’s nose with her own, made sure to get more laughs out of her before speaking again — she liked her that away, happy and free, unburdened by the inevitability of it all and surrounded by warmth even if all Minji could offer was a tiny flame in the form of her very old, very tired heart. “And you rarely touch on this topic if you’re not already walking in circles with it for a while beforehand, so yeah, quite obvious.”

Minji let her come down slowly, watched with slow breaths how her cheeks gained color, how her shoulders relaxed, and as she remained suspended on air admiring the single person capable of making her doubt her own courage, all Minji could feel was fullness.

Passion.

Unrestrained reverence in a way no other faith had taught her how to feel.

And she collapsed. Was rebuilt once more. Recalled that gravity was a thing, one of the few laws she still obeyed, and hoped that her orbit wouldn’t be pulled sideways by it when she felt like she could not belong to any other star that wasn’t Yoohyeon and Yoohyeon alone.

“I’ve watched all my friends die.” Minji confessed, at last, with a type of normalcy she feared Yoohyeon would never get used to. “Each and every single one of them died right before my eyes at some point. Some are still running with us, some I visit from time to time with a rose when I can. Some didn’t even have the luxury of a grave, so to them I dedicate my every effort in making this place a better one to be alive in.” She twirled a strand of black hair around her index; a mere distraction. “It’s a pain that never fades, a period of grief that never truly finishes: you just learn to live with it, to shut up and go on.” She shrugged, thought of all the hurtful memories they shared. “It’s not that I’m unshakable, I’m just too numb to fight.”

Minji flexed her fingers a bit, tried to ease out the tension hardening her shoulders.

“My strength isn’t mine. It’s you. It’s the girls. It’s the promises I made,” she said firmly, not for the first time. “The only thing is that I was forced into it. You didn’t, not fully. And I’m glad.” But I understand, my love. I understand. “I see how you look at them, the people you adore. That’s why you’re worried, isn’t it?”

Yoohyeon nodded, not trying to deny Minji’s correct reading of her or where her insecurities stemmed from; looking so much smaller than she actually was that Minji wished she could take all her worries and settle them down one by one with her own hands.

“There’s going to come the day I’ll have to leave this city behind again,” the woman mumbled, seriousness blending with a type of melancholy Minji knew well. “Even if I tell them, even if they know about who we are, it’s not up for discussion. And maybe I’m a little tired of burying those I care about without being allowed to mourn like everyone else, watching nature work its way without me having a say on anything because I’m no longer part of it, no longer protected by it. But then…” She looked up again, tried to grasp something in Minji’s attention that Minji couldn’t figure out what it was. “Then I remember that I’m still on a countdown like them. It may take a long, long while, but one day I’ll have to go too. I’ll be the one leaving people behind as well. There’s going to be a grave with my name on it and I won’t be the one crying.”

Minji didn’t move.

She wouldn’t speak, she never did — not about that.

“It’s a full circle.”

“Yeah, a full circle,” Yoohyeon sighed. “And I hate it just the same.” One of her hands finally went to Minji’s face, thumb caressing Minji’s cheek with so much kindness that Minji believed for a brief second that she was about to melt into droplets of gold right there and then. “Is it bad if I don’t know if I’m doing enough? If I’m letting people go without knowing about my honesty? There’s not much of a history for me to leave in this theater if I have to protect my identity, hide that other side of me for the sake of safety.” It was Yoohyeon’s turn to frown, to look for some grounding in Minji’s patience. “Am I going insane?”

Minji shook her head, leaned a little to press a kiss on Yoohyeon’s forehead; tried to clear the mess inside that beautiful mind for Yoohyeon to see more clearly, envision the path ahead with more serenity in her, less anxiety over matters that could be postponed.

“You’re being human, Yooh.” One of her hands went to Yoohyeon’s nape for a calming massage, their foreheads properly pressing together now. “And though I don’t have much experience with it nor do I interact with loss the same way you do, a legacy, your legacy, isn’t just the material weight you put in the world.” Minji closed her eyes, counted the beats pulsating in her ears — tried to engrave it in her brain and mind in such a way that it could be seen by other people if she didn't cover it up well enough. “They carry you with them everywhere they go. In the pictures you take, in the habits they pick up from you. In the things you have no idea it exists because it’s personal, it’s theirs, and sometimes honesty can fail despite its best intentions.” She mumbled, prayed that Yoohyeon wouldn’t forget it. “To be cherished is a gift like no other and if there’s one thing I can assure you, it’s that you are. Fully and thoroughly. Like it should be.”

There was an I love you at the tip of Yoohyeon’s tongue, Minji could sense it from where she laid.

But it didn’t have to be said, Minji knew, and as the conversation diluted into easier, less tear-inducing topics, Minji hoped that Yoohyeon could tell, too, that her language revolved around the many ways she could tell Yoohyeon that she loved, the many ways she could translate her love into actual, comprehensive words, and that to be there, laying down with her while the sky outside grew darker and the lights got colder, was a greater gift than all the familiarity, all the comfort being back in her mansion could be.

That was what Minji wasn’t willing to risk — that connection, that ease that had their names sewn on it.

So she retracted her hands when it was time to, kept an eye open not to hug too tight — not to ask for too much.

And when Yoohyeon fell soundly asleep on her chest, unaware of the raging battle disguised by the gripping of Minji’s fists under the sheets, all she could do was promise that she would hold on for another day.

And another.

Until they all blend together.

Until it didn’t make her taste bitterness in her tongue the same way she had been doing for lord knows how long.

to become a body - lostway7 (2024)

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