Say that you love me.

I’ve started doing things just to get her to say those words. It might not be something she needs, or something she needs me to do for her, but sometimes if I do something it makes her say that she needs me.

Sometimes I do the dishes before she finishes work because I get home earlier than her, and she gives me three quick kisses and whispers, “Thanks, love.”

Sometimes I pick up dinner on the way home because I know she’s having a rough week and she says, “I love it when you know exactly what I’m thinking.”

She says a lot of things. She has different ways of saying it, too. She says she loves my hair, my eyes, my dimple when I smile; she loves my sensible nature, my goofy laugh, the way I act responsible when she doesn’t want to. She finds it endearing when I act child-like and charming when I’m gallant.

She loves me, is what I tell myself.

I would do what I could to make sure she never leaves me. She doesn’t need to leave me. She can pretend that she loves me if she says she needs me.

At night when she’s asleep I lie awake and I wonder. What could I have done differently to make sure she didn’t leave me? I could cry and I could beg but what would that do? I can’t care about anything but her.

I can’t care about anything but her – I tried it before, when I realised how far deep I was getting. But all I love is her. Even if she’s still here, she’s already left, and all I can care about is her.

Sometimes she holds me long and tight in the early morning hours, by the haze of the dawn when it’s cold, and she just holds me and that’s all. She loves me, she can’t live without me.

Sometimes she turns over in her sleep and it’s like her body is seeking me out, pushing towards me, pulled as if holding the force of a magnet. She needs me, she can’t bear to be without me.

Then sometimes she gets distracted, she looks away and stares into the distance and doesn’t say anything at all for a long time, her mind is elsewhere, and her heart is just as far, and I tell myself that she loves me, and she needs me, and she’ll never leave me.

She doesn’t love me, I know, and there’s nothing I can do; understanding provides no answer. She can stay, she can pretend that she loves me.

She can fool me. I can’t care about anything but her.



One Night of Seoul

“Do you come here often?”

Taeyeon turns, honestly surprised by the question, and sees a woman smiling at her. “Pardon me?”

The woman wiggles her eyebrows and winks. “I’m trying to hit on you with a classic one-liner. Is it working?”

Taeyeon appraises the woman; supple, beautiful, playful – immaculately styled, not like someone who is exceedingly rich but like someone who has an eye for fashion and a genuine interest. Her eyes curve when she smiles, and her smile comes easy. She seems to be in her element here, leaning against the bar using a pick-up line on a single woman. But it isn’t anything to do with arrogance, Taeyeon senses. It’s a woman who is comfortable being herself.

“Well, I’m not likely to run away screaming any time soon,” she responds, playing it safe.

The woman nods. “Okay, I can work with that.” She shifts slightly, angling more towards Taeyeon. “So, do you?”

Taeyeon tilts her head questioningly.

“Come here often,” the woman elaborates.

Taeyeon sips her drink, a delicate raspberry vodka soda mix. “I wouldn’t say that.”

The woman regards her for a moment, not taking a sip of her own drink –  some sort of martini – and says, “My name is Tiffany. What’s yours?”

“Taeyeon,” she answers, and she peeks up at Tiffany with a shy gaze. “How about you? Do you come here often?”

This garners another warm smile from Tiffany who seems pleased that Taeyeon is willing to play the game. “No, actually, I don’t live in Seoul. I’m visiting from LA and this is my last night here. I thought I’d come check out the local nightlife.”

Taeyeon checks her watch, eyeing the dead-on six o’clock she can see there, and points the same look to Tiffany. She receives a bashful shrug in return.

It’s kind of early for Seoul and she imagines the same would be true for this scenario in Los Angeles.

This is the happy hour crowd approaching the moment of indecision between dwindling home or bending it into a night out. Taeyeon herself is still undecided, on her second drink and questioning a third. Now that Tiffany’s here, all her ruminations are out the window and she finds herself ready to drift whichever way comes around.

“Business or pleasure?” Taeyeon asks. “Your visit.”

This makes Tiffany sigh. She finally drinks her martini, taking a good long sip, and when she sets it back on the bar the olive takes a spin around the glass.

“You know what, Taeyeon? I want to pretend for one night that my life is something else.”

Taeyeon tilts her head questioningly again, bemused.

“Tonight, none of that matters – business, visiting, whatever. I’m going to be whoever I want to be.”

She looks at Taeyeon – directly at her, into her, and her eyes seem darker.

“Do you want to play?”

Taeyeon’s fingers involuntarily tighten against the smooth surface of glass. A droplet of condensation slips onto her skin. She looks anywhere but at Tiffany.

The silence stretches between them, buffeted around by the sound of others in the bar laughing and talking.

“I’m sorry,” Tiffany says eventually, sounding genuine and looking concerned, “did I take it too far? I bet you think I’m just weird now.”

“No,” Taeyeon is quick to say, she finds, “it’s just that I do actually want to, I don’t know, pretend I’m someone else for a while. I think that’s why I’m here tonight. I never come here.”

Tiffany’s smile this time is comforting, a small curve of her lips, and she rests the very tips of her fingers on Taeyeon’s forearms lightly. “I guess we have something in common, then.”

Taeyeon eyes those fingers on her skin with an undecipherable feeling in her chest.

Yes, most likely they are here for the same reason, after all.

“So, since we’re picking our own lives,” Tiffany continues, “let’s see, what do I want my career to be?”

She removes her hand to wave at the bartender and gesture at her glass.

“I think I’m a superstar,” Tiffany ponders. “Just some kind of mega-celebrity. Amazingly talented – I can sing, dance, act, model – I’d get into fashion that way, maybe do an editorial for one of the big magazines, maybe get into designing my own line, probably a winter collection. And I style my best friends just because I adore them.”

Her drink arrives, and she accepts it graciously. Then she turns that dark gaze to Taeyeon again.

“And you?”

Taeyeon takes a deep breath, unaware that she needs it. “Well, since you mentioned celebrity… I like listening to the radio. I’d – I do something in that, you know, have my own show or something.” She smiles and shakes her head at her glass. “I think it’s something I’ve heard from my friends before. They say my jokes are lame, and best if they’re not in a conversation where someone’s supposed to respond. Having a radio show would be almost like a captive audience, you know? But then on the other hand, I’m a singer too, and it’s my true passion. I get shy whenever I play my own songs on the show.”

When she looks back up at Tiffany she’s struck by the urge to wink but she stops herself – at least she’s pretty sure she does. She edges the glass away from herself and busies her hands with the napkin next to it. She starts tearing it to shreds and wonders if she might be nervous.

Tiffany’s hand covers her own and she realises that she is nervous.

“So, you’re an incredibly talented singer and radio DJ with cheesy jokes which you use to hide your other skills, and I’m a multi-faceted superstar edging into the world of fashion,” Tiffany says, sounding amused but not mocking. “We meet at a bar in Seoul and I hit on you with my lame pick-up line. Is that how we meet?”

Taeyeon meets her gaze. “Maybe not. Maybe I hit on you with my lame pick up line.”

Tiffany looks intrigued. “And what would that be?”

Taeyeon turns away, smiling to herself, and gulps down the rest of her drink. She clears her throat, tugs at the collar of her dress, adjusts her necklace – then she turns back to Tiffany, as charming and disarming as she can be.

“Are you a triangle?”

Tiffany’s brow furrows. “What?”

“’Cos you’re acute one.” This time, Taeyeon winks.

Tiffany closes her eyes. Her grin is wide, showing the attractive shape of her mouth and the lines of her face, then she emits a groan of such delicious timbre even though it’s all because of Taeyeon’s lame pick-up line.

“You got me,” she confesses, opening her eyes again. “You really, really got me. I mean, you got me. That would totally work on me – it does totally work on me.” She laughs for the first time and every other laugh in the building is snuffed out. “You got me.”

Taeyeon mirrors her grin without any thought at all. “I got you,” she echoes.

And then she’s being kissed. Tiffany swoops forward, cups the back of her head, and kisses here right then and there. It’s not long; a brief introduction of lips but the kind of greeting that is given at the start of something new, whatever it may be.

Tiffany moves her hand, runs it down Taeyeon’s neck and then brings it back to wrap around the stem of her martini glass.

“I’m here for one more night, Taeyeon,” she says, her voice low and so warm. “Show me your Seoul, in one night.”

And Taeyeon doesn’t even look for any way to resist.



The darkness


“This is the dream I have every night:

The darkness.”

 I. The Never-Ending Breathing

September 2

Sometimes I struggle to remember. I can get there eventually but it’s a journey, an adventure. Do you ever cry yourself to sleep? If you wake up in the middle of the night, terrified and shaking and staring at the darkness because it’s going to kill you, who do you call out for?

The invasion began in April. Was it the fourth or the fourteenth? I can’t remember.

It struck at night. Quiet and simple, slithering and standing around the corner. I flicked off the lamp on the bedside table and that’s when I felt it, the presence just beyond the open doorway of my room. I knew it was there, and no matter how much I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t real, I didn’t sleep that night. Were those footsteps I heard? Was that the shifting of a body, a hushed and lengthy whisper? Was that the sound of breathing?

It haunted me for four days. Or was it five? Every night. I kept the light on. I didn’t close the door. I knew it was there and yet I also knew it couldn’t be. Statistically speaking, logically deducing, there was nothing there at all, and yet I could sense it as surely as I could feel that there was oxygen in the air. Because I breathed, it was breathing.


II. Safety

“What on earth are you reading?”

Tiffany almost dropped the book in shock at the sound of Taeyeon’s voice, and tried to gulp down her heart as it jumped up her throat.

“You look like a little goblin, crouched over that thing,” Taeyeon said, resting her hands on her hips as she gave Tiffany a playful smile. “Is it something you would prefer to keep a secret?”

The book made a sharp slapping sound as Tiffany closed it quickly. She laughed offhandedly. “No, no. Just getting into the atmosphere of it, I suppose. It’s pretty intense.”

A loud, high-pitched beeping sounded over the speakers and they instinctively looked up. A routine weather update was robotically verbalized, and they relaxed again. Taeyeon glanced around the dusty, metal-walled room filled with bookshelves and open boxes of folders. The large window between two shelves allowed orange sunlight to pool in through thick glass.

“I wonder what really happened to this place,” she commented absently. With the tip of her foot, she pushed at an empty box next to her. “There are some pretty extensive records. What’s that you have there?”

“A diary,” said Tiffany, looking down at it. It lay unassuming in its tattered, loose binding.

“Whose diary?” asked Taeyeon. She walked over to stand next to Tiffany and tried to read the cover. “Did it belong to one of the patients?”

The words on the front of the book were smudged and written by a hand so shaky it was illegible. There might have been an s, possibly a p, and either an H or two letters melded together.

Tiffany shrugged.

“I don’t know whose it is. But whoever it was, they had problems.”

The beeping came again, and they listened to the next announcement; an update of the time. Before it even finished, they drowned out the rest with the rustling of moving feet and papers. When the area was slightly tidier, they made their way to the door.

Just as Tiffany was about to leave, there was a loud thud and she spun around with her pulse racing.

The book she had been reading was now on the floor, fallen from its shelf. She took a breath to calm herself, glanced around just in case, and went to pick it up.

“Hey, where are you going? We don’t want to be late for dinner.”

Tiffany paused and called over her shoulder, “I’ll be right there! A book fell down.”

Taeyeon made a noise of acknowledgement and her steps sounded over the metal girder of the corridor outside, in time with Tiffany’s boots tapping over concrete as she went towards the book.

She picked up the book carefully, feeling like it should be treated with kindness after the hard life it led, and she rested it on the shelf again.

This time, it let her leave. She didn’t see the ripped sheet of paper that now hid beneath the shelf, and so she didn’t get to see the harshly etched plea.

Save me


III. Irregularities

Tiffany kept her eyes trained on Taeyeon as they ate. They were surrounded by the other students who were part of their group for this excursion, but Tiffany only ever cared about Taeyeon. She didn’t even realise what her sandwich tasted like until she was almost finished with it. The dull pounding sound of people walking over the thin metal floor and the noise of their chatter was nothing compared to Taeyeon’s laugh when Tiffany said something witty, and the others surely had nothing to offer that could be better than Taeyeon’s shy glances.

They had only gone on one date so far. Just one, and Tiffany was trying not to seem too eager but she really wanted Taeyeon to know how much she wanted another one. Dating Taeyeon was glorious; something she could already tell would be a pure indulgence of the sweetest kind. But they were young, and inexperienced, and shy. Tiffany didn’t want to scare Taeyeon with her eagerness and Taeyeon didn’t want to make some embarrassing mistake. Neither of them knew exactly why the other was interested in them but both were so happy that they were that they didn’t want to spend too much time questioning it.

Together on this excursion with other students, Tiffany really wanted to hold Taeyeon’s hand but she knew she couldn’t. Were they even at that stage yet? They’d held hands, but that was before the date, and holding hands now would be about dating more than friendship… right?


Was that a whisper? Tiffany frowned at herself, then erased the frown and replaced it with a smile, looking at Taeyeon who was laughing about some silly thing. She loved silly things. She thought silly things were great, and easy to laugh about. The easier the laughs were, the more she wished she could keep them.

Tiffany shook her head, though she wasn’t sure if it was in response to her own thoughts, or in reaction to Taeyeon’s joke. She kept the smile, in either case.

On the way back to the library, she deliberately brushed against Taeyeon. “How about we have dinner again tonight?”

In other words, let’s go on another date. Why not just say it? Is this what they call being ‘coy’?

But Taeyeon’s expression was far too serious for anything but an unhappy ending. “I don’t know, Tiffany.” She looked away, bit her bottom lip, and brushed against Tiffany as if in commiseration. “You know I’m not sure it’s a good idea for us to be doing that.”

“Doing what?” Tiffany asked, hovering between playing dumb and being sardonic. “We haven’t even really done anything.” Bitter, in the end, was what she went for.

Taeyeon nodded to acknowledge that as a fact. “Even so, I’m not sure it would be a good idea. We should probably just focus on our studies, and you know our families are –”

Tiffany rolled her eyes. “I know all about our families, thank you Taeyeon. Don’t bother, then. If you’re going to turn me down just be frank about it.”

Taeyeon actually stopped; there weren’t many students behind them but they were forced to manoeuvre around the two. She frowned, deeply.

“What’s up with you? You know I don’t mean it like that, Tiffany. Come on, you have to be reasonable –”

“Sure I do,” Tiffany said. She didn’t bother looking at Taeyeon anymore; she didn’t want to accept that she was even talking to Taeyeon – her Taeyeon – about this. “Come on, Taeyeon,” she whipped, “let’s just be honest. You’re scared, aren’t you? Scared of our families, scared of me, I don’t know, but scared as hell.”

Taeyeon looked briefly affronted, but Tiffany could see the shadow of shame beneath it. Jackpot; she was right.

“Well, I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid of anything, least of all our families, least of all you. I’m into you, Taeyeon, and I was really looking forward to going out with you and getting to know you better. I wanted to hold hands with you and kiss you. If you’re saying you don’t want that as much as you want our families to control our lives, well, then, I guess that’s it, isn’t it?”

Tiffany, meanwhile, had no idea where this was all coming from. True, it was what she was feeling, but the fact that it was all just pouring out of her like this was unprecedented and not a controlled action. She decided to accept it as a timely outburst; she really wanted to make this clear to Taeyeon.

“It’s not like that,” Taeyeon said, glancing around, eyes distracted. “It’s not like that at all. Well, it is, somewhat, but not entirely. I mean, yes, I do have those convictions, but I don’t think it’s impossible to get past that. Or… something along that line.”

Taeyeon was rattled. Gloriously, deliciously rattled. Tiffany wasn’t sure why this was what she wanted, but it was certainly what she wanted.

So, she grinned. “Prove it to me. Kiss me right here in this hallway.”

Taeyeon jumped immediately. She looked around; the cool corridor was empty aside from them, and their presence alone was practically insignificant in the metal silence that surrounded them. But, still, she stayed where she was, and she shoved her hands in her pockets for what seemed to be emphasis.

Tiffany didn’t say a word. She simply raised a single eyebrow, which Taeyeon avoided looking at.

She turned on her heel and set off down the corridor again. Words weren’t needed for an exit like that.

But Taeyeon wanted it to be different. “Tiffany, wait! I’m sorry; I really am.”

Sorry, sorry, sorry. The words had a slant in the whispered edges of Tiffany’s mind.

It made her stop. And then it made her turn around. It even made her – “Okay, then. If you can’t make up your mind; find me in the library later and tell me yes or no. If you can’t find me, then you’ll see it as a sign, won’t you? A sign that we’re not meant to be and that I don’t want you. Isn’t that right?”

It wasn’t true understanding that she saw in Taeyeon’s eyes at those words. It was some grudging kind of acceptance. An acknowledgement that her words were true and undisputed.

It made her smile. And she turned away again, leaving Taeyeon behind.

Far behind, something whispered in her mind.

She closed her eyes.


IV. Overcome

My body is heavy. I can’t move. I will myself, I say move please move please I beg you just fucking do it already just do it, just get up do things move move move but my body is dead, I can’t move, nothing happens, I see the immobile weak frozen flaccid state of my being and I despair, this is what makes me cry, the very emptiness of my heart, it hurts me. It keeps hurting me but I don’t feel so I just keep going like a total fool,
look at that idiot still living without life.

Tiffany looked up from the words. Was it a sound she heard? There was nothing there. Far, far away she could hear the other students, exploring and learning like she should be doing.

But she was back with the weird, freaky diary and its dark, deep contents. She felt like she could fall in to this, the world or the abyss that it created, the endless sadness it emitted.

And, of course, still there was no Taeyeon.

What she had been thinking when she handed out that challenge, Tiffany had no idea. It seemed like a good idea at the time, perhaps, or maybe she was telling herself that now as a comfort at a time when it seemed like a terrible idea. Why would Taeyeon go for something like that? Why would anyone, who wasn’t a fictional character, go for some crap like that?

So, she was still alone with the book.

She stroked the edge of its binding because she didn’t have Taeyeon’s jaw there to do the same. She traced the outlines of the handwritten words because she didn’t have Taeyeon’s palm do to the same.

She let it draw her in because she couldn’t kiss Taeyeon. And she let it hold her once tight and then tighter because Taeyeon wasn’t there and Taeyeon wasn’t coming.

And just like that, Taeyeon became her everything and was immediately presented as an absence, eternally missing, ripping her apart.

She dug back into the diary, savouring every word, wrapping the tendrils around herself without any exertion from the darkness.

Tiffany hoped, in some small way, that when Taeyeon arrived later, that she really would accept that Tiffany just wasn’t there anymore after all, and that maybe the darkness could be a comfort to her.


Don’t Make This Hell

Just like Heaven


Taeyeon has a girlfriend who is perfect for her.

She also has three assignments due in the same week, seven shifts at work without a day off, and a pulled muscle in her shoulder that is making her life hell.

She lets Tiffany gently massage her injured shoulder while she stands in the kitchen drinking her coffee in the morning. With her free hand, she traces the tip of her forefinger over two plane tickets. They’re prominently displayed in the kitchen; a point of pride for Tiffany.

A week ago, they bought the tickets and made all the bookings. Tiffany has been buzzing with excitement, delighted that Taeyeon seems receptive to the idea of going on holiday. She’s been talking about it non-stop, a whirlwind of organisational powers.

But Taeyeon has a secret.

She has something that’s been gnawing at her since that night when Tiffany told her about selling her car so that they can go on a trip.

It’s something that occupies her thoughts while she’s at work; when she has her head in her hands as she tries to study; it rolls before her eyes during her walk home and makes her clench her jaw as she mulls it over.

It’s guilt.

Tiffany is the best girlfriend and Taeyeon loves her very much. They have a great relationship, supporting and enjoying each other. But Taeyeon has been too busy and it has worn her down, and this has been affecting Tiffany to the point that she sold her car just to make this big gesture.

And Taeyeon can’t stand it.

“You ready, baby?”

Taeyeon blinks, cup of coffee halfway to her lips, and realizes that Tiffany is no longer touching her shoulders. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. Sorry, still half asleep.”

Tiffany smiles, and kisses her on the cheek. Taeyeon shakes it off; the feeling, not the kiss. She would never shake off Tiffany’s kisses. She considers the guilt to be another fleeting moment – a passing thing that just happens every now and then and that’s it.

She convinces herself of this even more as time goes on. She quivers with the thought sometimes.

The guilt, like a ghost embracing her in a dark hallway, encapsulates her.

She finds herself staring at Tiffany while they eat dinner, and Tiffany notices it too.

“Something on your mind?” she enquires, her expression showing nothing at all.

Does she know? Maybe she knows, Taeyeon thinks. Tiffany knows her better than anyone else in the whole world. If there was anyone who would be able to know how guilty she was feeling right now, it would be Tiffany.

Did that make her any more likely to admit it?


“Nothing,” says Taeyeon, flashing a smile. “Thanks for dinner, it tastes great.”

Tiffany looks pleased with herself. “I managed not to burn it, right?”

Taeyeon laughs, outright, genuine, and winks at her girlfriend. “Right.”

And for a moment she feels like she’s okay with the fact that her own incompetence as a girlfriend led the love of her life to dispose of a valued part of her life just to make things better.

But she’s not.

She lies in bed at night, next to Tiffany, staring at the unseen ceiling, going back and forth with only herself.

Is it even worth feeling bad about?

Then Tiffany rolls over, scoots closer, wakes up and kisses her on the cheek, and on the neck. She whispers something as if she knows and maybe she does, like Taeyeon thought before.

“Tiffany,” she whispers back.

But Tiffany doesn’t say anything again, falling asleep, so Taeyeon decides she doesn’t know. And she shakes it off.

This goes on for days and days until the day is getting closer. Tiffany is practically bouncing around, even early in the morning, and she pulls Taeyeon along to spin around the kitchen with her until Taeyeon presses her against the counter and covers her laughter with a deep, heavy kiss.

“Okay,” Tiffany says when they break apart, sticking close, “I’m not complaining at all, but what was that for?”

Taeyeon kisses her over and over as an answer.

“Okay,” Tiffany says again, her tone different this time, and doesn’t ask the same question twice in a row.

So Taeyeon loves her thoroughly and greedily. She wishes and hopes that every time she kisses her, touches her, squeezes her against her own body and her own warmth – that it somehow makes up for it. She wants it to make up for the nights at work, the days buried under books, the weeks on end when they hardly see each other.

She prays her acts of affection make up for the pure inadequacy of everything that she is.

Whether it could, would, or cannot, she still senses the hollowness in herself that houses the guilt. It doesn’t go away. Neither does the love. They reach a stalemate in her mind and body.

Maybe this time, Tiffany can sense Taeyeon’s indecision. She makes them stop, holding Taeyeon’s face between her hands, and pushes their foreheads together.

“Taeyeon, are you okay? Please answer me this time.”

At first, Taeyeon doesn’t answer. She just moves slightly, running the tip of her nose along Tiffany’s cheek, and burrowing her face into Tiffany’s shoulder. But finally, troublingly, the words tumble out.

“You do so much for me.”

It seems as close to a confession as she’ll get it, and it works the same for Tiffany. Her expression clears, then she frowns again.

“Oh, Taeyeon,” she whispers. “Of course, I do. I love you. I want to do even more for you.”

“But I don’t –” She cuts herself off; another obstacle.

“You don’t what? Don’t want me to do more for you?”

Taeyeon shakes her head. “It’s that, but it’s not that.”

They stay silent, together, up against the kitchen counter, for several rocky minutes.

Tiffany pulls back, clutches at Taeyeon’s arms; her eyes are rimmed red. “You know how much I love you, right? That’s not what this is about. Is it?”

Taeyeon shakes her head and it makes her feel drunk. “I know how much you love me, Tiffany.”

She takes a moment to really look at Tiffany in front of her. The lines of her face. The shades of her eyes. The softness of her hair. She remembers Tiffany from countless memories and dreams real or fictional; years of time spent together, and desires doted upon her.  She knows Tiffany better than she truly knows herself; could see Tiffany in the mirror as easily as her own appearance.

“Do you know how much I love you?”

Contrary to anything Taeyeon could have expected, Tiffany looks hurt.

“Taeyeon… we had this conversation the night I told you I’d sold my car,” she says. “Didn’t that mean anything to you?”

Taeyeon closes her eyes, rubs the tips of her fingers against them while she feels the weight of Tiffany’s hands on her arms keeping her there.

“Of course, it did,” she says but it’s automatic, like she knows it’s true but only because it’s in the manual. “I just can’t do anything like you can. No big gestures from me. I have about five dollars in the bank and you know it’s all yours, but I can’t change anything about our lives right now.”

The way Tiffany stares at her following this statement makes Taeyeon think this is it; whatever the nature of the guilt she’s been feeling for days and days, it’s led to a negative outcome and she’s going to lose her only love.

But Tiffany shakes her head.

“It’s not about the money. Please tell me you know that. Please tell me you know that I didn’t sell my car just for the money, just so we could go on some big trip. It’s not about that; it’s about giving you a break from everything you’re dealing with, so that you can breathe and relax and let me love you for more than a few minutes a day since that’s the most I see of you lately. Does that make sense?”

Sense? All it makes is turbulence in Taeyeon’s chest. She isn’t feeling the right feelings now; she should be fine after hearing that, she shouldn’t have been feeling this guilt in the first place when Tiffany loves her so much and gives her anything – but this solidifies the guilt inside her even more.

“No, no, no,” Tiffany starts whispering, “don’t get scared off. You have that look in your eyes like you want to run. Please don’t let this be a problem; we can stop that from happening.”

Taeyeon rubs at her eyes again. She wills everything to be better and to no surprise, it doesn’t work. What can she do that would make it better?

And Taeyeon decides, right there and then, that if this guilt can’t go away yet, then she’ll just have to spend every day trying to make up for it.

“You’re right,” she says at last. She winds her arms around Tiffany’s waist as if to lock up their embrace. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I’m just panicking about nothing again.” She kisses her, and it’s tight. “I love you.”

“I know.” Tiffany makes sure to meet Taeyeon’s gaze and her voice is weighted with sincerity. “I know that you love me, Taeyeon.”

This really does make Taeyeon smile. And when she kisses Tiffany again, she manages to convince herself that in some small way, the kisses are making her worries fragment little by little.

Just a Moment with you

Macaroni and cheese was undoubtedly the most delicious food in the world. Its taste was so strong and flavourful, the texture so comfortable on her tongue, she wanted to savour every bite and simultaneously inhale it all in one breath. She couldn’t stop eating. Her fork went up, down, into the bowl cradled lovingly by one hand, and it was like she could eat all the macaroni and cheese in the world if it was right here in front of her.


“I think I could eat this forever,” she mumbled. “It feels like it’s been a century already.”


Tiffany sighed and ignored her, albeit pointedly.


Taeyeon looked over at her and pouted. Then she rolled her eyes, and swallowed. “Thank you for the food, baby.”


This time, Tiffany didn’t even react at all. She just flicked through Netflix. It was obvious she wasn’t considering the options with any care.


Taeyeon returned her gaze to the macaroni and cheese, not really seeing it. It was all texture, no substance – but what a good feeling it was.


“Did you have to do it as soon as you got home?”


The sound of Tiffany’s voice brought Taeyeon’s head to turn again, and she blinked. “Do what?”


Tiffany hesitated before staring at Taeyeon, meeting her bloodshot eyes. “Get stoned. You did it as soon as you got home.”


Taeyeon shrugged. Her eyes widened. It looked like she was going to say something – then she just went back to eating.


“Do you have any idea what it’s like for me to come home and find you like that?”


“I can honestly say I don’t,” said Taeyeon. “Because you’ve only tried it once and I was already with you.”


A sharp shove to her shoulder almost caused her to stab herself with the fork and she froze.


“What the fu-”


“It’s insensitive, Taeyeon. Why did you start as soon as you got home? You’re still in your work clothes and everything.”


Taeyeon shrugged again, exaggeratedly this time, and turned her wide gaze on Tiffany. “It’s Friday. I felt like it.”


Tiffany let out a huff of air and clicked something random on Netflix. Her movements were angry even as she pulled on Taeyeon’s arm to bring her closer and snuggled her face into Taeyeon’s shoulder.


Taeyeon looked at her for a minute, hand still raised with her empty fork, bowl of macaroni and cheese clutched to her chest. “You’re really good at sending mixed signals, do you know that?” She kissed the top of Tiffany’s head and resumed eating as if nothing was different.


Everything was different.


When they started dating, Taeyeon was just out of college, new to America but not as new as she used to be and it excited her to be able to explore this new world as a part of it, having decided to stay. It was charming to Tiffany, that bright-eyed determination to absorb a new culture, make a new life. Taeyeon was attractive, smart, funny, someone she could have fun with and relax with and achieve with. They moved in together three months after graduation, Taeyeon having nowhere else to go without a lot of searching and Tiffany happy to be away from her family (who she loved, but had enough of for a while). That was them – young, fresh, eager, making progress. Their house became host to the blend of their shared and developing cultures, both with ties to Korean and American communities, trying new things together. All kinds of new things. Something that was regular to one person was shared with the group as an unfamiliar experience. Sometimes that thing became part of their habits or hobbies, sometimes it didn’t. If it was good, it stuck, if it was bad, they moved on.


Taeyeon thought this was good. Tiffany was undecided.


“Where did you even get it from?” asked Tiffany, eyes on the screen. “I thought you ran out.”


“Just asked for some more.”


“Generous,” remarked Tiffany, quietly. They’d had this talk before. Taeyeon was getting it for free, and Tiffany didn’t believe something like this came without any kind of price.


“Well he already gets it for free from his brother, so he’s happy to share with friends.”


His brother the professional supplier. Tiffany didn’t say anything to that. There wasn’t any point, anyway. The way Taeyeon’s body still twitched every now and then showed she was too far into it for this to be a productive conversation. She peered up, looking at the blissful smile on Taeyeon’s face, and allowed herself to accept that it brought a certain kind of happiness that maybe she couldn’t understand but she wouldn’t stop just yet.


Once a year, to once a month, to once a week. It was such a simple routine now. Was it an addiction?


Tiffany sat upright, and kissed Taeyeon on the cheek, receiving an absent smile in reply. The macaroni and cheese was all gone, the empty bowl resting on the arm of the couch.


It wasn’t that bad. Not yet. And maybe it would never get that bad. It wasn’t harmful.


Taeyeon leaned closer and kissed her, deep.  “You feel so good,” she whispered.


They kissed for a while longer, and Tiffany found to her surprise that she was considering pulling away. Never in the time they’d been together had she ever pulled away from Taeyeon’s kisses. The thought crept up on her, startled her. Taeyeon didn’t seem to notice any shift in the air, but briefly broke contact to put her arm around Tiffany’s shoulder and then her kisses seemed to have some bite to them.

Tiffany mumbled something incomprehensible into Taeyeon’s mouth before slipping a hand under Taeyeon’s shirt, touching the soft skin of her stomach.

Taeyeon’s free hand roamed over Tiffany’s and then along her forearm, and gripped her elbow. She pushed Tiffany gently, making her lie on her back, shifting her own body over her.

“More of you,” she murmured. “You feel so good, baby.”

“Taeyeon,” said Tiffany. She framed Taeyeon’s face in her hands, stopping her from moving her attention to Tiffany’s neck and chest, trying to make eye contact.

Taeyeon’s eyes, while bloodshot and dilated, met her own. “Yeah?”

“I love you, Tae.”

Taeyeon grinned, the same grin she always had. “I love you too, Tiffany. I love you so much. Don’t you know? You’re so beautiful. You’re my everything.”

The words made Tiffany feel a little better, which made her realize that she was looking for reassurance about the situation. It wasn’t the first time they were intimate while Taeyeon was high, but sometimes she wasn’t sure if Taeyeon was still herself or if she was too far lost in her own little world; even if that world was centred solely on worshipping Tiffany’s body.

“I want to make you feel good,” Taeyeon was whispering, kissing along her jaw. “I want to make you feel as good as I feel.”

Somehow, that didn’t seem possible, but Tiffany didn’t mention that. She said nothing at all as Taeyeon kissed her and made love to her. She thought a lot, and then not at all, very deliberately.

And when the next morning dawned, with Taeyeon so deep in sleep that she might as well have been in a coma, Tiffany got up and went to work as normal with precise movements.

She told no one how much it worried her what Taeyeon was doing; least of all, herself. The longer she could keep those thoughts out of her mind, the longer they could stay together, she reasoned. The fact that she was even considering it in that way scared her and made her even more determined not to go any further down that path, because the end looked dark and dismal from where she was standing.

So, when she got home from work and found Taeyeon still lying on the bed, eyes closed, looking perfectly at peace, she told no one how that made her feel. Particularly not herself.

And the days kept coming, and going on.

Mix – Part 19 [Mix: Flip] The End


My humblest apologies. (For the clumsy and failed adoption of this fic; not for the way it ends; I’m not exactly a shining example of a good and reliable person, in fact I’m absolutely terrible as a human being, but I have been known on occasion to write rubbish – i mean decent, fanfic)




“She’s alive” was not a glowing report. Tiffany could hardly breathe just thinking about it. The storm raged on around her but it sounded hollow.

Sunny didn’t say anything when Tiffany climbed into the passenger seat, and the car took off as soon as she was settled.

In the heavy silence, Tiffany started to think. And for the first time, she needed to be honest or she would fall apart right there and then.

Taeyeon could have died. She still could if her injuries were bad.

Against the windows of Sunny’s car, the raindrops were relentless. Disregarding Tiffany’s turmoil, they kept up a steady stream. Tiffany leaned her forehead against the cool surface and stared out at the world.

I knew Taeyeon would get hurt, her thoughts began. Maybe not exactly like this.

She didn’t cause the storm and she didn’t cause the crash – Taeyeon was driving Tiffany’s truck on the way to pick up Tiffany.

She didn’t ask Taeyeon to stick around and she didn’t make any promise – Taeyeon stayed and played Tiffany’s game and kept trying even when Tiffany wasn’t able to admit her feelings.

Why did she keep leading Taeyeon on like this?

But none of it is a lie, Tiffany thought. I’m not playing a game. Not anymore.

Seeing Taeyeon with that other girl had forced her to imagine Taeyeon in a relationship with someone else; the kind of relationship Taeyeon wanted. Probably something safe, simple, typical. Holding someone else’s hand, calling someone else her girlfriend. Someone who, when asked what are we, would not let their fears answer just friends when it just wasn’t true.

And she had wanted to tell Taeyeon that – all of the things she was afraid of. She wanted to explain why she acted the way she did, why she pulled Taeyeon close physically but pushed her away emotionally.

Flashing lights ahead caught her eye; emergency response units were crowded around a corner, a detour put in place.

Her truck.

It was torn, twisted, pushed tight against a wall.

Sunny swore under her breath and wiped aggressively at her eyes before taking the detour.

Tiffany just stared.

The sight of her mangled truck disappeared into the storm as Sunny’s car went on.

Tiffany really wanted to let herself cry, but her heart was beating so fast; she needed to know if Taeyeon was okay.

She wanted to tell Taeyeon everything – what if she missed her chance? She waited so long, never saying all of what she needed to say and now she could have lost Taeyeon.

It scared her more than everything else she was afraid of. While she kept herself safe in her glass box, did Taeyeon fall apart just outside?

And that stunned her so badly, she had to be shaken harshly by Sunny when they reached the hospital.

They asked for Taeyeon at the front desk and hovered in awkward silence in the elevator to the right floor.

There was a flash in Tiffany’s mind as she imagined reaching the room and seeing Taeyeon lifeless and cold; she imagined a world without Taeyeon and it made her close her eyes and hang her head.

She almost didn’t want to open her eyes again, but they reached room 801 and she braced herself.

As soon as she heard the soft beeping of the machinery in Taeyeon’s room, everything around her faded; there was no Sunny, no walls, no windows.

Taeyeon was small and vulnerable in the hospital bed, wires and tubes extending from her body and head. She had long scrapes along her forearms and down the side of her face still reddened with blood. She turned to look at the door way when they entered, her eyes wary and widening at the sight of Tiffany.

There seemed to be a lot to say, and yet nothing, all at once.

“Hey,” Taeyeon said eventually.

“Hey,” echoed Tiffany weakly, sounding more like a patient than Taeyeon did.

“Hey!” This was Sunny, storming forth into their bubble and right up to Taeyeon’s bed, where she smacked her on the shoulder. “Idiot! Don’t do that ever again! You scared me…”

Taeyeon tried vaguely to console Sunny but couldn’t reach her to provide comfort through all the tubing and delicately-wired systems. “I’m sorry. Next time I’ll just jump out and yell Boo! Would that be better?”

Sunny shook her head furiously, and wiped her tears away with both hands. “You just wait until Yuri gets here…” she muttered. Then she took a deep breath, leaned down and half-hugged her friend.  “I’m going to see if I can find a nurse or a doctor and find out how long you need to stay. You two can go ahead and do… whatever it is you idiots do.”

Tiffany became aware of herself as soon as they were left alone, and she hung her head again. A shudder went through her chest as her emotions tipped to the forefront.

Taeyeon watched her. “Sorry about your truck.”

Their eyes met.

“I’ll pay to get it fixed,” Taeyeon said, and smiled as much as she could.

“I love you.” The words tumbled from Tiffany’s lips as they trembled with oncoming sobs and she didn’t know they were coming and did nothing to stop them. “I love you so much, Taeyeon. I don’t know what to do about it other than run and hide and lie. But you need to know it, and I need to know you understand how I feel about you.”

With every word she spoke, Tiffany felt the pressure easing off her heart and rushing out; everything she piled on to dampen down her feelings lifted.

“Come here…”

Taeyeon sat up more, careful not to disrupt any important-looking medical things, and she cupped Tiffany’s face in both hands as soon as she was near.

“I know this is hard for you,” she began in a whisper.

“It’s not,” said Tiffany. “It’s the easiest. What was hard was stopping myself from saying it all this time, because I was so afraid of what might happen.”

Tiffany shook when they kissed, crying and trying to keep herself together while her walls finally crumbled. She became briefly aware of the beeping of hospital machinery, and then Taeyeon was looking at her again, in wonder.

“I think we have a lot to talk about,” Tiffany breathed, and swallowed the swelling in her throat.

Taeyeon nodded, then shook her head. “For once, I don’t want to talk. Not just yet, not after I crashed your truck and ended up in hospital. I just want to look at you for a while.”

And she did that. Lying back against the pillows, skin scraped and bruised, she held tightly on to Tiffany’s hands.

“Friends don’t kiss like this, either.”

It wasn’t the first time Tiffany turned that sentence over in her head. When she kicked Taeyeon out for mentioning it, she spent an eternity pacing around her room, arguing with herself about it.

Now the thoughts came to her again as she kissed Taeyeon. But already this time was different.

Until Taeyeon pulled away. Tiffany felt fear, briefly, a flash of it.

She’d been walking on eggshells ever since the hospital. Barely willing to let Taeyeon out of her sight, yet also feeling like she didn’t deserve to be in her presence, Tiffany wanted everything and thought she deserved nothing.

Taeyeon, on the other hand, was taking it one step at a time; both physically and emotionally.

They still hadn’t really had that talk, but sometimes Taeyeon would give her a little smile, like a secret shared between them; their feelings. Tiffany thought she kind of liked it that way; something between them that was quiet but a steady current flowing between them.

And now, here, when they kissed on the living room couch, some crappy movie in the background; a lazy Saturday afternoon – she felt something very different from anything she’d ever felt before.

So, although Taeyeon’s conclusion of the kiss gave her a moment of terror, Tiffany saw their secret little smile and her heart warmed again.

“All I had to do was crash the truck, huh? To get all of this.”

Tiffany shook her head. “You know what you did was stupid right? Drinking and driving, and in a storm no less? I don’t want to be responsible for that mistake.”

Taeyeon’s expression was shaded with something almost like grief. “Oh, I know. What I did was very wrong, and I’ll never forget it.” Her eyes were clear. “But I’ll also never forget what you said to me.”

The familiar sensation of distress crawled along Tiffany’s skin once more, hooking tiny claws into the skin of her back as if to drag her away from Taeyeon. She almost wanted to run.

“Despite what I said,” she started slowly, “I don’t think I can give you what you want, Taeyeon.”

Taeyeon frowned, but didn’t say anything; whether because she couldn’t or because she wasn’t surprised after all, Tiffany wasn’t able to tell.

“You want something safe, normal. A simple relationship with a straightforward premise. But I can’t do that… It terrifies me to think of that.”

This time Taeyeon shook her head, her frown waning. “Tiffany, no. That’s not what I want. I mean, I want a relationship with you, but what you’re describing…”

She took one of Tiffany’s hands between her own, gently brushing along Tiffany’s fingers, along the lines of her palm, slowly as if to appreciate every millimetre of her.

“I want you,” she whispered. Her gaze returned to meet Tiffany’s; her pupils blown, eyes darker. “I want you for you, not for that image of a simple and easy relationship. I want a relationship with you. It’s not safe, or normal, and it’s far too late to be straightforward after everything we’ve been through together.”

She kissed Tiffany’s knuckles one by one.

“When I was on the way to pick you up, I thought I wanted to ask you point-blank to give me everything back. All that I’ve ever given you; my time, my attention, my understanding, my kisses, my heart. I wanted it back, because we came so close to having something more and you wouldn’t let me have it from you, wouldn’t let me give it to you.”

Tiffany turned her head away, disconcerted by Taeyeon’s words, then tried to turn back and rest her forehead against the side of Taeyeon’s face. She closed her eyes. She hoped the seasick feeling would go away, stop churning in her stomach.

Like taking a pill to stop the nausea, she whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Taeyeon responded, one hand moving up to hold on to the back of Tiffany’s neck.

It worked to keep Tiffany there. They kissed again, deeply, and the fingers of fear that had been latched on to her back were replaced with Taeyeon’s caresses, slowly stroking over the dread that had been sending shards of ice through to her chest as if to remind her not to stay too long.

She felt warm now; too warm, but it was delicious. It was a heat that buzzed along her body, and it stimulated her arms to move, drawing Taeyeon closer.

“Everything is so different,” she breathed.

Taeyeon didn’t stop, maybe because she knew that it was a good thing.

And it was; this was different from every other time when Tiffany found herself being intimate with someone. Even before, with Taeyeon, she was on the edge of everything, of the cliff, ready to leap away and disappear. She was tensed, like a cat always prepared to act. She never relaxed, never let herself get swept up in it.

She never felt the love in it before.

It made her gasp, disconnecting their lips and clutching at Taeyeon’s shoulders, rolling her head to press her cheek against Taeyeon’s; she needed to catch her breath. Had she just fallen all the way down from the cliff’s edge where she used to hang by her fingers with her eyes shut tightly?

Taeyeon softly stroked the side of Tiffany’s jaw, then quietly tilted her face closer again and kissed her.

And as if she could sense the ripple that it sparked along Tiffany’s body, she moved her kisses along Tiffany’s throat.

It wasn’t until she was on her back, feeling contained from both sides with the couch against her back and Taeyeon moving along her body, that Tiffany paused again.

“Tae,” she whispered, “Taeyeon.”

She didn’t explain what it was she wanted; couldn’t really formulate words. Instead she gripped Taeyeon’s face between her hands and stilled her actions, bring their gazes together – so that she could just look at her. Just watch her. Just see the way the delicate skin of her face was flushed, the rapt attention in her eyes, the love and adoration written throughout her.

It helped to see that. And that was different.

Never, ever before had she done this. Sex, most definitely, but not this. She’d never handed herself over, given herself, provided her true feelings and emotions, and her open heart with all her insecurities and doubts, never placed herself in someone else’s hands with such sincerity and trust.

Taeyeon understood her. Taeyeon knew what to do, how to treat her, wanted to be with her, the real her with all the uncertainties and passion.

And Taeyeon knew how to touch her. She built Tiffany up like a song approaching its climax, making the beat slow and fast and faster; and she made Tiffany’s heart drop suddenly and made her scream.

It wasn’t just her fingers, touching her body as deftly as Tiffany would use her turntables, mixing her all up.

It was the look in her eyes, the smile she gave when Tiffany reciprocated despite her writhing.

It was everything; all of what they’d been through and what they’d reached now, here. What they’d produced together.

So when Tiffany reached that peak, rousing her right to the core, stimulating her to arch her back and liberate her body, it was made all the better by Taeyeon right there with her doing the same.

And if this was love, she could do it day after day for as long they could make it.



You can find me tomorrow

No matter what.

It was an agreement they made at the age of seventeen. Probably a common one, often said by a lot of people in their situation, but they meant it and they thought they were the only ones who would ever really hold that promise for the rest of their lives.

Tiffany hoped like hell that they were right about that.

Nearly ten years after they said those words the first and last time, Tiffany came to be standing in front of Taeyeon’s door. She knew it was Taeyeon’s door because the note she held crumpled up in her hand read “T Kim 21A Lockwood Tower Smith Street East” and that matched up with her current location.

The curve on the 2 was abnormally round.

She had found the address through the phone book in an act of pure desperation because it occurred to her – and she still pondered it now – that she had no way of contacting Taeyeon or Taeyeon’s family or anyone at all that she knew all those years ago. Those people used to be her life, fixtures in a little world she thought she would never get out of, and now she’d been through another lifetime altogether and none of them were more than a distant past.

Even Taeyeon.

But they said no matter what and so Tiffany relied on that promise now, and she knocked on the door.

“Be right there!”

Taeyeon’s voice didn’t sound that much different, just calmer maybe, but she had that same lilt she carried with comfort as a teenager.

She looked different though.

“Tiffany,” she said, and her eyebrows rose. “Tiffany?”

Tiffany scraped together a smile. “Hey, Taeyeon.”

“What,” she started, stopped, blinked, “What are you doing here?”

Nearly ten years had passed since they last saw each other and suddenly Tiffany was really feeling it for the first time. It hit her like a freight truck and winded her for a moment.

“Um,” she hesitated. For a while, she looked at Taeyeon.

She wanted to see her, see who she was these days, because maybe she seemed like the same person in a lot of ways but there was no guarantee that she was anything like she used to be. If there was one thing Tiffany had learned it was that life didn’t just change, it destroyed.

“Sorry it’s been so long,” she said, instead of everything that she was thinking.

Taeyeon moved her mouth, kind of like a fish, before answering. “That’s okay. I mean, you’re here now, I guess. Did you want to come in? We can catch up?”

Tiffany nodded, as awkward as can be.

Most likely, Taeyeon could tell there was something wrong, and that to help Tiffany relax they would need to be settled somewhere other than the hallway of her apartment building. Just like the very first day they had met, Tiffany was grateful to know someone like Taeyeon.

If she’d thought more about the world Taeyeon must be living in after all this time maybe she would have envisaged something like the apartment she entered now. It was warm, welcoming, awash with comforting textures and the lush of a home well-loved and lived-in. The colours were happy in the natural light and would be modest in the night. From where she stood, Tiffany could see the furniture in the living room, the couch and the bookshelf and the TV, and a coffee table littered with fashion magazines, and an end table with two remotes stacked neatly side by side.

It was Taeyeon’s home; and it was more of a home than Tiffany had seen in years. She could almost feel tears welling up from her chest, and she swallowed them right back down.

The look in Taeyeon’s eyes almost undid the effort. Tiffany glanced away immediately, pretending to inspect the art on the wall as she was led to the living room.

“Have a seat. Did you want a drink? I could make us some tea or coffee.”

Tiffany shook her head quickly out of habit. “No thank you, I’m fine.”

This time Taeyeon cocked her head to one side, openly curious. “Alright.” She joined Tiffany on the couch, keeping a respectable distance. “So, how have you been, Tiffany?”

It almost hurt her pride to have to be asking for help like this. It would hurt her pride if she had any left.

At what point in a grown woman’s life does she become willing to beg?

No, not beg. This was an appeal to human kindness and generosity. A basic sense of caring that should build the foundation of their species in an ideal world – but this was not an ideal world, so Tiffany was embarrassed and afraid. Thinking that she would seem unbearably weak to ask for help was what made her weak. People drew strength from each other.

Yet none of that helped her now to find the words she needed to explain to Taeyeon what it was that truly brought her here, how she ended up in this situation.

But she wouldn’t cry, either.

So, all she could do was take a deep breath, and meet Taeyeon’s attentive, caring gaze; the eyes that she’d contemplated every day for so many years, still the same.

Then it all just rushed out.

Her whole disreputable history, she even went as far back as the day after they last saw each other; because everything was sort of downhill from there.

And as she spoke, she let her tears flow over her face, hoping they could cover the shame that was burning her up from the inside.

It pained her. It hurt her, deeply, to have to expose herself like this – her true self, the person she was inside that few people ever saw. She knew that when people did indeed see this part of herself, they judged her, they laughed at her, maybe, and they dropped her like a hot coal. Like she was on fire, turning to ash.

She thought of herself just like all those others who ended up worse than this – if she could still consider them to be worse than herself, and maybe she didn’t.

In fact, who was to say that she was any different from them? She fell for the same weakness as them, the same pull, the same fault in her armour. She must have been just as pathetic as them, chasing after the high that they all wanted – and if they were all united in their desires then what did that make her?

Maybe there were moments when she felt like she was not so bad, she was still a good person, she was intelligent and hard-working and sensible and maybe she just liked to have fun every now and then. Sure, in a decent job she was better than them, when she got home and knew how to take care of herself she was better than them, when she paid her bills and helped a friend even when she ended up losing that friend, and when she kept her plans and promises she was better than them but when the drugs were on the table they were all the same starved animals.

She was a beast. She was a terrifying, gnarled beast that carried no respect, only hunger and desperation.

There was no denying the desperation. She acted cool and she felt in control but there was a spark that was lit inside her every time and it was without a doubt that want and need. She couldn’t deny it because it was exactly what she craved. That was the feeling she hunted – to want that bliss so hard and to reach it because the pain went away so much further when it was all she had to wrap around herself at the deepest darkness of her night.

Tiffany knew that was what Taeyeon saw. When she lifted her head, quiet now, trembling with the echoes of her sadness and insecurity, her eyes rimmed red and wet and showing that gritty despondency.

Taeyeon saw everything.

“Oh Tiffany,” she said, sounding breathless as if she’d just lived through all those years in a flash. “Oh, Tiffany, Tiffany.”

Tiffany moved to cover her face, afraid again now, but Taeyeon gripped her wrists lightly and tugged at her, closer on the couch, and she wrapped her up tight in a hug as if it was her gift.

And it felt like the greatest gift of all. Taeyeon, her one true friend from a different time in her life, almost a different world, didn’t run away and didn’t chase her away.

She really was willing to accept Tiffany, even now.

Tiffany felt all the air leave her body in one great rush, as if lead was being removed from her very veins.

“I’m here for you,” said Taeyeon, her voice muffled in Tiffany’s hair, her tone shaky with emotion, “No matter what. Just like what we said, Tiffany, just like what we said.”

Tiffany closed her eyes, squeezed them shut and squeezed Taeyeon just as hard, wanting to hold on to this, the moment, the feeling, the promise, to Taeyeon.

And she hoped it would be enough.

Love That

Taeyeon doesn’t use the word ‘love’ lightly, and she doesn’t use it plenty. To hear Taeyeon say she loves something is to witness the acknowledgment of a treasured part of her life.

That’s how everyone knows that Taeyeon really loves her car.

She says it often, but even if she didn’t it would be obvious in the way she washes it herself and polishes it with care once a week. In fact, she does this every Sunday at 3PM like clockwork. It’s her special car time, just her and her Mercedes, gathered in appreciation. Of course, it’s not all just about how her car looks; it’s that smooth sensation of an engine with quiet power, effortless movement, the way it curves around corners like it’s part of the airflow, a member of the natural order. It’s beautiful.

So, when Taeyeon doesn’t have her special car time, she’s grumpy. There’s no other way to put it. She pouts. She doesn’t talk. She broods, and sighs. But sometimes she can’t avoid it.

And one thing that successfully separates her from her special car time is a broken arm.

It stops her from doing a lot of other things too, like computer games that require two hands and being able to cook for herself with confidence, so it isn’t until Sunday just before noon that it really hits her.

She sulks right away, all too familiar already with the glare that she shoots at the cast on her arm which has taken over her life so completely. Taeyeon’s car is maybe the one true love of her life, and she hasn’t been able to drive it all week unless she takes off the sling and fumbles awkwardly, and now she won’t even be able to wash it.

It should be easy just to shrug it off and take it to the carwash at the gas station down the street but this is her baby. She won’t let a senseless machine wipe itself all over her car and call it a wash. If she can’t touch her car, then she needs at least one other human who cares to do it for her.

It takes thirty minutes of dedicated internet searching to determine exactly which of the carwashes in her city have raving reviews from car enthusiasts. The result is not ideal; it’s barely even in the city at all, hovering at the very edge, but its reviews are all positive and they focus on things like attention paid to each little part of the car and “the look in that girl’s eyes shows how much she cares” so that’s good enough for Taeyeon to at least go check it out.

Whether “that girl” at the carwash really has a caring look in her eyes while she watches or if some lonely middle-aged man wrote the review, there’s no way to tell until she gets there.

And when she gets there, she’s not exactly capable of telling anything.

There’s a young woman washing a car and she’s gorgeous. Beautiful. Dazzling. Brilliant.

It’s summer, so the tiny denim shorts aren’t really a surprise, and maybe the button accidentally became undone while she was working, and there’s no way to avoid that kind of cleavage when your chest is a certain size so –

So maybe Taeyeon shouldn’t be looking.

She blushes despite being in her car, parked on the side of the road, peeking through her tinted windows to investigate the place. The carwash girl has no idea she’s there, doesn’t know what Taeyeon’s eyes have been up to.

Speaking of eyes, there is a decent amount of care in hers. She does seem like she’s wholly focused on the task at hand, so wrapped up in concentration that she even leans closer to the car, angles her body to inspect it intently, and that’s why she’s turning around and curving like th-

The care in those eyes has shifted and Taeyeon knows this because they’re on her now. At first, she panics, then figures it is purely chance, and that she still can’t be seen behind her tinted windows, then realizes her tinted window is no longer tinting in front of her, so she panics some more because somehow, at some point, while she was ogling this attractive girl, she lowered the window and now they’re looking at each other. Looking at each other.

She flicks the button and the window buzzes up again, a little too slow for her liking, and she dies inside.

Now she must decide; option one, turn around and go home and sulk – option two, hand over her car to this woman who is intimidatingly attractive and just saw Taeyeon checking her out but really seems to do a good job of washing cars.

Taeyeon weighs the situation, and takes her time to think about it.

Her uninjured hand strokes the steering wheel lovingly.

She sighs, and gets out of the car.

Sometimes she must put the needs of her car above the embarrassment of herself, and this is one of those times. This is important.

“Hey there,” the girl calls out, and there’s a twinkle in her gaze that Taeyeon can’t escape. “Can I help you?”

Taeyeon coughs unexpectedly, then straightens up. “Well, I need a favour. Well not a favour, I mean obviously I’ll pay, I just mean it’s special to me. I was hoping you could wash my car?”

“Well,” the girl echoes, voice lilting with a teasing emphasis, “this is a carwash, and I work here, so there’s a pretty solid chance that I could indeed wash your car in exchange for money, since that’s what I do all day.”

Taeyeon laughs faintly. She sticks out her arm. “As you can see, I’m currently unable to take proper care of my car, and this place has good reviews. What do you think? Do you have time to do mine today?”

“Your car?” The girl squints past Taeyeon at the vehicle in question. “Are you sure it needs a wash? It looks pretty clean to me.”

Taeyeon reaches behind her instinctively, tracing her fingers along the surface of the car. “Clean? Of course, it’s clean. I take very good care of my car.” She tries to remove some of the defensive tone in her voice. “It just needs a wash and polish to keep it that way. That’s all.”

The curl of the girl’s mouth tells her that she’s busted; this girl knows her type, the over-protective car owner who is reluctant to let unholy hands touch their beloved.

“My name is Tiffany,” says the attractive car-wash girl, “and I’m sure I can fit your car in to my busy schedule.” She gestures behind her to the car she’s working on now, sparkling clean, and the line of cars parked behind it. “But only if you promise me something.”

Taeyeon’s automatically wary, unsure of what game is being played. “And what’s that?”

“Don’t hover while I work,” Tiffany begins, shifting her weight and resting a hand on her hip, “and take me out for a drink. You have a beautiful car and I’d like to get to know it better after I’ve totally, utterly, absolutely polished it from top to bottom.” She winks discerningly.

The confidence and suddenness of the appeal catches Taeyeon off-guard. She feels stricken, the same way she felt when Tiffany saw Taeyeon checking her out. The situation is not that different.

It’s while she’s staring at Tiffany in shock that she notices the ever-slight pinkness dusting Tiffany’s cheek, and the way her smile is gentler than before, not as cocky as her words were. Maybe she was being genuine.

The thought makes Taeyeon more comfortable but also more confused.

She forces herself to relax by loosening some of the muscles in her body one at a time.

“Well,” Taeyeon says, “I should let you know that by coming into close contact with my car, you’re at a level that few people reach in my life. So maybe a drink is necessary. I’ll need to check out the person who’s touching my car so intimately.”

Tiffany raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I think you’ve done that already.”

Taeyeon allows herself to smile, small. “You know what I mean.”

The look in Tiffany’s eyes is a little different now, assessing her, thoughtful. Then she tugs on the towel that’s been hanging off her shoulder, and half-turns to get back to the car she was working on.

“You can park it just there,” she points to a space directly beside them, not at the back of the line, “I’ll do it next and then my shift is over.”

She glances at Taeyeon over her shoulder, and Taeyeon tries her very hardest to keep her eyes on Tiffany’s face.

“And then we’ll go get a drink and talk about –” she pauses, grins, “– cars.”

Taeyeon nods mindlessly, barely functioning at this point, completely not thinking about her broken arm or the fact that a stranger will be washing her car. Suddenly everything feels fantastic. The sun is brighter, the day is clearer, the air is fresher.

She doesn’t even feel grumpy that she won’t get her alone time with her car today.

Because she’s got a date with the gorgeous, beautiful, dazzling, brilliant girl from the carwash.

And she loves that. Not as much as she loves her car. But the only other time she’s thought the words ‘love at first sight’ was when she bought her car, so maybe this is not that far off.

She nods to herself, skips a heartbeat when Tiffany winks at her, and pats the hood of her car as if to congratulate it for a job well done.

She really loves that car.

Hearts A Mess

Taeyeon just wants Tiffany to commit. She wants something simple, solid, sensible. She wants the kind of comfort and security that comes with a stable, strong relationship – the kind where she can say without a doubt that they are in a relationship, and she has a long-term girlfriend; the kind where she can say anything, actually, unlike whatever they have now that’s being treated like some deathly secret.

And Tiffany is usually in a hurry. In the morning it’s always the same, the scramble for clothes, the rushed touch-up in the mirror using the make-up she carries in her purse, maybe two mouthfuls of a cup of coffee but that’s as much as she can get before it’s a quick kiss on the cheek and then Tiffany will be out the door and Taeyeon will have nothing to do. The only thing left is to finish her breakfast and go to work, thinking about Tiffany without knowing when she’ll see her again.

She doesn’t ever feel like she’ll never see Tiffany again at all, like there’s nothing at all after the night is over, she just has no confirmation or estimate of the duration of time between that goodbye kiss and the hello kiss. She doesn’t know if she’ll get an ‘I missed you’ kiss. Maybe she can imagine it’s like that.

Every day she tells Tiffany to stay for breakfast, to leave some clothes here so she can have a shower and freshen up before she leaves, even just leave a toothbrush. But that always gets shaken off as if it’s no big deal and Taeyeon always lets it go like she feels the same way about it. She pretends to be okay with something so casual it’s hardly noticeable and no one knows. She takes what she can get – and somehow this makes her feel guilty.

Today she watches. It’s still early, barely dawn outside, and she lies beside Tiffany and watches her sleep. She examines the lines of Tiffany’s face with the awareness that shortly Tiffany will be leaving. She can see it in her mind’s eye, the hurried movements and the goodbye.

Taeyeon could write a book on goodbyes.

Instead, she makes coffee and checks the time, counting the minutes until Tiffany will predictably begin her routine.

She sips her coffee in the quiet and restful early morning hours.

She waits for Tiffany.

Play the Ace. (three)

The first time Taeyeon sleeps in Tiffany’s bed is only a week after their first date. They go to an arts festival where they walk all day long between bits and pieces that express people’s dreams and fears. Afterwards they have dinner by the lake – fresh fish and wine – and they talk about it all. It brings them closer and closer, until they end up still tangled together on Tiffany’s bed whispering about their own thoughts and feelings, opening their hearts and minds to be pulled nearer.

Tiffany locks their fingers together, stretches both of their arms up like they’re reaching for something, and then she presses against Taeyeon’s body and kisses her deeply.

Taeyeon is a bit breathless when they pause, so Tiffany looks at her quietly. It’s already dark outside, the lights in the rest of the apartment off, a tiny beside lamp the only thing providing vision in the room. It accentuates the planes of Taeyeon’s face, the curve of her cheek, the strands of her hair.

“Are you afraid of moving too fast?” she whispers.

Taeyeon lowers their hands, disengaging her fingers to rest them along Tiffany’s jaw. “No, not really. This is…. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever known. You’re special, and this is special.”

“What are you afraid of?”

Taeyeon kisses her first before answering. “I’m afraid of heights. Fire. Being hated. Public speaking, a little.”

Tiffany smiles. “And where does this rate on that scale? Our relationship.”

“I’m not afraid of this. This could be the best relationship of our lives. We can make each other happy, and stronger.”

“You sound sure,” Tiffany observes. “We’ve only known each other for a week.”

Taeyeon shrugs, curls up a little, and her hand slips to rest on the side of Tiffany’s neck.

“I’m not afraid of you. Not you.

How is it possible that it still feels like the first time?

Even now, lying with Taeyeon for what must be the thousandth time, a different night but the same light caressing her lover’s features, Taeyeon’s mouth set in comfort.

“Thank you for not leaving me,” Tiffany casts out towards Taeyeon.

Taeyeon’s lips curve slightly downwards, making her look sadder than she should. “You know I won’t leave you.”

Tiffany sighs. “I think I know that.”

Her response causes Taeyeon to frown. She shuffles closer on the bed, hooks an ankle over Tiffany’s, kisses her softly on the nose. “I won’t leave you. And I’m sorry if you’re not as sure of that as you used to be before we talked about it.”

“Will you be honest with me now, then? Please?”

Taeyeon closes her eyes and Tiffany is afraid she won’t answer. She wraps her arms around the body before her and holds her close.

“You told me to go to that meeting and tell them what I want, and I did,” Tiffany says. “I want to win the election and I want you. So, I told them that.”

“It’s not the same, what you told them. What if everyone finds out about us? You have to change the world first.”

Tiffany pulls back. “When we first started dating, you seemed like you knew what you were getting in to. Like you knew we would reach this point one day. What did you think would happen – ”

“Not like this,” Taeyeon interrupts, tensing so the muscles in her neck look tighter. She sat up and dislodged their physical connection. “I thought – I thought you could get through the election, build up the image and the career, and then maybe…”

“Maybe?! You thought maybe then I would tell everyone about the love of my life? Taeyeon,” Tiffany protests, “it’s not a maybe for me, and I didn’t think it was for you either. I want to do this. Definitely.”

They sit there in the rumpled sheets and near-darkness of the bedroom they share so often, and Tiffany hates the glistening of Taeyeon’s eyes, the look that lies beneath. Had they just changed rhythm at the same time to reach a new contrast? Now that Tiffany was no longer uncertain about their relationship, was Taeyeon?

“When did this happen?” Tiffany whispers. “How long have you been feeling this way? Like you… like you’re not sure if you want to be with me anymore when I need you the most.”

The way Taeyeon covers her face with her hands tells her everything, as much as she loathes to believe it. She crawls off the bed, shaky on her feet, and makes it to the couch in the living room before she starts crying.

She knows Taeyeon follows her and is standing a few feet away in her shirt and shorts with her messy hair and she won’t look at her because it would be too much.

“I thought when you came here tonight… It seemed like it meant you were with me on this. Like you were going to stand by me and help me with this.”

Taeyeon hasn’t said a word and Tiffany tries to curl up into her absolute smallest.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Taeyeon says, eventually, her voice soft. “It’s not like that. Really. I want to be here for you, with you, and I love you. I want to have this relationship with you.”

Tiffany raises her head a little and rests it on her arms, tries to slow her tears. “What is it then? Because it feels like you’re pulling away from me. Is it the campaign, do you not want to run it?”

Taeyeon is already shaking her head. She tugs aimlessly at the hem of her t-shirt. “I don’t know. I don’t know what it is. And that’s me being completely honest with you. I don’t know what’s making me feel this way, making me unsure and afraid. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you.”

The words leave Tiffany to regard Taeyeon in silence, her body settling again as she stopped crying. They stare at each other in the middle of the living room, the middle of the night.

Tiffany slowly unfolds herself. She stands and goes to Taeyeon, pulling her into a hug. She wishes she was moving with the same confidence and comfortableness as she was in the past.

But something has changed.

Her movements don’t feel as definite, as solid as they used to.

She closes her eyes, presses her face into Taeyeon’s hair who returns the embrace with the same lightness and fragility.

“So we’re going to do this? All of this?”

Taeyeon’s fingers tighten on Tiffany’s back, briefly yanking at the fabric of her clothes. She shifts her head and they kiss, barely touching at first, then firmer.


So they will. But Tiffany carries with her the ghost of fear, uncertainty, and sometimes when Taeyeon holds her hand or tells her how much she loves her, that little ghost doesn’t believe her at all.

She’s looking at a photo on her phone, one they took years ago at the art festival when they just started dating, as she sips coffee in her father’s study. At the time, she wished she could have made it her profile picture on social media – the thought makes her pause now. She still wishes she could. She wishes she could post all sorts of photos of them, going on dates, lazing around the house, playing games, celebrating anniversaries. The secrecy they’d been using as their relationship developed carried a giant lock that she wanted to open.

“Here are some of the files,” her father says as he re-enters the room, his eyes on the open folders in his hands, “I wasn’t able to find much from my initial schedules before I was given a manager, but –” He stops short of his desk, looking at his daughter. “Are you all right?”

Tiffany wipes her face, shoves her phone away. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Her father’s face shows his opinion of the blatant lie.

Tiffany turns her head, avoiding the stare.

With shuffling steps, her father continues to his chair and spreads the files out in front of him as he sits.

“I think it’s time for us to have a talk,” her father says. “The Talk. Or one of them, anyway. You’re about to enter a dangerous world, Tiffany. Politics can be dirty and the media is cut-throat. If there’s anything scandalous in your life that affects your performance and your image they will –”

“And what about you?” Tiffany asks, frowning. “If there’s something like that in my life, how will you react?”

Her father doesn’t seem surprised at the question. He seems to pick his words carefully as he answers, “You are my daughter. I’m here to help you. If someone is hurting you, tell me.”

“Unlike the media and politicians who will tear me apart, right?” Tiffany shakes her head. “Never mind. You know we don’t need to have that talk, Dad. You gave me the minor version when I was a teenager.”

He smiles a little at the memory. “Yes, but back then we had a strict no-dating rule and you had a curfew. Now you’re an adult with your own personal life and your own home.” He looks down for a moment. “I know it’s hard for you to talk to me sometimes about your life because I’m not just your father, I’m a public figure. But now you will be too. I want to make sure you’re ready professionally and personally.”

Tiffany takes a deep breath and lets it all out. “There is someone,” she admits. “I’m dating someone. I don’t know if now’s a good time to tell you, even though… I mean, I’ve been seeing this person for quite a while but I never told you.”

Her father’s eyebrows shoot up at this. “Oh. Oh, I see.”

There’s an awkward pause.

“Are you two fighting? Is that why you looked so sad?”

Tiffany curls the fingers of one hand into a fist and directs her gaze to it. “We’ve been fighting a lot lately. My decision to run in the election is making things… tense.”

“I understand,” her father says, and nods. “I know the effect that sort of thing can have on relationships. Your mother and I….” But he doesn’t finish. “When you’re ready, please tell me. Whenever you’re ready. I’ll be patient. And if the fighting gets too much, if you need help from your Dad, tell me.”

Before all the arguments with Taeyeon, and all the doubts, Tiffany would have told him right then and there. She would have looked him in the eye and said I’m in love with Taeyeon. It would have been the right time, when they were about to enter this political race as a team and as their relationship grew stronger. Instead their relationship was tentative, not shattered and not yet cracked at the edges, but wavering even if temporarily.

“I will,” she says, and that’s all she can say.

Her father smiles at her.

He’s smiling again days later as he waits off to one side at her press conference. She swallows her nerves and nods at him, and she walks out into the path of camera lenses and flashes of photographs. The crowd is muttering but eagerly awaiting her voice.

Taeyeon stands next to her father, staring at her along with everyone else in the room but her gaze is different. Tiffany looks back at her, briefly, hit with the feeling of love and admiration that she wasn’t sure she could keep expecting from Taeyeon. Bolstered, she turns to the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to thank you for coming to hear me speak today.”

She knows Taeyeon is still watching her closely. She imagines she’s holding her breath in anticipation.

“After much media speculation, I can now formally announce -”

She tries to stop thinking, to just speak. She should say these words.

“– I will be running for office in the coming election.”

The camera flashes flare up in response, a wave of murmuring echoing throughout the crowd as journalists react.

True, it shouldn’t be much of a shock to them.

“I seek to lead our people…”

For months, there were whispers and questions.

“… to the greater and stronger futures…”

Were they excited that she was going through with it? Did they think she would make the game interesting, help them write more and sell more and say more about her?

Did they think she was silly, a fool, and about to fall flat on her face?

“… and will finally have a hand in creating.”

Suddenly, her eyes snap towards Taeyeon, seeking her out. She wants Taeyeon to know this. She’s not speaking only to the media and the public.

“Together, we can do what should be done for the world we want and need.”

Taeyeon closes her eyes.

Tiffany smiles at the journalists, barely able to see them through their cameras.

“Thank you.”

Her father steps up beside her and they pose for some photos, then Taeyeon joins them and leans towards the microphone, her shoulder brushing against Tiffany’s.

“Ms Hwang will now take four questions,” she says succinctly, already scanning the crowd for journalists they’re familiar with.

“Will your policies be intended to carry on your father’s legacy in this city?”

For the last time, I’m not my father. “Not intentionally. My father and I share many views on the world, but we are different people from different generations. I will do what I need to do.”

“Do you think with your image as the good daughter, you could really make an influence on the voters?”

They’ll see me. “I think my image thus far has been beneficial. Likewise, I am confident that voters will know all they need to know about me to make an informed decision at the polls.”

“You’ve been quiet about your life until now, how do you feel about the prospect of putting yourself out there?”

“Again, I am confident voters will know all they need to know about me to make an informed decision at the polls.”

She sees, out of the corner of her eye, a tiny nod of approval from Taeyeon. A well-handled question.

“Last question,” Taeyeon says, and straightens the sleeves of her jacket.

“Ms Hwang – How soon can I get an interview?”

There’s a polite chuckle amongst the journalists and Tiffany laughs sedately.

“The contact information for my campaign team will shortly become available. Thank you all for your time, and I look forward to seeing you again.”

The effect left by the noise and pressure of the situation doesn’t leave her for hours, buzzing through her veins and making her heart beat severely with left-over adrenaline. In the past, she’d considered the concept of interviews would be easier to handle; one-on-one with a journalist rather than being set upon by a pack of them. Yet she’d never assented to one, particularly after her mother’s death. Now an interview seems like an interrogation, and Tiffany knew it was because her secrets were weighing heavily on her mind.

She takes great pleasure in pulling off Taeyeon’s jacket for her when they meet in her apartment late that night. “I appreciated having you with me today, but can we just relax now? No more work clothes.”

Taeyeon grins at her. Tiffany jumps on the chance to plant a kiss on the dimple that is revealed on Taeyeon’s cheek, which leads to another kiss, and another. Then she’s removing Taeyeon’s work clothes for her, one button at a time, and pressing her against the wall.

When they do relax, it’s to the sights and sounds of a cooking competition show on TV, at least three blankets thrown all over them on the couch, and two mugs of sweet hot chocolate.

“My Dad mentioned my mother the other day,” Tiffany remarks. She’s watching the sole surviving marshmallow swirling in her cup.

Taeyeon makes a hum of acknowledgement. She tosses her arm around Tiffany’s shoulder. “Yeah?”


Tiffany sips at her drink, her other hand coming up to trace a line down Taeyeon’s ring finger.

“I miss her.”

Taeyeon leans slightly so she can touch her lips to Tiffany’s cheek. “She’s proud of you.”

The thought makes Tiffany smile.

If she can get even one thing right with this mission of hers, something like that would be okay. Best case scenario, she won’t lose Taeyeon too.