Archive of Our Own

“Honestly, Lily, he wasn’t even worth it.”

Yoona’s usual sarcastic words barely even hit Lily. She just stared at the sweat beading on her shot glass. The bar, 'Lockdown,' a well-known university spot, buzzed with tons of chatter, clinking bottles, and loud, annoying laughter. 

The air hung thick with the scent of old beer, cheap perfume, and the warm, close press of too many bodies. The lights were dim, casting long, blurry shadows, making everyone look a little less defined, a little more like a part of the noisy background.

It was, in its own messy way, nice—if you could handle the sticky floors and the constant hum of a hundred conversations. 

Lily, though, was on a totally different page, only focused on the dull, persistent throb of a headache starting to bloom behind her eyes. She swallowed another shot of soju, the burning drink a quick, welcome break from the quiet, hollow ache in her chest.

“Still, why do I feel this way?” Lily mumbled, her voice a little rougher than usual, the unfamiliar sting of alcohol still hanging in her throat. 

She wasn't really a drinker. Her usual go-to was a frappe, or even some potato chips if she just wanted something to munch on. But after he —that ghost of a situationship, that human-shaped blank space—had sent that dry, short text, just a few words that wiped out weeks of unspoken closeness, of comfortable silences and shared inside jokes, the idea of alcohol suddenly seemed less like a bad habit and more like a sweet, much-needed escape. “It’s not like we were… anything. Not officially, anyway.”

Yoona just snorted, a sound that was half-laugh, half-disbelief. “He wasn’t even good-looking. Like, seriously.”

“I know!” Lily shot back, a frustrated groan slipping out. That was the most annoying part! How could someone so completely normal, so easy to forget, take up such a huge space in her head? It felt like a glitch in her own system, a bug she couldn't debug. 

“That’s what makes this so incredibly irritating! And what if it was all just in my head, right? Why do I have to feel this way over, what, a ghost?”

The word felt right, a perfect way to describe the fleeting, touch-and-go connection that somehow left a real, painful mark—like a phantom limb, an ache for something that wasn't truly there.

“A ghost is… a fun way to put it,” Yoona thought aloud, scrunching up her nose. “He was more like… well, if a pimple suddenly turned into a person…?”

“Hey! Don’t make fun of his acne like that!” Lily whined, a hint of her usual playful annoyance cutting through the gloom. Yoona, always stirring the pot, just gave her a small, knowing laugh.

As the words left her mouth, Lily’s eyes drifted past Yoona’s shoulder, catching sight of someone stepping onto the small, makeshift stage.

Okay, it was less a stage and more a slightly raised wooden platform, with a beat-up amplifier and a super cheap-looking microphone wobbling on a rusty stand. The stage lights were terrible, flickering in sickly yellows and greens, making everything look a bit off-kilter. 

Still, the girl who got up there had this undeniable grace, a quiet confidence that really stood out against the bar’s cramped, unappealing mess. 

Her posture was straight, her shoulders relaxed, and her movements were smooth as she adjusted the mic, a stark contrast to the drunken swaying around them. Her shape was slim, and while Lily couldn't really see her face in the terrible, flickering stage lights, she could tell the girl had long, dark hair that seemed to shine even in the dimness, catching what little light there was.

Lily didn't pay her much mind, not yet. 

Her own personal drama was way more interesting. She turned back to Yoona, who was now just fiddling with her straw, swirling the melting ice in her drink with a distant, almost bored look.

“It’s just crazy, you know?” Lily grumbled, throwing her head back in frustration, a dramatic move that got a sympathetic chuckle from Yoona.

Yoona just raised an eyebrow, silently telling Lily to keep going with her complaints.

“I spent so much time on him.” Lily frowned, feeling a fake headache start behind her eyes, like her frustration was physically building up, a pressure behind her temples.

Time.

That was what she felt most ripped off by. Not just the hours, but the mental space, the emotional energy, the quiet hopes she hadn't even dared to say out loud. Every shared laugh, every late-night text, every casual touch now felt like a cruel trick.

“I was close to his friends! His family! We even went to his cousin’s birthday, for crying out loud! And then he says we weren’t anything? That it was all just… casual?” The word tasted like ash in Lily’s mouth, bitter and stale.

Yoona laughed, a quick, sharp burst of amusement. “Well, you know how things are in uni.” She wiped the sweat from her beer bottle, glancing quickly at the stage. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“I’m gonna–” Lily started, mumbled, then a frustrated groan escaped her lips. Before she could explain her big plan for revenge (or, more likely, her plan to just feel sorry for herself until she felt better), the universe, as if making fun of her, chimed in.

The singer on stage, with perfect timing, started a cheesy, upbeat love song. It was the kind of song that made you want to skip through a field of daisies, holding hands with your soulmate, and Lily tried hard not to smack her forehead on the table. The lyrics were so saccharine, so utterly wrong for her current mood, it was almost comical.

Yoona, though, seemed fine. She hummed along to the sweet song, occasionally peeking at the girl singing. “She has a nice voice.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Lily muttered, glaring at her friend.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, you know,” Yoona jokes, laughing to herself, clearly enjoying Lily’s misery just a little bit. Lily just gave her a fiery look, but even that felt half-hearted.

Lily had to admit Yoona was right, though. Her scattered, angry thoughts, like a bunch of startled birds, felt like they were slowly fading away, pulled in by the singer’s smooth, slightly raspy voice. 

It wasn't just good; it was captivating . Lily always loved musicians, being a singer and a music major herself, so she found herself quieting down, her frustration forgotten for a moment, just to really listen to the girl’s voice properly. It had a way of cutting through the bar's noise, a surprising clarity that made the cheesy lyrics almost… okay. Almost. It was like a clear stream cutting through muddy water.

Lily’s eyes met the singer’s sharp, steady gaze, and she found herself giving her a real, thankful smile. The singer briefly smiled back. Then Lily, feeling a new kind of curiosity, turned to face Yoona again.

“Well, whatever. I’m gonna drink tonight, and you’re coming with me.” Lily puffed out her cheeks, staring down the soju like it was a challenge.

“As much as I’d love to, Lily, I have somewhere to be tomorrow.” Yoona gave Lily a cheeky little grin. “Some of us have early morning classes, you know?”

“Boo,” Lily gave Yoona a thumbs down, her eyes snapping to look at her friend. Yoona had already finished her beer and was stuffing her things into her dark blue backpack. “You’re leaving me here with my thoughts? Alone?”

“You’re a big girl, you can handle yourself.” Yoona shook her head, amused. She stood up slowly and patted down her clothes, making sure she looked good before leaving. “Text me when you get home, yeah?”

Lily could only nod quietly, her eyes closing as she felt the alcohol settle in her body, a warm, fuzzy blanket that didn't quite cover the cold spots. She felt Yoona give her a quick hug, a fleeting comfort.

When Lily opened her eyes, Yoona was already walking out of Lockdown, disappearing into the crowd. Lily groaned, a low, drawn-out sound of pure, unadulterated loneliness.

She checked her phone now and then, as if her ghost would suddenly want her back, or apologize and ask for a second chance. Her thumb hovered over his contact, a useless gesture.

Of course, all she saw was her lockscreen, a drawing of a happy dog, and the time—mocking her.

9:42 PM.

It was too early for her to go home, Lily thought, the silence of being truly alone in the noisy bar suddenly deafening. So she took another shot of soju instead.

Haewon adjusted the mic, her fingers brushing against the cool, slightly sticky metal. Another gig, another Thursday night at 'Lockdown.' The air in Lockdown always felt a little thick, a mix of stale beer and desperation, but she’d grown used to it. It was a familiar scent, almost comforting in its predictability.

These bar performances were pretty normal for her now, a regular rhythm in her university life, a dependable side hustle. She often signed herself up for the gigs whenever she had free time, finding a strange kind of peace in the routine. 

It wasn't just about the money; there was something satisfying about filling the space with her own sound, a small pocket of order in the chaos, even if most people were too busy shouting over each other to truly listen. It was a fun way to earn some extra allowance, sure, but definitely not enough to be her main thing. 

The pay was minimal, a few crumpled bills that barely covered a couple of good coffee runs or a new book she’d been eyeing.

She flashed a quick, easy grin at the blurry faces in the crowd, her gaze sweeping over them, acknowledging them without really seeing anyone in particular. It was a practiced move, a performer's instinct. 

Her fingers found the familiar, smooth neck of her guitar, Dionysus, a trusty old friend whose worn wood felt like an extension of her own arm. The whale carved into its fretboard, a small, playful detail that was a secret just for her, a tiny bit of whimsy in her otherwise structured life.

The wooden platform under her feet felt a little wobbly, like it might give out if she jumped too hard, but in a weird way, it was cozy. It was her spot, a small island of control in the chaotic sea of the bar, a temporary haven, even if it was just for an hour or two. 

The cheap stage lights flickered, casting long, dancing shadows, but she knew exactly where to stand to catch the best angle.

As she strummed the opening chords of her next song—another upbeat, slightly cheesy love tune, a definite crowd-pleaser—her eyes flickered across the room.

She noticed a girl with short hair, like a bob, sitting with a friend, looking pretty miserable. Her shoulders were slumped, and her head was thrown back in a dramatic groan – the kind of misery that made you want to offer them a warm blanket and a hot chocolate, maybe even a sympathetic ear.

The girl had just thrown her head back, groaning dramatically, which made Haewon almost crack a smile mid-song. It was a funny, relatable moment, a flash of shared humanity in the noisy bar.

Haewon wasn’t usually the type to sing cheesy songs for her gigs; she preferred something with a bit more soul, a bit more depth, something that resonated with her own introspective nature. But 'Paper Rings' had been stuck in her head ever since she heard it in a boutique last week, a relentless earworm, and she felt like she had to sing it or else it would never leave her head, haunting her every waking moment. It was a compulsion, almost.

Then, a moment later, their eyes met. Just for a second. The girl gave her a small, encouraging smile. It was a genuine smile, not just a polite one, and it felt… nice. Really nice. A warm little flutter in her chest, like a tiny bird taking flight.

Most people here were just background noise, a faceless hum, but that one smile felt like a little spotlight just for her. It was a tiny, unexpected spark in the usual hum of the bar, a moment of real connection in a sea of indifference, a silent acknowledgment that someone was actually listening .

Haewon briefly smiled back, a quick, almost unconscious gesture, before she refocused on her performance. 

The song flowed out, her voice smooth and a little raspy, cutting through the bar's din with surprising clarity. She watched the girl for a moment longer, a flicker of curiosity stirring, before the girl turned back to her friend, her focus shifting. 

Haewon just kept playing, the notes of Dionysus filling the air, carrying her through the rest of her set, but that brief interaction lingered, a soft echo in her mind.

When Haewon finishes up, shoving her guitar into its worn case and lugging it over her shoulders, the weight a familiar comfort, she catches a glimpse of the miserable girl once more.

The girl was alone now, slumped a little lower, anxiously checking her phone from time to time, her thumb swiping aimlessly across the screen, a silent plea for a message that wasn't coming. 

Haewon felt a quiet tug of concern, a familiar empathy she often tried to keep hidden. She had half a mind to walk up to her, to check if she was doing okay, to offer a simple, "Hey, rough night?"

A hand on Haewon’s shoulder snapped her out of her thoughts, and she turned to face the owner. She'd been so lost in her thoughts about the miserable girl that she hadn't even heard him approach, a testament to how deeply she'd been observing.

“Great set tonight, Haewon.” The man was in his mid-forties, the owner of Lockdown, a steady, almost paternal presence in the chaotic bar. He was taller than Haewon, with a kind face and eyes that had friendly wrinkles around them that crinkled when he smiled.

“Sorry I can’t afford to pay you more than you deserve.” He murmurs, his voice a little rough with genuine regret, taking Haewon’s hand and placing her measly pay—a few crumpled bills, barely enough for a decent meal—in her palm.

“It’s all good, sir.” Haewon grins, a genuine smile on her face. She really meant it. “I just like this place. Honestly, it’s my go-to spot whenever my friends invite me for a night out. The vibe’s chill, you know? Plus, it’s close to campus.”

“Still, you should be appreciated more for your performances.” He offers Haewon a gentle smile, a hint of genuine respect in his eyes. “Any particular reason you like singing here other than that?”

Haewon hums to herself, her mind already drifting back to the short-haired girl who was now missing—no longer sitting at her table. 

Haewon scanned Lockdown for a bit, her eyes darting through the remaining patrons, before looking back at the owner. “I guess it’s a good place for people-watching, in a way. Everyone’s so into their own lives that I’m just filling the silence, providing a soundtrack to their dramas.” She chuckled softly.

He gives her a hearty laugh, a deep, rumbling sound, even patting her back warmly as he does so. “That sounds like you. I’ll see you next week, then?”

Haewon only offers him a nod, her gaze once more sweeping the now-emptying bar.

Thursday nights were always dull to Haewon. It felt like the most awkward day of the week, where you’re close to the weekend but not quite there yet, stuck in a sort of limbo. 

As Haewon navigates the thinning crowd to leave Lockdown, she finds herself furrowing her eyebrows at the lingering scent of cheap cologne and the cloying sweetness of spilled drinks, a mix that always reminded her of restless teens and young adults trying too hard.

Finally, like a saving grace, she steps out into the cold, crisp air of the city night. The sudden chill was a welcome shock after the stuffy warmth of the bar. Haewon takes a big, deep breath, letting the fresh air fill her lungs, cleansing her senses.

Just as she was about to sling her guitar case more comfortably and head home, kicking a pebble away idly with her worn red sneaker, a loud, ragged wail makes Haewon freeze in her movements. 

It wasn't just a cry; it was a raw, guttural sound of pure despair (and maybe frustration? Desperation? Haewon couldn’t tell).

Her head snaps immediately to where the sound came from, her heart giving a little lurch. 

And there she was: the same miserable girl from earlier, the one with the bob and the sad eyes.

This time, the girl was sitting hunched on the curb just outside the bar, her head buried deep in between her hands. Her body shook with silent sobs, and she kept groaning, whining, ruffling her hair and grasping it out of sheer, overwhelming frustration. 

It was a truly heartbreaking sight. A part of it looked funny, though, because the girl also looked like she was wrestling with anger rather than sadness.

Haewon, admittedly, was a little bit scared. Not of the girl, exactly, but of the raw, exposed pain she was witnessing. It was a vulnerability she rarely encountered, and it made her feel a strange mix of discomfort and an undeniable pull to help. Her internal alarm bells were clanging, a full-blown symphony of "Stranger danger!" in her head.

The girl suddenly let out a strangled roar into her fists, and a string of truly colorful curses erupted from her lips, words Haewon hadn't even known existed outside of very specific internet forums.

Okay, maybe Haewon was definitely scared of the girl too. Just a little bit. Like, a healthy, self-preservation kind of scared.

"Leave, now. Run! Abort mission!" Haewon's brain screamed, a siren blaring at full volume.

Despite the internal panic, Haewon’s feet stayed stubbornly rooted to the cracked pavement. She let out a long, slow sigh, a surrender to some inexplicable force. Then, with a quick, almost involuntary turn of her heel, she found herself walking towards the girl. It was like her legs had a mind of their own, ignoring every single one of her brain's frantic warnings.

She crouched awkwardly, her knees protesting slightly, taking her guitar off of her back. She let Dionysus stand next to her, leaning its familiar weight against her body, a silent, comforting presence.

“Uh… Excuse me…” Haewon whispered, her voice feeling too loud and too soft all at once. Her hand hovered hesitantly over the girl’s shaking shoulder, not quite daring to make contact. It felt like approaching a wild, beautiful, and very upset animal.

The girl’s head snapped upwards with such unbelievable speed, Haewon felt a literal whiplash just from watching it. Her own neck muscles tensed in sympathy, or maybe just pure shock. It was like a spring-loaded jack-in-the-box, but instead of a clown, it was a very tear-streaked, very angry human.

“Oh, sorry,” the girl muttered, a small, almost polite smile suddenly plastered on her face. It was a smile that screamed, 'Nothing to see here, folks! Just a perfectly normal human not actively having an existential crisis on public property!' Haewon blinked. 

One second, she was a sobbing, cursing mess, the next, she was... composed? It was an impressive, if slightly terrifying, pivot.

Just then, the girl’s phone, which seemed to possess the auditory subtlety of a dying cat, began to shriek incessantly. She fished it out, groaning like it was the most offensive sound in the universe.

“I’m fine, Yoona. I swear,” she muttered into the phone, her voice still a little thick but surprisingly steady. Haewon found herself awkwardly crouching beside her, feeling less like a helpful stranger and more like a very confused garden gnome whose knees were definitely starting to complain.

“You have to go home at some point, Lily—” Haewon overheard from the tiny speaker, a familiar, exasperated tone. Ah, so that was the friend from earlier. Lily. Great name. Definitely suiting. 

Like a delicate flower, currently being trampled by a rogue rhinoceros of emotions, but still, a flower. Haewon mused.

After a while, Lily ended the call. She shoved the poor phone in the pocket of her oversized leather jacket and tried to stop herself from sniffling so much. As if remembering where she was or what she was doing, Lily turned towards Haewon.

“Right. Uh… Sorry about that. Again.” Lily’s eyes, still a little red-rimmed, darted around, avoiding Haewon’s gaze before finally settling on her face. It was an awkward apology, maybe something borne out of politeness rather than an actual, heartfelt admission of public meltdown. “You were… the one who was singing earlier, right?” She squinted, as if trying to piece together a blurry memory.

Haewon merely blinked, her brain still trying to catch up to the sheer whiplash of Lily's emotional rollercoaster. She offered a slow, bewildered nod.

“Great voice, by the way. It was…” Lily paused, searching for the right words, then gestured wildly with one hand next to her temples, as if trying to physically illustrate the concept. “Phew, mind blowing.” She even let out a dramatic, slightly slurred sigh for emphasis.

“Thanks…” Haewon murmured, a little confused, a little amused, at the entire situation that was unfolding before her. Was this a performance review? A cry for help? Both? Her brain whirred, trying to categorize the interaction.

“I’m Lily…” Lily announced, holding out a hand that, upon closer inspection, was still suspiciously damp from tears and possibly a lingering bit of snot.

Haewon looked at it briefly, her gaze flickering between the offered hand and Lily’s flushed, tear-streaked face. Lily seemed to catch on, groaning dramatically before she quickly, almost frantically, wiped her tear-stained hand on her jeans. The denim probably absorbed more of the alcohol than the tears, Haewon thought.

“Sorry… Here, I cleaned it up for you.” Lily offered the hand again, a hopeful, slightly desperate look in her eyes.

Haewon, suppressing a small smile, took Lily’s still-damp hand and shook it gently. “Haewon.”

“No, my name’s Lily.” Lily tilted her head, her brow furrowing in confusion, her eyes widening slightly as if Haewon had just spoken in ancient greek. Then, as if a very slow, very dim lightbulb finally clicked on inside her head, she lightly hit her forehead with a small, soft “Oh.”

“Your name’s Haewon. Got it. Sorry, head's a bit of a mess.” Lily slurred the words out a little, her eyes glazing over momentarily, confirming Haewon’s suspicions about the soju.

Haewon stared at Lily briefly, her brain still buffering, trying to process the sheer audacity of this girl's emotional whiplash. She managed a small, weak nod. “I can tell…” she mumbled, the words barely audible, a testament to her own internal awkwardness.

Lily let out a short, almost manic laugh at Haewon’s muttered words, a sound that was a little too loud for the quiet street. “That obvious, huh?” She rubbed her hands together awkwardly, a frantic motion, as if trying to generate enough friction to ignite a small fire and ward off both the chill of the night and the lingering embarrassment. A thin plume of visible breath escaped her lips.

Haewon nodded once more, a slow, deliberate movement. Of course it was obvious. Lily was full on breaking down in public for everyone to see, practically performing a one-woman tragicomedy on the sidewalk. Haewon decided, wisely, not to say that out loud. Her internal filter, usually so reliable, was working overtime.

“I was just… checking in on you…” Haewon said instead, the words feeling clunky and forced, like she was reading from a script she hadn't rehearsed. The air around them suddenly felt thick, heavy with unspoken emotions and the lingering scent of soju. “I should head home. Do you, uh, have someone to be with? Someone to help you home?” She tried to sound casual, but her voice probably came out sounding like a worried robot.

“No, I’m fine. Thanks for the concern, Haewon.” Lily’s voice was a little too sweet, a sugary coating over a very bitter pill. “I didn’t drink much, swear. I was just… well, you know.” She gestured awkwardly at herself, a vague sweep of her hand that encompassed her tear-streaked face, her disheveled hair, and the general aura of 'recently-had-a-meltdown-on-the-pavement.'

The lone street light above them flickered, casting a dramatic, noir-film-esque shadow over their bizarre encounter. Haewon stood up, her knees protesting with a soft pop , and awkwardly shifted her weight between her feet, a silent debate raging in her head. She was hesitating, a battle between her desire for self-preservation and the nagging feeling that leaving this poor, dramatic girl alone would be a cardinal sin against humanity. It just felt wrong .

Then, with startling, almost theatrical clarity, Lily’s stomach grumbled—a loud, indignant protest that sounded less like a gentle rumble and more like a hungry monster trapped within her abdomen. It was a sound that could probably be heard two blocks away. Lily clapped her hands over her stomach instantly, her face flushing a deeper shade of red than before.

“Sorry about that.” The tips of Lily’s ears were now glowing a vibrant, embarrassed cherry red. “Would you… perhaps want to grab tteokbokki with me?” She muttered shyly, the question barely a whisper, her gaze glued to the cracked pavement, avoiding Haewon at all costs. It was a desperate, impulsive plea, thrown out into the universe like a last-ditch effort to salvage the night.

Haewon paused, her feet awkwardly shuffling on the cracked pavement. On one hand, Haewon had a massive, soul-crushing project due early morning the next day – the kind that involved obscure historical texts and a bibliography longer than her arm. And Lily was a complete stranger, who, mind you, was just having a full-on, Oscar-worthy meltdown outside of Lockdown, complete with colorful language and dramatic hair-pulling. Every logical cell in Haewon's brain was screaming, 'Run, you fool! Run like the wind!'

On the other hand, as she glanced slightly at Lily’s hopeful expression, a look so earnest and vulnerable it could probably melt glaciers, Haewon found herself inexplicably inclined to say yes. It was like her brain had momentarily short-circuited, overridden by some unknown, chaotic impulse. A tiny, mischievous voice in her head whispered, 'What's the worst that could happen? More dramatic crying? More questionable life choices? Sounds like prime people-watching material!'

So, against all better judgment, against the looming deadline and the siren song of her comfortable bed, she said yes.

“Sure.”

It was just a single word, a quiet exhale, yet Lily felt relief wash over her with such potent force that Lily could only mutter a small “Thank God,” under her breath, her shoulders slumping as if a hundred-pound weight had just been lifted. The air around them seemed to lighten, the tension easing like a deflating balloon.

So here they are, standing in front of a tteokbokki stall in the bustling night market. The air, now a vibrant tapestry of sizzling oil, sweet chili, and the murmur of a thousand conversations, felt alive. The lady who was expertly making batches and batches of the spicy Korean rice snack was older and shorter than them, her movements a blur of practiced efficiency, her hands moving with reliable speed. Steam billowed from the giant pots, carrying the delicious, fiery scent.

Lily looked better already, Haewon noted, her gaze subtly sweeping over the girl. She no longer looked like she got run over by a train and then possibly attacked by a flock of angry pigeons. In the warm, inviting glow of the small stall's single overhead bulb, Lily looked pretty…

Cute.

The word flashes in Haewon’s head like a traitor, a small, unwelcome spark of warmth. Haewon tries to shake herself out of the thoughts, mentally swatting the idea away like a persistent fly. Focus, Haewon. Tteokbokki. Not cute girls having public meltdowns.

“You know, I’ve never been to the night market before.” Lily starts the conversation, her voice a little brighter now, a stark contrast to her earlier wails. Her hand reached out, taking the steaming paper cup filled with tteokbokki from the nice lady who made it. She then, with a surprising amount of grace, handed the other one to Haewon.

Haewon took it gratefully, the warmth seeping through the paper cup. She grabbed two plastic sticks, one for her and one for Lily, breaking them apart with a satisfying snap .

“Really?” Haewon found herself asking, genuinely surprised. She poked one sticky rice log, a vibrant orange from the sauce, and blew on it gently to cool it down, a small cloud of steam rising.

“Really.” Lily said, a mischievous glint in her eyes, before she popped the hot food into her mouth with reckless abandon. She immediately did an awkward, sputtering blowing motion, her cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk, finally realizing that she should have cooled it down first before eating it. She choked a little, tapping her chest with a frantic hand, her eyes watering. Haewon, despite herself, reached out for her in a concerned, almost automatic way. “Sorry, I mean–it’s nice.” Lily continued, her voice a little strained, as if she wasn’t just being assaulted by the fiery heat of the spicy snack.

Haewon looked at her, bewildered, a small, incredulous smile tugging at the corner of her lips. This girl was truly something else. She then quickly asked the lady behind the stall if they sold water too, her voice laced with a hint of urgency. The lady, with a knowing chuckle, only gave Haewon another paper cup filled to the brim with ice-cold water, clearly used to such culinary mishaps. Haewon took it, a silent thank you in her eyes.

“Here…” Haewon muttered, pushing the cup of the ice cold water into Lily’s still-trembling hand, trying to keep a straight face.

Lily takes the cup of water and takes a small, slow sip—savoring the sudden, glorious chill that spreads across her tongue, a welcome relief from the fiery tteokbokki. “Thanks.” The word was a soft exhale of gratitude.

Lily looks around, her gaze sweeping over the bustling, vibrant scene of the night market. It was probably around eleven at night, she estimated, but the crowd around them looked like their night was just getting started. 

The air thumped with a thousand tiny narratives: the sizzle of street food, the distant, gentle music from a nearby stall, the excited chatter of friends, the low murmur of vendors hawking their wares. 

Neon signs glowed in a kaleidoscope of colors, painting the faces of passersby in fleeting shades of red and blue. The scent of grilled meat mixed with sweet pastries, creating a delicious, confusing olfactory symphony.

“There’s more people than I thought there would be,” Lily hums to herself, almost as if she was just talking to the universe about this surprising fact, her voice a soft murmur. Haewon looks around too, her eyes taking in the lively scene, before she lets out a small, amused laugh, a soft, pleasant sound.

“Yeah, well, it is the night market,” Haewon responds, a playful edge in her voice, popping another perfectly cooled tteokbokki into her mouth. “I think it’s supposed to cater to tourists and night owls. It’s pretty much a never-ending party out here, even on a Thursday.” She gestured vaguely with her tteokbokki stick. “I’ve been here a few times with friends; thrifting here is the best.”

“Oh yeah? People sell clothes here too?” Lily perks up, her eyes, despite their lingering redness, looking a tad brighter now, sparking with genuine interest. Her head tilted slightly, a curious bird. “What else do they sell? Like, actual cool stuff, or just… tourist traps?”

“Bootleg movies, rare vinyl records, sneakers, weird souvenirs you never knew you needed, knock-off designer bags, ancient-looking trinkets… The list goes on. You name it, it’s likely here somewhere,” Haewon says, tilting her head as if to think about it more, her gaze distant as she mentally scrolled through the market's endless inventory. “I guess you just need to be the patient type to actually find the hidden treasures amongst the sea of duds. It’s like a real-life scavenger hunt, but with more questionable hygiene.”

“That makes sense.” Lily nods, a thoughtful expression on her face, already picturing herself sifting through piles of forgotten gems.

A few minutes passed, and both of their cups of tteokbokki were empty, scraped clean of every last drop of spicy sauce. Haewon takes Lily’s cup wordlessly, her movements efficient, and tosses it in a nearby overflowing trash bin with a soft thunk .

Lily’s eyes were still wandering around, as if she wanted to take a closer look at what the other stalls offered, her curiosity clearly piqued. She looked at Haewon and gave her a small, pleading glance, a silent question hanging in the air. Haewon shook her head, but a grin was plastered on her lips, betraying her mock refusal.

“Where to next, stranger?” Haewon says, standing next to Lily, stuffing her hands casually in the pocket of her gray hoodie, a silent invitation to continue their impromptu adventure.

“I was wondering if we could find one of those clothing stalls nearby.” Lily muses to herself, but there was a distinct, almost giddy bounce in her step now. Her previous slump had completely vanished, replaced by an infectious, restless energy. She practically skipped forward, her head swiveling from left to right like a curious owl, her eyes peeled open wide, scanning every vibrant, chaotic stall for the promise of fabric and forgotten treasures.

“Yeah, there’s one a few stalls ahead,” Haewon confirms, pointing with a hand that instantly recoils. The cold air of the night bit sharply at her skin, a sudden, unwelcome nip that made her fingers tingle before she shoved it back into the cozy warmth of her hoodie pocket.

As if by instinct, or perhaps just pure, unadulterated excitement, Lily immediately sprinted ahead to the stall, a blur of motion. She practically vibrated with enthusiasm, gesturing wildly for Haewon to come closer, already pointing out the most gloriously silly frog bucket hats that were dangling from a makeshift clothesline, bobbing gently in the night breeze. They were a riot of neon green and shocking pink, some with googly eyes, others with tiny, stitched-on smiles.

“Look! I need it!” Lily grins, a wide, uninhibited smile that stretched from ear to ear, her eyes sparkling with genuine delight. Without a moment’s hesitation (after a quick, polite nod to the seller, who just blinked at her enthusiasm), she snatched one of the hats off its display hook. It was a vibrant green frog, its fabric a little fuzzy, and she immediately plopped it over her head, pulling it down low over her bob. It looked utterly ridiculous, but Lily wore it with the confidence of a runway model. “This one has crosses for eyes! Is it dead? Like, officially deceased?”

Haewon just shook her head, a soft, amused laugh bubbling up from her chest. The corners of her eyes crinkled with genuine mirth, a silent acknowledgment of Lily’s utterly charming absurdity. This girl was a walking, talking cartoon, and Haewon found herself surprisingly entertained.

Haewon picks up another frog bucket hat, this one a startling shade of crimson. It had the same slightly unsettling cross eyes as Lily's, but something about the red made it feel… more menacing. “Isn’t this, like, the poisonous one?” she mused aloud, half-joking, half-genuinely wondering if she was about to accidentally don a hat that would turn her into a toxic swamp creature.

Lily, with a dramatic flourish that was quickly becoming her signature move, snatched the red hat from Haewon’s hands. Her fingers brushed Haewon's, a fleeting warmth that Haewon barely registered amidst the sheer, unadulterated chaos of Lily’s presence. 

With a mischievous glint in her still-slightly-red eyes, Lily then, with surprising precision, plopped it over Haewon’s head. It settled perfectly over Haewon’s dark hair, the brim dipping just above her eyebrows. “Poisonous? Venomous? Not sure,” Lily hummed, tilting her head to the side as if critically assessing a piece of modern art. She then nodded to herself, a slow, deliberate motion, as if she had just approved a major architectural design. “But this one has pointed, angry eyes. I think it suits you.”

“What does that mean?” Haewon scoffed, her voice laced with mock disbelief, a playful challenge. Her hands instinctively went up to the hat, adjusting it, feeling the fuzzy fabric against her scalp. She could practically feel the angry eyes glaring out at the world from her forehead. 

Lily only laughed – a bright, sweet sound that was surprisingly clear amidst the market's din, a melody that tickled Haewon’s ears more than she’d like to admit, sending a weird, pleasant shiver down her spine. It was a laugh that made the ridiculousness of the situation feel… less ridiculous, and more like a perfectly normal, Thursday-night adventure.

Before Haewon could fully process the fact that she was now wearing a ridiculous red frog hat that supposedly embodied her inner anger, Lily, with a sudden, decisive motion, took out her wallet. 

It was a slim, well-worn thing, and she quickly paid the man who sold the hats, a transaction that happened so fast Haewon barely saw the money change hands. Then, with a burst of surprising strength, Lily grabbed Haewon by the arm – her grip firm, almost possessive – and began to drag her forward through the bustling crowd. Both of them were now sporting gloriously silly, definitely not stylish, frog hats perched proudly over their heads, a beacon of absurdity in the night.

“Wait, Lily–” Haewon protested, her voice a little breathless, as if still reeling from the fact that Lily, this absolute stranger she’d met approximately forty minutes ago, had just bought them matching hats. It was a level of spontaneous intimacy that Haewon's carefully constructed world rarely encountered.

Lily. A stranger. Getting matching hats with Haewon. A fellow stranger. This night was proving to be more amusing, and certainly more unpredictable, than Haewon had initially thought. Her internal monologue was a chaotic mix of 'What is even happening?' and 'This is surprisingly fun.'

“It’s fine! I was the one who wanted it,” Lily chirped, looking ahead, her eyes still sparkling with that infectious, restless energy. Her hand was still grasping Haewon’s arm, a surprisingly comforting weight, like it was a lifeline, or maybe just a convenient anchor in the swirling sea of people. “Besides,” she added, turning her head slightly to flash Haewon another wide grin, “It suits you, in a funny, adorable kind of way.”

“Adorable?” Haewon parroted, the word catching in her throat like a rogue tteokbokki piece. Her cheeks, already a little flushed from the cold night air and the unexpected sprint, tinged with a deeper, undeniable pink that she tried desperately to suppress. Adorable? Me? In a frog hat? Her brain short-circuited again, the thought a delightful, confusing mess.

They finally stopped in front of another stall, but this one sold keychains. The stall itself was a glittering cascade of tiny treasures, a dizzying array of charms dangling from every conceivable hook and string. Little plush animals, miniature versions of famous landmarks, tiny food replicas—it was a chaotic, charming mess. 

Lily’s eyes, still wide with a childlike wonder that belied her earlier dramatic breakdown, instantly caught a glimpse of a sleek, metallic guitar-shaped keychain, nestled right next to a shiny, equally tiny microphone-shaped keychain. They looked like they belonged together, a tiny, harmonious duo.

“Oh, hey! This one’s nice.” She said, already reaching out, her fingers nimble as she plucked the two keychains from their tangled display. They glinted under the dim, warm glow of the stall's single bare bulb. “You know, I’m a music major, so this one speaks to me.” She held the miniature guitar and microphone keychains up next to her cheeks, pressing the cool metal gently against her skin, as if trying to absorb their musical essence. Her head tilted, a playful, self-aware smirk tugging at her lips. “Does it give off ‘me’ vibes? Like, 'future rockstar' vibes?”

“Wait, you’re a music major?” Haewon found herself asking, her own thoughts momentarily derailed from the absurdity of the frog hats and the sudden, intense focus on keychains. Her eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise, a small, involuntary twitch of her facial muscles. She hadn't expected that. “What university?”

“Yours,” Lily said, her voice dropping a notch, almost conspiratorial, as she leaned in slightly and tapped the university pin that was discreetly clipped onto Haewon’s guitar case. The small, familiar emblem suddenly felt like a secret handshake. “That’s why I really appreciated your music and singing earlier. It was cool. Like, ‘I think I just stepped into paradise and the angels are singing to me’ type of cool.” Lily nodded to herself, a slow, satisfied bob of her head, clearly proud of her dramatic, yet heartfelt, compliment.

“Mine?” Haewon repeated, the word a bewildered whisper. Her brain was doing mental gymnastics, trying to connect the dots. Same university? Same major? How had she never seen this walking, talking, crying, enigma before? “Wait, but what year are you in?” She asked, her voice tinged with a mixture of confusion and burgeoning curiosity, wondering why their paths had never crossed in the hallowed halls of their music department. After all, Haewon was a music major too, and their department wasn't that big.

“Ah, graduating.” Lily said coolly, a casual shrug accompanying the revelation, as if graduating from university was just another normal day. She inspected the keychains once more, turning them over in her fingers, seemingly unconcerned by Haewon’s mounting confusion. “I actually only have to finish, like, one last class that I failed in my second year. There’s that.” She finished with a wry, self-deprecating chuckle, a small, almost imperceptible shake of her head.

“Are you getting those, then?” Haewon asks her softly, her gaze lingering on the way the metallic keychains caught the dim light, reflecting tiny sparks onto Lily’s already sparkling eyes. She could see the wheels turning in Lily’s head, the internal debate, and a familiar pattern of impulsive decisions forming. “I feel like you’re the type to spend too much in places like these.”

“I’m seriously considering it, just to make me happy. One should always consider their own wellbeing amidst the drama of uni life, right?” Lily muses, turning the keychains over in her palm, her fingers tracing the tiny outlines of the instruments. Her voice was a little too earnest, a little too philosophical for a late-night keychain purchase, but Haewon found it strangely endearing.

Haewon watches her for a few seconds, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. Then, with a quiet sigh that was half-resignation, half-indulgence, she turned to the stall owner. 

Her hand, almost on autopilot, slips into her hoodie pocket, pulling out the crumpled bills she’d just earned from her gig. The transaction was swift, a silent exchange, and the keychains were now, officially, hers. Lily only gapes at her, her mouth hanging slightly open, still clutching the two keychains in her hands as if they were suddenly priceless artifacts. Her frog hat, with its dead cross eyes, seemed to blink in surprise.

“Consider it… uh, thanks. For the hat.” Haewon gestured awkwardly at the crimson frog hat perched precariously on top of her head, feeling its fuzzy weight. It was a ridiculous thing, but seeing Lily’s stunned, grateful face made it feel less like a fashion crime and more like a badge of honor.

“Oh, uh… Well… Thanks, too.” Lily murmurs, the tips of her ears turning a deeper, more vibrant shade of cherry red, a stark contrast to the green frog hat she was wearing. She reaches behind Haewon, her movements surprisingly gentle despite her earlier frantic energy, and awkwardly attaches the guitar keychain on Haewon’s guitar case, fumbling slightly with the clasp. The small, metallic guitar glinted against the worn fabric of the case. “This one’s for you.”

“Huh?” Haewon tilts her head, trying to twist her neck at an impossible angle to catch a glimpse of the newly attached keychain. She couldn’t quite see it, just felt the slight tug on her guitar strap. “I thought you wanted it?”

“Nah, I think the guitar one is more of your vibe rather than mine.” Lily grins, a wide, almost triumphant smile. “Mine’s the mic, obviously. I’m the voice of a generation, you know?” She puffed out her chest slightly, a playful, self-important gesture, before striking a dramatic pose with the tiny microphone keychain held aloft.

Lily then tilts her head, stretching her neck a little, a small yawn escaping her lips. She glances at the time on her phone, the screen glowing brightly in the dim market light. “Whoa, it’s already past midnight.” She muses to herself, a hint of genuine surprise in her voice, as if the hours had simply evaporated into the bustling night air.

Haewon looks at her own watch to confirm for herself, the digital numbers confirming Lily's revelation. 1AM already? Time really did fly when you were having an unexpected adventure with a dramatic stranger.

Lily shuffles around her feet awkwardly, the sound of her worn sneakers scuffing softly against the gritty pavement. A nervous energy seemed to hum around her, making her fidget. She looked like a puppy trying to decide if it was okay to ask for another treat. 

She bit her lip, her eyes darting between Haewon’s face and the tempting, dark expanse of the street ahead, wondering if she would be too selfish to ask Haewon to accompany her once more. The thought felt heavy, a little too vulnerable to voice directly.

But Haewon notices, because of course she does. Haewon only gives her a slight eyebrow raise, a silent question, and a fond smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes. “Feet aching?” she asks, her voice soft, almost a murmur, laced with a gentle understanding that surprised Lily.

“Kinda…” Lily murmurs back, a little bit shyly, her gaze dropping to the ground. She kicked at a loose pebble, sending it skittering across the pavement. “Is there a bench somewhere? I honestly… I don't want to go home yet.” The last part was a quiet confession, almost a plea, hanging delicate in the cool night air.

Haewon nods, a slow, thoughtful movement. She understands. After all, Lily was just crying on the curb a few hours ago, a dramatic, public display of heartbreak. Leaving her alone now still felt… wrong. 

It felt like abandoning a stray kitten, albeit a very loud, very expressive stray kitten. Without a word, Haewon turns, a silent invitation, and begins to lead Lily away from the lingering hum of the bustling night market, towards a park that she knew existed close by, a quieter, greener space.

A few minutes of comfortable silence stretches between them as they walk side by side, their frog-hat-clad heads bobbing slightly with each step. The sounds of the market slowly fade behind them, replaced by the softer rustle of leaves and the distant, muted hum of city traffic. 

The air grows cooler, carrying the faint, earthy scent of damp soil and night-blooming jasmine. The silence isn't awkward; it's a shared breath, a quiet understanding that doesn't need words.

They arrive at a relatively quiet, slightly dim, and slightly secluded park. The trees loom like dark, friendly sentinels, their branches swaying gently in the unseen breeze. 

Lily sits immediately on the first bench they see, illuminated by the solitary streetlight that towered just a few meters away, casting a soft, golden pool around them. The bench itself was old, weathered wood, cool against her palms.

“Thank God…” Lily sighs, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief, as she practically collapses onto the bench, stretching her legs out with a groan of contentment. “That’s enough walking for me tonight. My feet are officially staging a rebellion.”

“No thoughts of going home yet? Maybe your bed misses you. You’d definitely benefit from it, you know? A blanket, your pillow…” Haewon idly muses, her voice a soft, teasing murmur as she sits next to Lily, keeping a few comfortable inches of space between them. She glances at Lily curiously.

“Not really… I mean, I guess a part of me wants to… But my room’s a mess right now, and so am I.” Lily laughs, a self-deprecating tone to it, the sound a little brittle around the edges. Her gaze flickered to the dark expanse of the park around them, as if her messy room was a tangible, looming monster in the distance. “Feels like it would be a bad idea to drown in my own self-pity in my glum bedroom. My bed would probably absorb my tears and become a soggy, depressing swamp of regret.”

Haewon was curious now. Definitely. Her mind, usually so orderly, was buzzing with unanswered questions. What kind of mess? What happened? Why was she so upset? But she couldn’t bring herself to ask Lily for more details. It felt too intrusive, like poking a bruise. Still, it seemed like Lily was going to talk anyway, the words bubbling up, desperate to escape.

“About earlier…” Lily starts awkwardly, her voice dropping, almost a whisper, as her gaze unwavering on the shoelaces of her sneakers, tracing the intricate knots as if they held the secrets of the universe. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her leather jacket, a nervous habit. “I want to apologize for that again. I probably looked ugly bawling my eyes out outside of Lockdown, huh?”

Haewon shook her head, a slow, deliberate movement. “No, not really. You just looked…” Lily turns to face Haewon briefly, her eyes wide and expectant, and Haewon, caught off guard, immediately avoids her gaze, staring intently at a particularly interesting patch of grass. Her brain scrambled for a diplomatic, yet honest, answer. “Uh… Like a mess? A pretty, crashing out mess. Yeah. Let’s put it that way. Like a beautiful train wreck, but, you know, in a good way? If that makes sense. Which it probably doesn’t.” Haewon winced internally at her own verbal fumbling.

Lily stares at Haewon for a few beats longer, her expression unreadable, before she bursts out into laughter. 

It wasn't a delicate giggle; it was a full-bodied, slightly snorting, honest-to-goodness belly laugh that echoed a little too loudly in the quiet park. “Right. Sure. A beautiful train wreck . I’ll take it!” She wiped a tear of mirth from the corner of her eye, her shoulders shaking with suppressed amusement.

Haewon just shook her head again, a small, fond smile spreading across her face. She was already growing accustomed to Lily’s spontaneous personality, this whirlwind of emotions and unexpected humor. It was like trying to catch smoke with her bare hands – utterly chaotic, and surprisingly captivating.

“But yeah. To put it simply…” Lily’s laughter slowly faded into a lingering, almost wistful chuckle, a soft echo in the quiet night. Her gaze drifted back to her shoelaces, her fingers still restlessly worrying the hem of her jacket. “I guess you can just say I got spectacularly dumped by a guy I poured way too much into. Like, not just time, but my entire emotional energy, my earnestness, my… my very soul, practically. And now I’m not even sure if any of that was real.” Her voice was a low, uncertain murmur, a hint of lingering vulnerability.

Haewon’s gaze softened, a quiet, sympathetic understanding settling in her eyes. She shifted slightly on the bench, a subtle lean in Lily’s direction, a silent offer of comfort.

“Oh, and he said it was all casual,” Lily continued, a fresh wave of disbelief washing over her face, making her eyebrows furrow into a tight, indignant knot. Her nose scrunched up, as if she’d just smelled something truly foul. “Like, me baking his ten-year-old cousin a custom, superhero-themed cake, and then spending three hours learning the lore of The Legend of Zelda while we played his new video game was just… nothing . Just a Tuesday, apparently.” The sheer absurdity of it made her want to scream, or maybe just curl into a ball and disappear.

“That sucks,” Haewon said, a genuine, if slightly inadequate, response. She didn’t know what else to offer. Her mind, usually quick with a witty retort, felt oddly blank. Then, a mischievous glint sparked in her eyes, cutting through the heavy atmosphere. “I mean, was he good-looking at least? Like, was there any redeeming quality to this… guy?”

Lily’s eyes rolled so far back into her head, Haewon was genuinely concerned they might get stuck. “No,” she deadpanned, the single word dripping with a profound, almost comical lack of enthusiasm. It was a flat, definitive dismissal, leaving no room for debate.

Haewon blinked, a slow, deliberate motion, trying to process the sheer, unadulterated truth of Lily’s answer. Her brain stuttered. All that drama, all that heartbreak, for someone who wasn't even easy on the eyes? A snort escaped her, quickly followed by a cascade of uncontrollable giggles. 

She clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to muffle the sounds, but her shoulders shook with the effort, her body a trembling mess of suppressed mirth. Lily, with a groan that was half-exasperation, half-amusement, playfully swatted Haewon’s arm, a soft, ineffective blow against her shaking frame.

“Sorry, sorry—I was… I just… I expected him to look like a Greek god or something, with how you were crying earlier!” Haewon managed to gasp out between gasps of laughter, tears actually pricking at the corners of her own eyes now. The image of Lily’s earlier, dramatic breakdown, juxtaposed with the revelation of the ex-ghost’s utter mediocrity, was just too much.

“He’s nice!” Lily defended him, a faint blush creeping up her neck, but even she couldn’t stop the fresh wave of laughter that was bubbling up from her chest, a warm, infectious sound that joined Haewon’s own. The absurdity of it all was finally hitting her too, and the shared laughter felt like a release, a small, much-needed balm on her still-aching heart.

Then Haewon’s laughter slowly subsided, leaving a pleasant hum in her chest. Through the lingering shimmer of her own amusement, she looked at Lily, really looked at her. 

This version of Lily, with her eyes crinkling into genuine crescents of joy and her laughter bubbling up like a freshly opened soda, was a stark, delightful contrast to the snot-nosed, cursing mess she'd found on the curb. This Lily was undeniably, charmingly, endearingly … well, cute .

Haewon shoved that thought away.

A soft, companionable quiet settled between them, a pleasant hum in the background of the still-bustling market. The last echoes of their shared laughter faded into the night air, leaving a warmth that wasn't just from the tteokbokki they shared earlier. 

Haewon, almost unconsciously, began to hum a soft, meandering tune, a melody that felt as light and easy as the moment itself.

Lily, who had been watching Haewon with an almost scientific curiosity, finally broke the comfortable quiet. Her voice was a soft murmur, barely audible above the distant city sounds, carried on a stray gust of cold night wind. 

She leaned in slightly, her frog hat tilting adorably. “So, I’m guessing… you’ve got a boyfriend? Or, like, a girlfriend? Or… just a significant other? Someone who gets to enjoy your… well, you?” A playful, hopeful glint flickered in her eyes.

Haewon, caught off guard by the sudden personal question, blinked. She straightened her red frog hat, a small, awkward gesture. “Nope. Single,” she answered, the words coming out a little too quickly, a little too matter-of-factly. She added, almost as an afterthought, a dry, self-deprecating chuckle escaping her lips, “Been single since the day I was born, actually. It’s a talent.”

Lily’s eyes widened, a genuine, almost theatrical shock spreading across her face. She practically unfurled from her slumped position, twisting her upper body to face Haewon fully, her green frog hat bobbing with the sudden movement. 

“But… how?” she gasped, the word a tiny, incredulous squeak. Her hand flapped vaguely in Haewon’s direction, a universal gesture for 'you exist, and you are objectively appealing.' “You’re… you’re really attractive! Like, seriously. And you’re actually nice to be with! Not like some people who just… ghost .” The last word was a pointed, dramatic whisper, clearly aimed at the universe.

A faint, traitorous heat bloomed on Haewon’s cheeks, spreading like wildfire despite her best efforts to extinguish it. 

She instinctively looked away, her gaze snagging on a particularly interesting crack in the pavement, and coughed, a small, entirely unconvincing sound. “Yeah, uh, no one ever really confessed?” she mumbled, the words feeling like tiny, awkward pebbles in her mouth. She shrugged, a slight, self-conscious movement. “Or, more accurately, I never really confessed to anyone either. So, you know. Two sides of the same perpetually single coin.” She finished with a wry, almost resigned smile, a silent acknowledgment of her own romantic ineptitude.

“Wow… That’s insane…” Lily whispered, her voice laced with a genuine, almost reverent awe, her eyes wide as saucers. “I mean, like insane in a good way? If you know what I mean.” She shook her head slowly, a small, disbelieving smile playing on her lips.

Haewon felt her blush deepen, a warm tide creeping up her neck and across her cheeks, but she didn’t say a word, just cleared her throat, a small, awkward sound. A question, a persistent little itch, had been nagging at her thoughts for a while now, and she finally gave in. “And you’re… straight?” she asked, the words a little stiff, a quiet probe into the unknown.

She already felt a small, defiant crush forming on Lily, a tiny bud of interest unfurling in her chest. Might as well quash it immediately, right? Nip it in the bud before it could blossom into something inconveniently delightful?

“Oh! I… uh, no. Not really.” A nervous, slightly breathless laugh bubbled up from Lily, a sound she used to cover her embarrassment. Her head tilted, a playful confusion clouding her features. “I swing both ways. Or like, all ways?” She paused, considering the nuances of her own romantic compass. “But no, definitely not straight.”

“I see.” Haewon nodded to herself, a slow, internal sigh escaping her. So much for quelling the crush, huh? The bud had just received a generous watering.

“I think I just… like people who could make me feel appreciated.” Lily continued, a soft, contented hum escaping her lips, a quiet melody in the night. Haewon stole a glance, noting the tip of Lily’s nose turning a delicate shade of pink, probably from the cold night air.

“That makes sense.” Haewon said instead, her voice a little softer than before. She subtly shifted closer on the bench, drawn by an unspoken urge to share her warmth with the girl, whose slight shiver was now more noticeable.

“It does, doesn’t it? That’s why it’s so frustrating to have to deal with… well, you know.” Lily offered a small, resigned shrug, a quick, almost imperceptible movement of her shoulders. “But there’s something good that came out of that ghost.”

“Yeah?” Haewon asked, her eyes scanning the inky urban sky, searching for a glimmer of stars that rarely pierced the city’s light pollution. “What is it?”

“You.” Lily leaned into Haewon, a soft, unexpected nudge, her shoulder brushing against Haewon’s, a warmth spreading through the thin fabric of her hoodie.

Haewon was silent for a few seconds, the implication settling like a warm, heavy stone in her mind. Her cheeks, already cool from the night air, felt a sudden, traitorous flush, but she tried desperately to keep her expression neutral, to not look like an absolute tomato at Lily’s casual, yet potent, statement.

Still, her body, a notoriously unreliable ally in moments of high awkwardness, promptly betrayed her.

“Me?” Haewon muttered out, the word a tiny, disbelieving squeak. Her voice sounded thin, almost reedy, a stark contrast to the confident hum she usually carried. “What makes you say that?”

Lily’s laughter, a light, tinkling sound, filled the quiet space between them. Her body swayed gently, a comfortable rhythm, occasionally nudging Haewon’s arm with a playful elbow. “Well, you seem like the type to quietly take care of someone. You didn’t really have to join me tonight, you know? I’m quite aware that we literally don’t know each other.” She paused, her smile softening, a genuine warmth in her eyes. “Even so, you’re here with me. I think I enjoy your company.”

Haewon’s mind scrambled for a coherent reply, but all that emerged was a pathetic, strangled “Ah.” The silence stretched, thick with her own internal cringe, but Lily, bless her chaotic heart, was always good at filling the void.

“A part of me feels like… well, like this is how I should be treated.” The words drifted out, soft and almost private, as if she were untangling a thought just for herself. Lily’s gaze was distant, fixed on some unseen point in the dark park, her fingers still restlessly worrying the hem of her jacket. “These past few hours with you felt… nice. Easy. Like I’ve known you for a while.”

Haewon shook her head, a quick, dismissive gesture. “You’re thinking of me too highly. I’m sure if another person helped you out instead of me, you’re going to feel the same way as you do right now.”

Lily shook her head, a small, firm movement that sent her green frog hat wobbling. “No. I think this night feels warm and nice instead of miserable and depressing specifically because of you, Haewon.”

Haewon's chest tightened, a strange hum beneath her ribs. Her gaze fought to stay away from Lily, but a magnetic pull tugged her eyes back. Lily seemed… softer. A quiet, thoughtful air hung around her, as if new insights were gently unfurling.

“If it counts for anything, I like your company too, Lily.” Haewon muttered Lily’s name, a soft, almost reverent sound. Lily offered only a small, knowing smile.

“That’s good. I was worried that I was being a bit too much for you.”

“Not at all. It’s… surprising, and new, but it’s nice. In a fun, impulsive type of way.” Haewon shook her head, a small, disbelieving smile playing on her lips. “And you’re… interesting. And genuinely nice. Makes me wonder how your ghost guy managed to mess up this bad. If I were him–”

Haewon's words froze, a sudden, sharp halt. Too much. Way too much, way too fast. The late hour, the strange mood, it was loosening her tongue more than she wanted.

But Lily had caught on, a spark of pure mischief dancing in her eyes, and a small, teasing smile played on her lips. “Go on, Haewon. If you were him…? You’d… what?”

“I’d… I’d…” Haewon stammered out a pathetic, strangled sound, her gaze skittering wildly across the dim park, landing anywhere but on Lily’s rather endearing, expectant smile. Her cheeks, already warm, seemed to ignite. “I’d just… You know. Treat you better, that’s all.”

“How?” Lily pressed on, a soft chuckle rumbling in her chest, clearly relishing Haewon’s fluster.

“Just… I don’t know,” Haewon murmured, her voice a little softer now, as if thinking aloud. “I’d spend time with you, I guess. Genuinely make an effort to learn the things you like, maybe listen to your rants about anything that’s frustrating you… I think I’d just be… there. Physically, mentally. Does that make sense?” The last words were a hesitant question, a quiet offering.

Lily’s eyebrows arched slightly, a silent, encouraging lift, her gaze steady, urging Haewon to continue.

“Sorry. I don’t know. Again, I’ve never dated anyone before, so I could be wrong…” Haewon backtracked a little, her voice tight with embarrassment, a faint flush creeping up her neck. “But if… if you were my partner, let’s say, I’d definitely slap a label on it and brag about you. I’d be your personal hype man.” The last sentence came out with a surprising burst of conviction, almost a challenge.

Lily’s laughter, a bright, sweet sound, bubbled up, making Haewon feel like her teeth might actually rot from the sheer sugar of it. “That’d be nice,” she said, her green frog hat swaying wildly as her body shook with unrestrained giggles. “I think you’d be a great lover, Haewon. Someday, maybe.”

“Huh?” Haewon could only splutter out, her brain momentarily short-circuiting at the unexpected compliment.

“Oh, not necessarily to me, I mean.” Lily quickly shook her hands around, a frantic, almost comical gesture, a fresh blush blooming across her cheeks and painting her ears a vivid red. “I mean, well, it’s not like I don’t like you or something, but I just meant it generally–like if you, uh, had a lover someday or something like that.” Her voice trailed off, a little breathless.

“Right.” Haewon nodded, the warmth still lingering on her cheeks, a quiet echo of her embarrassment.

“Yeah.” Lily muttered too, feeling the warmth of her cheeks and ears spread a little too much, a pleasant, internal wildfire.

They stayed silent for a few seconds, the quiet stretching comfortably between them. Both girls tried to calm the rapid beating of their hearts, the lingering echoes of unexpected compliments and almost-confessions. Lily was definitely sober now, the alcohol having worn off, leaving behind a clear-headed awareness, and Haewon was definitely overthinking things, her mind a whirlwind of new, delightful possibilities.

Lily’s phone buzzed a little, a soft vibration against her thigh, and they both caught a glimpse of the time. The digital clock read 3 AM, its glowing numbers a stark reminder of the hours that had simply evaporated into the cool night. They’d been talking for what felt like minutes, but was actually hours.

It seemed Yoona was texting Lily again, a persistent, concerned digital presence.

“Sorry, give me a sec.” Lily flashed Haewon an apologetic smile, her cheeks still tinged with pink, a subtle, charming flush. Haewon only nodded softly, a quiet understanding in her eyes, letting Lily reply back to her friend.

A small, genuine laugh escaped Lily’s lips, a light, airy sound, and her thumbs tapped away a quick response, a flurry of motion on the small screen.

“That was just… a friend. Yoona. She’s asking if I’m home yet or if I’m still hovering around bars getting drunk.” Lily explained, her voice a soft, amused murmur. She scratched her cheek softly with her index finger, a shy smile on her lips, a hint of lingering embarrassment.

“Well, what did you say?” Haewon asked, tilting her head slightly, a spark of playful curiosity in her gaze. Her crimson red frog bucket hat almost slipped off her head with the movement, so she reached up to readjust it, a quick, almost unconscious gesture.

“I told her I was with you. She kinda just went ‘The singer!?’ so… I found it funny.” Lily explained, her eyes crinkling at the corners with shared amusement. “But she’s not worried anymore since I’m not alone.”

“That’s… good.” Haewon hummed a little, a low, contented sound. “Still. It’s three AM. Don’t you have plans later? Like, classes or other commitments?” Haewon thought about her own project still waiting to be completed, a looming shadow in her mind, but she didn’t tell Lily, keeping her own responsibilities to herself.

“I don’t, actually. I was supposed to go on a ‘date’ with him later but, well, you know.” Lily furrowed her eyebrows, a brief shadow passing over her face as she remembered the "ghost." “Obviously, that’s out of the question now.”

They stayed silent for a bit, the quiet broken only by the distant hum of the city and the rustle of leaves. Then Lily’s eyes widened, a sudden, almost comical realization dawning on her.

“Oh my god, Haewon, do you have somewhere to be later?” Lily’s voice was a little urgent and panicked, a sudden burst of concern. Haewon found herself biting back a smile, amused by Lily's sudden shift in focus.

So instead, she lies. Screw the project. Haewon always submitted her requirements in time, so just this once probably wouldn’t be so bad, right? The thought felt like a tiny, rebellious spark, a thrill of minor delinquency.

“No, I don’t. I’m free the entire day later.” Haewon grins, the lie feeling surprisingly easy, a smooth, practiced curve of her lips. “I’ll probably spend some time in a cafe, get my usual caffeine fix, and then write a few lyrics or something.” The words tumbled out, a casual, almost convincing improvisation.

“Really?” Lily searches Haewon’s eyes, her gaze sharp and insistent, trying to pierce through any facade, to check if she was telling the truth. Her brow furrowed slightly, a hint of suspicion in her expression. “Because you can go home if you need to, I swear I’ll be fine.” Her voice held a genuine concern, a soft, insistent murmur.

Haewon smiles, a wide, easy grin that makes her eyes disappear for a bit, crinkling at the corners. She nudges Lily with her shoulder, a gentle, playful bump, mimicking Lily’s actions a few minutes ago. The contact felt warm, a comfortable weight. “No, I like this. Spending time with you. Who knew a stranger like yourself could be this endearing, right?” The words were light, teasing, yet held a genuine ring of truth.

“Pfft, endearing…” Lily shakes her head, a small, amused smile on her lips, a soft, almost imperceptible shake of her green frog hat. “That’s one way to put it.”

“It’s true. Consider me completely enamored by your presence.” Haewon wasn’t sure what’s gotten into her, but there was something bold in her actions tonight, a reckless, thrilling surge of honesty. The words felt like they were pulled from somewhere deep inside her, a surprising confession she hadn't planned.

Lily was at a loss for words, for once. Red tinged her cheeks and her ears once more, the color spreading like a warm, delightful blush that refused to fade. She nudged Haewon back with her shoulder, a gentle, almost shy bump. “Shut up…” It was more like a defiant murmur than an actual command, the sound a soft, breathy whisper, but the words, paired with Lily’s adorably awkward blush, spoke volumes.

Haewon bit back a laugh, the sound a pleasant rumble in her chest. Her eyes, still crinkling with amusement, met Lily’s for a fleeting moment. “I’m serious. I’m kind of wondering what could have happened if I met you earlier, or under different circumstances.” The words were soft, a quiet invitation to a hypothetical past.

“Like… What type of circumstances?” Lily asked, her voice a little softer now, a curious hum beneath the question. Her gaze was now back on her shoelaces, still embarrassed from Haewon’s words, tracing the worn fabric with an almost obsessive focus, as if the answers were hidden in the intricate knots.

“Like… if we were classmates in one of our classes, or maybe even roommates or something. Anything.” Haewon mused, humming under her breath, the sound was a low, thoughtful melody. She leaned back slightly on the bench, her gaze drifting upwards to the dark, starless sky, picturing different scenarios. “Would we have been friends, I wonder? Or maybe… well…”

She didn’t continue the thought. Again, she was going a bit too fast. The words hovered in the cool night air, unspoken, yet heavy with possibility. Lily was going through a weird break up, not really a break up thing right now, right? This wasn't the time for reckless confessions, no matter how much the late hour and shared vulnerability urged her on.

“Huh. That’s true.” Lily whispered, the pink on her cheeks and her ears looked like they didn’t want to leave, a stubborn, charming testament to Haewon’s unexpected honesty. A small, thoughtful smile played on Lily’s lips, a quiet acknowledgment of the intriguing 'what ifs' that hung in the air between them.

“What’s true?” Haewon asks, her voice a soft, curious probe, testing the still, quiet air between them.

“You know…” Lily begins, her voice a little shy, a subtle tremor in the sound. She gestures awkwardly between them with a small, almost imperceptible flick of her wrist, her gaze still fixed on the intricate patterns of her shoelaces. “I mean, I did say you’d be a great girlfriend… someday, maybe.” 

The repetition of her earlier words was adorably awkward, a faint echo of her previous fluster, and Haewon tried desperately not to blush too much, a battle she was clearly losing as a warm flush crept up her neck.

“Oh, like if we…” Haewon starts, her voice trailing off, unable to complete the phrase, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the cool night air. She glances at Lily helplessly, her eyes wide with a mix of anticipation and a touch of panic, searching for a lifeline.

“Yeah.” Lily says instead, her voice a soft, embarrassed exhale, her gaze still glued to her shoes. She finally lifts her head, her eyes meeting Haewon for a fleeting, intense moment, a raw vulnerability in their depths. “Maybe under different circumstances, the time I wasted on him could have been spent with you, you know? Like, actually spent, not just… existing near him.” Her voice was a low, almost wistful murmur, a quiet confession of regret and a burgeoning hope.

“Ah, well… Yeah. I guess.” Haewon murmurs, the words feeling inadequate, almost swallowed by the sudden intensity of Lily’s gaze. Her mind was racing with a million thoughts, a chaotic symphony of 'what ifs' and 'could be,' and she felt like her heart was going to burst right out of her chest, a frantic hummingbird trapped in her ribs.

“I think I would have been a headache to deal with, though.” Lily laughs, the sound a little self-deprecating, a soft, airy chuckle that barely disturbed the quiet night. She nudges Haewon playfully with her elbow, a gentle, familiar contact. “Like, I’d be the type to sulk if you don’t give me enough attention… Just kidding.” Her eyes, though, held a mischievous glint, a hint of truth behind the playful facade.

“That’s… cute.” Haewon found herself saying, the word slipping out before her internal filter could catch it. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, laced with a genuine tenderness that surprised even herself. “I think I’d try to woo you with snacks or like… knick knacks or a keychain… Just to get you to stop being mad at me.” She offered, picturing herself carefully selecting a tiny, perfect charm, a small offering of peace.

Lily laughs adorably, a bright, sweet sound that makes the air around them feel lighter, more vibrant. She shoves Haewon playfully again, a little harder this time, her body shaking with unrestrained mirth. “I think that’s bribery, isn’t it?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t let it get to that point, though.” Haewon murmurs honestly, her voice dropping to a low, earnest tone, her gaze steady on Lily’s laughing face. “You’d never feel like I wasn’t giving you enough attention, I think.” The words were a quiet promise, a gentle reassurance that hung in the cool night air, heavy with unspoken meaning.

“Oh? I’d hold you to that.” Lily scrunches her nose slightly, a playful challenge in her voice. A faint, delightful flush crept up her neck, painting her cheeks a soft, rosy pink that seemed to glow in the dim light. She tilted her head, her green frog hat wobbling precariously. “I mean, well… Sorry, that’s not what I mean…” She gestured vaguely with one hand, as if trying to physically push away the implication, her voice a little breathless, a little flustered.

“It’s fine,” Haewon shakes her head, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. Her heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs, a wild drum solo in her chest, but she tried to keep her voice steady, a calm anchor in the suddenly charged air. “I’m just being honest too.”

“Yeah? What else would you do if we were, well, you know.” Lily huffs her cheeks, a desperate attempt to wipe away the stubborn, delightful blush that refused to fade. Her eyes, still sparkling with a mix of curiosity and a hint of playful embarrassment, met Haewon’s.

“Like… If we were… A thing…” Haewon mutters the last words slowly, hesitantly, the phrase feeling both foreign and exhilarating on her tongue. Her gaze drifted, momentarily snagging on the distant, blurry outlines of the trees, then back to Lily’s expectant face. “I think you’d be the one who’d get annoyed at me. I’m a little clueless and dense, so you’d have to spell out everything for me. Like, literally draw me a diagram of your feelings.” A self-deprecating chuckle escaped her, a soft, airy sound.

“Ah, like, ‘Haewon, you’re supposed to give me a hug because I’m so tired but instead you went back to your dorms!’ type of thing?” Lily laughs, a bright, clear sound that cuts through the quiet of the park, picturing the hypothetical scenario with vivid, dramatic flair. She even mimed a dramatic, weary slump, her shoulders slumping exaggeratedly.

“Hey, aren’t you making me look bad?” Haewon jabs, a playful lilt in her voice, a mock-offended pout forming on her lips. She nudged Lily gently with her elbow, a soft, teasing contact. “It won’t be that bad, I swear. I’m just not… a romantic at heart. I’m more of a practical, 'let's-get-things-done' kind of person, you know?” She tried to sound convincing, but a faint, lingering blush betrayed her.

“No!” Lily whines, shaking her head, her hair swaying under her frog hat with the force of her denial. Her eyes were wide, filled with a dramatic, almost theatrical disbelief. “You’re totally a romantic! You just don’t know it yet!” She pointed a finger at Haewon, a playful accusation, her lips pursed in a mock-serious expression.

“I think I’m a bit too scared to find out if I am.” Haewon replies easily, but her voice quivers a little, a tiny, almost imperceptible tremor that belied her casual tone. A nervous flutter stirred in her stomach, a flock of anxious butterflies taking flight.

“We can find out, if you want.” Lily mutters, her voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper, the words a soft invitation hanging in the cool night air. Her eyes, still wide and sparkling with a mix of curiosity and a daring boldness, met Haewon’s. “I mean, again, like… I don’t mean it that way… But if, well… Sorry, don’t pay attention to me.” Lily’s words tripped over themselves, a clumsy, endearing rush, and she quickly covers her face with her hands, the sudden movement a comical attempt to hide her rapidly blooming blush. 

Her ears, Haewon noticed, were now a delightful, vibrant shade of cherry red.

Haewon laughs, a soft, warm sound that filled the quiet space between them. It wasn't a loud, boisterous laugh, but a gentle, almost tender chuckle. And as if she was testing the waters, dipping her toes into an unknown, exhilarating current, she pulls Lily a little closer to her, her hand gripping Lily’s arm gently, her fingers brushing against the soft fabric of Lily's jacket. 

The contact was light, a subtle invitation, yet it sent a jolt of unexpected warmth through Lily. “Find out… if what, I’m a romantic at heart? Or if I’d be romantic to you specifically?” Haewon’s voice was a low, teasing murmur, the question laced with a playful challenge.

“I…” Lily stammers out, her voice a breathless, almost inaudible squeak, her heart suddenly pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Haewon’s proximity, the subtle warmth radiating from her arm, felt a little too close for her heart, a delightful, overwhelming sensation. “I mean… Well, maybe a part of me is a little curious at what romantic Haewon could look like.” The words were a quiet confession, a hesitant peek into a burgeoning desire.

Haewon tilts her head to the side, a slow, deliberate movement, her gaze never leaving Lily’s flushed face. Then, with a fluid, almost theatrical motion, she takes off her own glaringly red frog hat. 

The sudden absence of the ridiculous headwear made the moment feel strangely significant, a small, intimate reveal. Lily looked a little confused, her brow furrowing slightly, her eyes wide and questioning.

“May I…?” Haewon asks tentatively, her voice a soft, almost reverent whisper, as she gently tilts Lily’s chin up with her fingers. Her thumb brushed lightly against Lily’s jawline, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver down Lily’s spine. Haewon prayed that it wasn’t cold to the touch, that her fingers weren't betraying her own nervous excitement.

“Huh?” Lily stammers out, her voice still breathless, her mind a delightful jumble of confusion and anticipation. “May you… what?” The question was a soft, almost imperceptible whisper, barely escaping her lips.

Haewon’s eyes, dark and sparkling in the dim light, held Lily’s gaze for a long, silent moment, a universe of unspoken possibilities flickering between them. 

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she uses the red frog hat to cover the sides of their faces, creating a small, intimate cocoon, as if shielding them from the nonexistent crowd, from the entire world. 

The fuzzy fabric brushed softly against Lily’s cheek, a warm, comforting barrier. Haewon leans her head a little closer to Lily, the subtle scent of her perfume, a faint, clean fragrance, filling Lily’s senses.

“You wanted to know what I’d look like as a romantic, right? Well, here’s your chance, Lily.” Haewon’s voice was a low, husky murmur, barely a breath against Lily’s ear, sending a shiver of pure anticipation down Lily’s spine. 

The way Haewon spoke Lily’s name, drawing it out, making it sound like a secret, sent a thrill through Lily’s entire being, a delicious jolt of electricity. Lily found herself gulping her nerves down, a dry, almost painful swallow, her heart thrumming a frantic, excited beat against her ribs.

Lily’s common sense was screaming that she should say no, refuse, that she wasn’t going to let Haewon—a complete stranger (or was she still a stranger? Lily couldn’t tell, the lines blurring in the intoxicating haze of the moment) kiss Lily just a few hours after her weird break up with her ghost of a relationship. Every logical neuron in her brain fired off frantic warnings, a chaotic symphony of 'danger, danger!'

But, well, it was a ghost, a phantom limb of a relationship that had never truly existed. And Haewon here was real. So tangible, so undeniably present, her warmth radiating even through the fabric of her hoodie. So beautiful, too, even under the harsh, flickering yellow glow of the solitary streetlight, her features softened by the dimness, her eyes sparkling with an almost dangerous invitation.

So, without thinking about it too much, without allowing a single logical thought to fully form, Lily gives Haewon a small, mute nod. It was a silent surrender, a whispered 'yes' to the chaotic, exhilarating pull she felt.

Haewon nods too, a slow, deliberate confirmation, as if sealing a silent pact. Her fingers, still gently cradling Lily’s chin, lightly traced the soft skin, a feather-light touch that sent goosebumps prickling down Lily’s arms. 

“Here goes nothing…” Haewon mutters to herself, the words barely audible, a soft breath of anticipation. Her eyes, dark and intense, trailed towards Lily’s lips, a silent question, a hesitant invitation. Then, with a slow, almost agonizing gentleness, she leans in, ever-so-softly, ever-so-gently.

Their lips meet, a tentative, almost shy connection. And for the first time in Haewon’s life, she feels fireworks explode within her. Not the cheesy, cartoon kind, but a deep, resonant burst of warmth and light that spread through her chest, making her breath catch. 

It was soft, gentle, maybe a little awkward with Haewon’s inexperience, a slight misalignment, a hesitant pressure, but she was determined to show Lily the “romantic” side Lily was so curious about. It was a silent promise, a tender offering in the quiet of the park.

They pull away a few moments afterwards, a little breathless from how exhilarating the kiss felt. A faint, lingering warmth bloomed on Lily's lips, a ghost of Haewon's touch, and her heart still fluttered a frantic rhythm against her ribs, a hummingbird trapped in a cage. 

Haewon, too, felt a warm lightness in her chest, a swarm of excited butterflies taking flight, their wings brushing against her ribs. The air between them, once charged with anticipation, now hummed with a soft, contented afterglow.

“I… well, I’d be like that, I think.” Haewon clears her throat awkwardly, the sound a little rough, a nervous habit. She pulls back slightly, creating a comfortable space between them, but her hand remains on Lily’s cheek, her thumb stroking the soft skin in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. The warmth of her touch lingered, a gentle anchor in the swirling aftermath of the kiss. “Does that satisfy you, Lily?” Her voice was a low, earnest murmur, a quiet question seeking reassurance.

“What…?” Lily mutters instead, her voice a breathy whisper, still a little dazed. The blush on her cheeks seemed to have settled into a permanent, rosy hue, painting her skin a vibrant, delightful pink. Her eyes, wide and luminous, were fixed on Haewon’s, a mixture of awe and lingering surprise in their depths. “I… That was… Wow.” The single word was drawn out, a soft exhale of pure, unadulterated wonder.

“Romantic enough for you?” Haewon asks again, her thumb still tracing Lily’s skin, a playful glint in her dark eyes. Her voice was a low, teasing murmur, yet an underlying earnestness softened the edges. “Or do you need more… examples?” The question hung in the air, a mischievous invitation.

“No, I don’t…” Lily murmurs, her lips forming a shy, adorable pout that made Haewon’s heart do a funny little flip. Her gaze dropped, avoiding Haewon’s intense stare, but a faint, knowing smile played on her lips. “That… doesn’t prove anything over how romantic you’d be, by the way.” Her voice was a soft, playful challenge, a hint of lingering mischief.

Haewon throws her head back in genuine laughter, a bright, uninhibited sound that echoed softly in the quiet park. Her shoulders shook with amusement, and a clear, joyful sound bubbled up from her chest, making the dim space feel a little brighter. 

She shakes her head, a silent acknowledgment of Lily’s playful stubbornness, and with a quick, fluid motion, she puts the glaringly red frog hat back on her head. It settled comfortably, a familiar, fuzzy weight, a playful crown on her dark hair.

“It does, though. It shows I wouldn’t be ashamed of kissing you in public, at least.” Haewon points out, her voice laced with a subtle triumph, a confident assertion that brooked no argument. Her eyes, still crinkling with amusement, held Lily’s gaze, a silent challenge.

“Hey, you covered our faces with your stupid hat. That doesn’t count.” Lily’s pout seemed to deepen, looking even cuter now, a delightful picture of feigned indignation. She crossed her arms over her chest, a playful barrier. “And this can’t even be considered public! There’s literally no one around us.” Her voice was a soft, exasperated whine, but the playful spark in her eyes betrayed her mock annoyance. 

The solitary streetlight above them cast long, dancing shadows, emphasizing the secluded nature of their impromptu rendezvous, making her point undeniably clear.

“First of all, you bought this hat, so don’t call it stupid.” Haewon retorts, a playful edge to her voice, her own lips curving into a wide, easy grin that finally revealed the charming indentations of her dimples. 

Lily’s breath hitched almost imperceptibly at the sight, a small, involuntary flutter in her chest. It was an incredibly charming and adorable detail, a sudden splash of unexpected sweetness, but Lily, ever the master of self-control, tried her best to pay no mind to it, focusing instead on the playful banter. 

“Second, I think I could pull it off even if it was broad daylight and this park was filled with people, a literal sea of onlookers.” Haewon continued, a newfound boldness blossoming within her, a quiet confidence unfurling like a shy flower. 

“Lastly, don’t you find it romantic? Me, a literal stranger, managed to sweep you off of your feet—something your weird ghost thing probably never even managed to do, despite all your efforts.” Haewon’s voice took on a slightly smug, triumphant lilt in the last statement, a playful jab that landed with surprising accuracy. 

Lily felt a warm, undeniable wave of agreement wash over her, a silent concession to Haewon's point.

In fact, Lily had completely forgotten about him—that ephemeral, frustrating ghost of a relationship—amidst the intoxicating haze of Haewon’s kiss, the surprising warmth of her touch, and the delightful chaos of their unexpected night. 

Her mind was still swirling around the tantalizing thoughts of 'what ifs' and 'could bes' from their conversation earlier, and now, with a fresh wave of clarity, Lily really was regretting the entire ghost experience, a dull ache of wasted time.

“Fine, fine. You win.” Lily conceded lightheartedly, a soft, amused sigh escaping her lips as she rolled her eyes playfully, a theatrical gesture of defeat. A small, contented smile played on her lips, a silent acknowledgment of her own unexpected happiness.

Haewon’s grin widened, a triumphant flash of white teeth in the dim light. She gently took her hand back from Lily’s cheek, the lingering warmth a pleasant phantom, and casually stuffed it back into the cozy warmth of her gray hoodie pocket. 

Then, with a relaxed sigh, she leaned back against the cool, weathered backrest of the bench, her posture suddenly more at ease, as if she had just won a small, delightful victory.

As the last vestiges of night began to bleed into the soft, pastel hues of dawn, a faint, golden light began to peek over the distant horizon, painting the urban sky in gentle streaks of orange and pink. The city, still largely asleep, hummed with a muted, expectant quiet. 

They both caught a glimpse of the burgeoning sunrise, its gentle glow illuminating their faces, and they shared a look of profound, almost childlike bewilderment, a silent acknowledgment of the unexpected beauty of the new day, and the even more unexpected beauty of the night they had just shared.

“I think… we should probably head home for the night, right?” Lily asks playfully, her voice a soft, almost wistful murmur, as if she was reluctant to break the spell of their shared moment. She was still in disbelief that she had literally spent the entire night with Haewon, the hours having melted away like ice in the early morning sun.

“If you could even call it night anymore.” Haewon agrees with a soft chuckle, gesturing towards the steadily brightening sky, where the first hints of true daylight were painting the horizon. “But yeah, you’re right. We probably should.” Her voice was a little rough with sleep, but a contented warmth hummed beneath it.

Lily stays silent for a beat longer, a quiet moment of contemplation, before she pushes herself up from the bench with a soft groan, patting her clothes down awkwardly to remove the faint dust and stray leaves that had settled over them. “Well… This was really nice, Haewon…” She murmurs, her voice a little shy, as she stretches her hand out to Haewon, a silent invitation.

Haewon takes it, her fingers brushing Lily’s, and pulls herself up, standing too. The familiar weight of her guitar, Dionysus, which had been leaning patiently against the bench, felt comforting as she adjusted the strap over her shoulders.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Haewon muses to herself, her gaze drifting over the quiet park, a soft smile playing on her lips. “It was definitely an experience. A surprisingly delightful one, if I’m being honest.”

“I hope I didn’t take up too much of your time?” Lily asks softly, her brow furrowing with a lingering touch of concern, her eyes searching Haewon’s face for any hint of regret.

“No, you absolutely didn’t.” Haewon answers easily, her voice firm and reassuring, dispelling Lily’s worries with a gentle wave of certainty.

Lily stuffs her hands into the pockets of her oversized leather jacket, her fingers tracing the worn seams, and looks down at her shoes, avoiding Haewon’s gaze entirely. A nervous flutter stirred in her stomach, a familiar apprehension. “So… Do you think we could maybe do this again sometime soon?” The question was a soft, hesitant murmur, barely audible above the gentle rustle of leaves.

“Sure.”

The word was so simple, so understated, yet just like earlier, Lily felt a huge wave of relief wash over her, a warm, expansive feeling that settled deep in her chest. Her shoulders visibly relaxed, and a small, genuine smile bloomed on her face. She fishes her phone out of her pocket, the screen a sudden bright rectangle in the dim light, and pushes it towards Haewon, a silent, hopeful offering.

“Can I… well, if you want to… Just your number?” Lily’s words felt inadequate, a clumsy attempt to articulate the burgeoning hope in her heart, and she winces internally at her own lack of linguistic prowess, her cheeks warming with embarrassment.

Haewon takes the phone, her fingers brushing Lily’s, and swiftly inputs her number into Lily’s phone, her hands surprisingly steady despite the nervous flutter in her own stomach. A small, knowing smile played on her lips as she handed the phone back, the unspoken promise of future conversations hanging sweet in the air.

They didn’t say anything else, not a single word. A comfortable, almost giddy silence settled between them, thick with the unspoken promise of what the future might hold. Their eyes, still sparkling with the afterglow of their shared night, met for a long, meaningful moment, a silent agreement passing between them. The awkwardness was still there, a faint, familiar hum, but now it was laced with a thrilling anticipation, a quiet excitement for what they could become.

Lily gave Haewon a wide, cheesy grin, her eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine delight. She then offered a small, almost imperceptible shrug, a silent, playful gesture that conveyed everything her words couldn't. With a last, lingering glance, she turned away, her bob swaying softly as she began to walk, a spring in her step that hadn't been there just hours before.

As Lily’s figure grew smaller in the dim light of dawn, disappearing around a corner, Haewon found herself grinning like an absolute idiot. The smile stretched her cheeks, making her dimples deepen, a feeling of pure, unadulterated joy bubbling up from deep within her chest. It was a goofy, unrestrained expression, one she rarely let surface, but tonight, it felt right.

Yeah. Lockdown was an experience, alright. A chaotic, beer-soaked, unexpectedly beautiful experience. Lily was an experience, too—a whirlwind of emotions, a delightful, unpredictable force. And losing credits over an impulsive, and frankly reckless night with a stranger like Lily? That was also an experience. A truly unforgettable one.

And if all it took was some idiot ghost for Lily to cross paths with Haewon, then Haewon would be okay. Haewon wouldn’t have it any other way. Not for anything in the world.