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Maybe it’s the way Ji-wan looks at her when Sol speaks the words. “My feelings will never change.”
Maybe it’s the way Ji-wan’s breath hitches when Sol wraps her in a hug, even if Ji-wan doesn’t return the contact. Or how her shoulders finally relax when Sol reassures her. “So don’t worry.”
Or maybe it’s just the whole impossible confluence of events that led the two of them to this moment — here, on this swing set where they first became friends — so Sol can’t help the dumb smile on her face. She breathes in the scent of Ji-wan’s hair, pulls back to look at her and the glint of almost tears in her eyes. And even though Sol has never wanted to kiss anyone more than in that moment, she leans in to deliver another hug.
Ji-wan reciprocates this time.
When Sol feels the arms clasp around her back, she settles her chin against Ji-wan’s shoulder, runs a hand down Ji-wan’s hair. They’ve hugged each other so many times before, but this is different. This time, Sol isn’t stiff and unyielding. Sol is soft, and just as caring as Ji-wan. Sol allows herself to enjoy the feel of Ji-wan close, lets herself notice how perfectly they fit together, like congruent elements of the same sculpture.
They stay like that, rocking slightly because of the swing, and whether it’s a minute or ten, neither can tell. When they do break apart, Ji-wan rubs away real tears, and Sol has her own which threaten to spill.
"Let me walk you home," she says, because it feels like forever since they've done that. And it's simple, stupid really, but Sol misses it so much — those quiet moments with Ji-wan when it seems like it's only the two of them, alone with the night.
She stands, proffers her elbow as usual, because that's always how they walk. But Ji-wan takes her hand instead, laces their fingers together, and pulls herself off the swing. Sol gives her a questioning glance, but it’s met only with a smile and a giggle. Sol feels like her heart is melting.
And she knows she's overthinking this, but she's been overthinking as long as she's known Ji-wan. She feels excited and electric, light, as though the breeze could lift her away. Because everything she never dared let herself dream feels like it's coming true, and she can't remember the number of times she thought about coming to this exact spot — this place where she fell in love with Ji-wan — and laying out her feelings in perfect stark words so there could be no mistaking them. But she's always been a coward. Ji-wan is the strong one, the brave one.
So they walk, and Ji-wan hangs off her elbow as usual, but this time their hands stay linked as well, and Sol is keenly aware of Ji-wan's fingers. Ji-wan's hands are so much softer than hers. Sol wonders if it's the long hours working in the studio, or just because Ji-wan takes better care of hers.
When they stop at a traffic light, Ji-wan leans against her and Sol looks down at their intertwined fingers with a smile.
“What are you thinking?”
“What are you thinking?”
And they laugh, because they are so in sync. This path is the same one they walk all the time, but tonight feels different, portentous. They are each buzzing with their own unvoiced thoughts.
“You first.”
“You first.”
More laughs.
The light changes then, and they cross the street, but Sol speaks up before they reach the other side. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, Seo Ji-wan.” And she’s supposed to have other words, all the lines she’s played out in her head over the years, the ones she thought she’d never be able to say out loud, but right now her mind is blank. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize for liking me.”
And that’s not why Sol is apologizing, but it makes her stomach flutter nevertheless. They’re outside Ji-wan’s building then, so Sol doesn’t get to find out what Ji-wan is thinking. And suddenly she has one more reason to be worried, because she realizes she doesn’t know how to say goodbye. She doesn’t think a smile and a wave is enough anymore. Maybe it was never enough, but it was safe. Because no matter what she told Ji-wan earlier about things going back to the way they were before, Sol knows it’s not true. After tonight, there’s no going back for them.
Ji-wan stops at the foot of the steps to her building, turns towards Sol and takes her other hand as well, so she is holding both in front of her. “Yun Sol.” She says, her voice impossibly small.
“Goodnight,” Sol replies right away, full of confidence she doesn’t have, and she looks down to Ji-wan’s mouth.
As if she notices, Ji-wan’s tongue darts out to lick her lips. But it’s Ji-wan who moves first, steps closer and brushes their lips together for just an instant. It’s the briefest of pecks, a single touch, before Ji-wan is turning to run up the stairs. Sol doesn’t even have time to be shocked or close her eyes. She covers her mouth with a hand, shivers despite the flush from her face.
Ji-wan is at the door when she turns back to look. Sol hasn’t moved.
The question is simple, but loaded, the same that Ji-wan has asked a hundred times before. “Do you want to stay?”
And Sol runs after her.
Inside Ji-wan's apartment, everything is both exactly the same but completely different all at the same time. It's not like Sol hasn't spent the night more times than she can remember. She knows where to drop her bag. She has a toothbrush next to Ji-wan's, and a set of pyjamas tucked away in a drawer. But now there are no secrets, and not everything is as innocent as it seems.
Still Sol goes through the motions like nothing’s changed. They do their bedtime routine, brush their teeth side by side, and when they’re done Ji-wan smiles into the mirror, inspecting both sides of her face.
“You’re pretty enough,” Sol says out of habit, but this time Ji-wan doesn’t argue. Instead Ji-wan beams at her, pushes her playfully, and runs to the bedroom.
Sol finds a conspicuous pile hidden under the blankets. She looks at the bed that's supposed to be big enough for both of them, and yet somehow Ji-wan always ends up curled up against her in the morning. It was one of the reasons Sol always stayed when asked. But it doesn't feel right to indulge that tonight.
Without a word, she reaches for a pillow, grabs it off the bed before a question stops her. "You don't want to stay with me?" Ji-wan has emerged from her hiding place, sat up, and the hurt in her voice kills Sol.
“Ji-wan, I…” Sol trails off, looks from the bed to the door, unsure.
“I trust you.”
And Sol cries, because that’s the most beautiful thing that Seo Ji-wan has ever said to her. So she doesn’t resist when Ji-wan pulls her into bed, tucks the blankets around them, and shuts off the lights.
They are face to face in the dark, closer than they ever start out sleeping, but still not touching. They are at the edge of their respective pillows though, and in the space between them, they each have a hand waiting, straining to reach without really moving. Once more, Sol doesn’t know who gives in first, but their little fingers brush, and then hook together, and before Sol knows it, they are holding hands under the sheets.
Ji-wan’s other hand lands on Sol’s waist, pulls her even closer so their noses are touching. Sol can see the reflection of moonlight in Ji-wan’s tears, and she’s less embarrassed about her own.
“Sol?”
“Mmm?”
“Is this all right?”
“Always.”
There's a pause then, and in the ensuing silence, both of their breaths sound too loud. Sol squeezes Ji-wan’s hand, feels the grip on her waist tighten in response.
Ji-wan’s next question is unexpected. “Will you kiss me?”
So Sol does, slow and gentle, like she’s always dreamed. This kiss is languid, meandering, not at all like the one before. This kiss is like coming home after years on the road, looking at the tree stump in the yard, and finally seeing the oeuvre held within if only you could bring it out. Ji-wan is soft and warm and just the right amount of urgent. She is lips and tongue and hands and legs tangled together. She is the taste of toothpaste and the scent of possibility. She is everything that Sol has ever wanted and Sol is tingling with the realization.
Because it’s true what she said, about her feelings never changing. She will never not love Ji-wan. And even if she was able to pretend otherwise before, she doesn’t see how she can now. She can’t not want to touch Ji-wan, not have the urge to kiss her, not want to keep her safe.
When they pause for breath, Ji-wan buries her face in Sol’s neck, peppers it with kisses.
Sol strokes her hair, whispers words in the dark that she has said before, when they were younger, before they had the same meaning. “I promise I’ll never leave you.”
“Don’t promise, Sol. Just love me.”
“I always have.”
Ji-wan shudders, lets out a long breath, and burrows further into Sol until they both swear they can feel the other’s heart beating against their ribcages. And though neither wants to sleep, there has been too much nervous energy today, too much stress, too many tears, too many questions, and confessions, and undoings.
So they drift off together, holding each other, just like usual. There will be time tomorrow to talk, to take that next step and figure things out. Because if Sol is honest with herself, she loves Ji-wan just as much as she did yesterday, or the week before, or all the years before that. And nothing she feels about Ji-wan has changed.