Chapter Text
The first time Chaeyoung kissed her, she tasted like rosé.
They were in Lisa’s room- they would always be in Lisa’s room, whenever this happened, and Lisa sometimes wished they could have stayed there, forever. Just the two of them, because she had a single room, one of the few in the dormitory of the university they shared.
There weren’t many perks of being a scholarship student, fresh off the boat from Thailand. There was the program, there was dancing, there was her single room, and then there was Chaeyoung.
Looking back, Lisa would wonder how her life might have turned out differently if she had stayed. If she had gone to school in Bangkok like her parents always thought she would, worked in a little dance studio downtown instead of shooting for the moon.
She missed, somewhere along the way, but she landed on Park Chaeyoung instead, and that was worth all the dreams in the world.
(Lisa would do it all again, even given the choice.)
It went like this:
They had been spending more and more time in Lisa’s dorm room, alone. Mostly because the libraries were jam-packed during the exam season, or because Chaeyoung’s roommate drove her insane, but Lisa always wondered if Chaeyoung knew how much she liked it when it was just the two of them. She wondered if Chaeyoung liked it best that way, too.
It was just the two of them, and they had finished their exams that day but had somehow wound up like this again, on Lisa’s floor watching a drama on Chaeyoung’s laptop like they did on study breaks. Chaeyoung was humming some tune, playing with Lisa’s hair, and Lisa thought that maybe she could die happy here, listening to the background music of an angel.
Chaeyoung was always singing. She was probably the closest thing to a real singer that the music program had, and she had earned it. Lisa knew that it was really a result of blood, sweat, and tears, pure passion, and maybe they were similar like that, too. Because Lisa didn’t have many friends- she was in the studio too often, sweating and aching and pulling her muscles inside out trying to meet the mark, trying to earn her place.
But she had Chaeyoung.
Chaeyoung, who would tell her some nights, when it was late enough that they could feel safe knowing that no one else would hear, that she worried she would never measure up. That she wasn’t sure it would ever be worth it, that she worried everyone was laughing at her back home for trying to be a singer, of all things, that unattainable greatness of a spotlight so bright that so many tried for only to end up in darkness. How they used to make fun of her, and her parents would get sick of her singing so much and push her out the door, so she used to go sit on the docks for hours, and sing to the sea. How she sang in church; she still wore a necklace with a cross on it, everyday, small and silver and ever-present, like it was a part of her.
And Lisa would tell her too, how she cried for her parents nearly every night, how people in her dance classes spoke rapid-fire, Seoul-accented Korean and she knew from the looks on their faces it was about her. How she had to be the best, had to earn her position, because she had come too far to turn back; the way down to fall was too high.
They were talking, that night, but not about these things. Lisa would always wish she remembered the particulars of their conversation, but it was all hazy, with the background noise of the drama and the sound of Chaeyoung’s humming, and the way that the rosé had made everything just a little bit lighter and fuzzier.
That was when Chaeyoung looked at the two people on the screen, the actor and actress sharing an umbrella in the rain, some Taylor Swift song playing as they looked at one another, and said:
“Do you ever wish we had time, for things like that?”
Lisa tilted her head, considering.
To be honest, her answer was no. Dating options were few and far between when you were a tan-skinned foreigner already, and she was too busy- they both were. They barely had enough time for each other, and yet, somehow, they always managed to make time.
The thought made her warm. She drank more, straight from the glass bottle they were sharing, and winced a little bit. She still wasn’t used to the taste of alcohol, never having been allowed any back home. She and Chaeyoung had that in common, as her friend had barely had anything stronger than communion wine before university.
“Why’s it pink?” she asked, in lieu of an answer, focusing on the way the pink liquid sloshed about merrily in the bottle.
“Lisa-yahhh,” Chaeyoung whined, in the way that always made the corners of Lisa’s lips twitch.
She could listen to Chaeyoung say her name all day long, in that pretty voice.
“I’m asking you a serious question!”
“So am I!” Lisa argued, just to argue, grinning a bit. “It says wine on the label, but it’s pink. I thought wine could be only red or white-”
Chaeyoung pouted, and she caved immediately.
“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “Maybe if- if I lived a different life. But this is what we signed up for, right? To not have time, for things like that.”
She gestured to the screen, where the two leads were now embracing, umbrella forgotten, their hair plastered to their face by the rain. Somehow, of course, the lead actress’s makeup was perfectly intact, her lips painted a pretty blush color when the actor leaned in for a kiss.
Chaeyoung was quiet, for a while. She wasn’t even humming, which was strange, so Lisa tried to pick up from where she had left off, to fix whatever might have been broken. The rosé made it easier, making her words come out all liquid.
“I mean, I don’t think I need anything like that. I already have-”
She cut herself off, abruptly, but Chaeyoung had straightened up, fixing her with a look she couldn’t quite place, her hand falling aside from where it had been playing with Lisa’s hair. Lisa felt herself whimper, internally, at the loss of the touch, but she kept it down.
“You already have what?”
There was an edge to Chaeyoung’s voice, one that she couldn’t understand, and Lisa blinked, wishing she hadn’t had quite so much wine.
“You,” she said, honestly and a little stupidly.
The moment felt like something too big, suddenly, and she tugged the bottle from Chaeyoung’s hands, taking a swig of it. Chaeyoung took it back as soon as she was done, and their hands brushed, and something in Lisa’s stomach twisted, and it only got worse when she watched the way Chaeyoung’s head tilted back to drink, deeply, her throat bobbing as she swallowed-
“Yeah, god knows you keep me too busy for a boyfriend, Chaeng-ah,” Lisa covered, quickly, her tone teasing, forcing her eyes back to the screen. It was a new scene now, and she couldn’t tell if she was glad or not. “You take up all my evenings, make me keep you company in the studio- fuck, I even have to walk you to class when it’s dark, because you’re too scared to-”
Rosé.
Her world was full of rosé, suddenly, and it took her a moment to realize it was because Chaeyoung had leaned in, the wine bottle pressing between them, but Lisa couldn’t think about that or anything else because Chaeyoung’s lips were on hers.
Chaeyoung was kissing her .
Chaeyoung was so beautiful.
She had watched Chaeyoung’s mouth more times than she would ever admit. Had studied her pretty pink lips while she sang, had studied her cupid’s bow more than any of her textbooks during their late-night cram sessions, but nothing could have prepared her for the way it felt.
Soft.
Lisa closed her eyes, leaning in herself to deepen it.
Softer.
It tasted like pink wine and something more, something undeniably Chaeyoung, like flowers and warmth and what the fuck was she thinking, what the fuck was going on, so soft -
They had to pull away to breathe.
“I,” Lisa started, and then she didn’t know what to say, and Chaeyoung was looking both lost and found at the same time, and their lips were back on one another's, and Lisa was drowning, drowning in Park Chaeyoung, and she never wanted to breathe again if it meant stopping, and everything was fluid and sweet and-
“It’s neither,” Chaeyoung said, as she pulled them apart again.
Lisa could only blink at her, through the haze, through the feeling of Chaeyoung’s hair tickling her face because they were so close and the lingering buzz of Chaeyoung’s lips on hers.
“Huh?”
“Rosé. It’s, like, not officially a white or a red wine. It’s- it’s something in between, I think.”
“Oh.”
Yeah. Oh.
Lisa leaned in again, but she only met air, and she must have had her eyes shut, because when she opened them again, Chaeyoung was standing up, shoving her laptop in her bag, and staggering out of the room.
Even though it was dark outside.
Maybe she wasn’t so scared, after all.
Lisa regretted thinking anything along those lines, because it was two weeks before she saw Park Chaeyoung again.
She tried texting her. She tried calling her. She even showed up at her studio, for old time’s sake, and because it was not like she had anything else to do. It was the winter break and everyone had gone home- not Lisa, of course. Thailand was too far for the trip to be worth the expense, and the fact of that made her chest clench every goddamn minute.
It hurt worse because she knew Chaeyoung wasn’t headed home for the break, either. Chaeyoung was from Australia, she would only go back in the summer, they had talked about it, in study sessions and little exchanges in Lisa’s dance practice rooms or Chaeyoung’s vocal studio. They had talked about hot chocolate, and movies, and going out to bars because they finally would have the time to, and seeing the Christmas lights put up, and-
The building that held Chaeyoung's studio was locked. Only students with key card access could get in, and Lisa didn’t have it, because the music building was separate from the performing arts building, and because she didn’t belong there.
She knew that.
She still waited hours, though, in the freezing cold of a Seoul winter, before she finally gave up when she couldn’t feel her fingers anymore.
Lisa might have expected that Chaeyoung would come to her.
But really, after weeks of waiting, of feeling lonely and ill at ease, she was starting to expect nothing at all.
Part of her felt angry, too. Angry, that Chaeyoung had been the one to kiss her, and then had just left, as if it were Lisa’s fault, as if it had meant nothing.
(It had meant everything.)
But she could never be angry with Chaeyoung for long. And it probably was her fault too, she was realizing, because surely Chaeyoung had noticed that Lisa had been in love with her for the past three months, even if Lisa was just realizing it now.
She only admitted it to herself very late at night, when she was exhausted, had practiced five hours in a row to try and rid herself of the feeling of emptiness and confusion, but she still couldn’t sleep. Her thoughts, even her dreams, haunted by the phantom of Chaeyoung’s lips.
Soft.
“Lisa-yah…”
Something inside her ached .
“Lisa- Lisa-yah?”
Lisa blinked, sitting upright in bed. She checked the clock- half past midnight.
She lay back against her bed, sighing.
Great. So she was delusional, too, on top of everything else.
She closed her eyes again, trying to hang onto the snippet of Chaeyoung’s voice that had drifted back across her mind, missing the sound of it so much she could have sobbed-
“Lisa?”
Lisa sat bolt upright, again.
No, that was definitely not her imagination this time.
It was coming from outside her door, and there was only one person it could be, and she knew she should feel angry or sullen but she could only feel relief, pulling the door open and-
And the second time Chaeyoung kissed her, it tasted like whiskey.
It burned .
Lisa spluttered, a little, against the mouth that was all but attacking her own, but it was burning her from the inside out, and Chaeyoung’s hands- fuck, those hands she had watched strum the guitar, press down the keys of a piano so gently- were fisted in her shirt, pulling her closer, tearing the fabric, pushing underneath.
She opened her mouth in a gasp, when Chaeyoung’s hands found her chest.
They were freezing cold, but the whiskey on her breath made it almost warmer, almost, when Chaeyoung spoke.
“Please.”
She was crying.
Lisa couldn’t tell what was going on, but Chaeyoung was crying, and clinging to her like she would never let go, like she was punishing Lisa for making it so that she could never let go, and then those lips were back on her own again, and everything was harsh and fire-
“Please, Lisa-yah, just- just-”
“Okay,” Lisa found herself mumbling, as the door slammed shut behind them, sealing their fate just as much as the way Chaeyoung’s hands were, pulling her closer, putting Lisa’s own hands on her skin like she was starving for it, dying for it, damned for it.
“Okay. Yeah, okay, we can-”
They could.
So they did.
Even though Lisa knew she would wake up alone, after, that didn’t mean the empty, cold sheets beside her didn’t sting, worse than the lingering smell of whiskey on the air.
They had to talk.
They had fucked, for christ's sake, so now they had to talk, and this time Lisa waited outside the studio as long as it took for another student to walk out, not even caring at the funny look they gave her as she rushed in, teeth chattering.
Chaeyoung was at the recording booth, as always, scribbling something on a sheet of notebook paper with a frown. She looked up, and at the sight of Lisa, her face turned the same color as the paper.
“Lisa-yah-”
“No,” Lisa interrupted firmly, and even as Chaeyoung glanced around she made sure she was blocking the only exit, knowing that the sound proofing would take care of the rest. “No, Chaeyoung-ah, you don’t get to- you don’t get to do this. You have to- we have to-”
“Lisa, please -”
“You don’t get to kiss me and then ignore me for weeks, only to turn up plastered and begging for me to fuck you until you pass out-”
“ Lisa- ”
“-I’m supposed to be your best friend, Chaeng, I think I deserve more than that, I think we-”
Chaeyoung sank to the ground, her hands over her ears, her whole body shaking, and Lisa had to stop, couldn’t bear to see it.
“ Please, ” Chaeyoung gasped, just like she had the night before, except it was for something so different, something Lisa couldn’t understand. “I can’t- ”
“Chaeyoung-ah,” Lisa murmured, kneeling down beside her. She was scared to touch her, scared to make it worse, because Chaeyoung was crying again.
Why was she crying?
“Chaeyoung-ah, why are you-”
“I can’t,” Chaeyoung only repeated, again and again until Lisa stopped asking, stopped trying, just held her.
“You’re my best friend,” Chaeyoung choked, after so long that Lisa had stopped counting, too. “You’re my- every song I write is about you.”
It was about to be beautiful.
Lisa could tell. She could feel it in her bones, a dizzy kind of rush, the promise of something magical, something life-changing, and she held her breath, because it was about to happen.
Chaeyoung was about to tell her she was in love with her. And Lisa was about to tell her that she was in love with her too, had probably been in love with her since the first day they met, and then they would burst out laughing, and hold each other for hours, and wonder at how exactly the fuck that had happened, and they would kiss, and it would only taste like Chaeyoung and the lingering melody of the songs she had written about Lisa, for Lisa -
“But I can’t .”
(Something that it would take Lisa years to learn: Chaeyoung could have. But she didn’t.)
Things changed after that.
Things changed so much that sometimes Lisa forgot how things had been before.
Since the day in the studio, she never attempted to talk about it, really talk about it, with Chaeyoung again. They both licked their wounds for a few days, and Lisa passed out in the dance practice room after forgetting to eat, and she was sure Chaeyoung’s fingers were permanently stained with ink by now from all the time she had spent in her studio, but then they came back together, as they always would.
It took Kim Jisoo, an acting major who happened to be a mutual friend (well, acquaintance- Lisa still counted Chaeyoung as her only real friend) throwing a party to celebrate the beginning of a new semester for them to reach one another again this time.
Lisa showed up already dizzy from pre-gaming with a few people from dance, and it was only a few hours before she caught Chaeyoung’s eye, and found that blazing look on her face again.
She almost wished they had fucked in the bathroom, the way other shit-faced, poor-decision-making university students did. Instead, they walked back to Lisa’s dorm, and when the door closed Lisa barely had time to breathe before Chaeyoung was on her, and everything was drenched in shitty vodka that made her throat hurt.
Lisa was angry, then. A little. She fucked Chaeyoung hard, harder than the first time, not bothering to prep her, giving her one right there up against the door before her pulling her into bed and working her over until she was crying again, again , and by the time it was over her anger had turned into something worse, curdling in her stomach, a sick mixture of resignation and self-hatred and heartbreak.
In the morning, Chaeyoung was still there. Covered in hickies and hungover, and Lisa took the first day of classes off to take care of her, making her congee and wondering if she had ever known her at all.
So it went.
It was always Chaeyoung, knocking at her door. Lisa knew better than to visit her studio again, or her dormitory. She knew, too, what their study sessions would turn into- desperate, stifled whimpers, silenced in one another’s mouths, Chaeyoung rutting against her fingers or mouth so frantically Lisa could only fuck her harder in ressurance.
Chaeyoung came by her dance studio whenever she had booked a private practice room, one of the ones with no cameras, and watched her dance before finally stopping the music with pleading, glassy, already ruined eyes, her hands reaching for Lisa’s hips, her fingers stumbling over the muscles of Lisa’s abdomen with a moan.
Chaeyoung never touched her more than was necessary to get the point across, though. Lisa was usually left soaked and aching, in her heart and between her legs, while Chaeyoung got dressed again with satiated yet absent eyes, or fell asleep beside her.
Lisa liked it the best at nights, still, just the two of them. When she could hold Chaeyoung and ignore the cross necklace that still wound innocently around Chaeyoung’s neck, the metal making her skin itch whenever she touched it.
Chaeyoung still tasted like alcohol, whenever they slept together. Usually it was beer or soju or cheap vodka, sometimes it was red wine that made Lisa’s blood roar because she knew Chaeyoung was coming home from a date.
Chaeyoung had started dating, too. Lisa supposed she had finally been able to make time for it- maybe it was a last ditch effort. Maybe Chaeyoung was trying, as desperately as ever, to find some way out, some new fodder for her song lyrics, some new poison.
Lisa had already given in to it.
There was one girl that could have changed her mind. Maybe.
Years passed, easily, painfully. It was at another of Jisoo’s parties. Lisa would be going home with Chaeyoung of course, but she still had a few hours to kill before Chaeyoung got herself wasted enough to warrant it.
There was nothing particularly special about the night. It was graduation, so everyone was losing their shit, trying to find someone or something meaningful as what most people called the greatest years of their life came to an end, but for Lisa, not much would change.
She had a job at a dance studio waiting for her. Head choreographer- it was ridiculous, right out of university, and she was sure to turn heads, but when Chaeyoung had heard she had said Lisa, that’s brilliant, you’re brilliant, with a smile so wide Lisa wanted to imprint it in her memory forever. Chaeyoung herself had been getting a following on Youtube, even performing at a few bars and events, and was going to work part-time to keep it up-
Someone bumped into Lisa. She started, spilling a bit of her drink, jolted out of her thoughts.
“Fuck-”
Lisa turned, about to say it’s fine, don’t worry, except the words died on her tongue, because oh, pretty face.
The woman in front of her somehow had both a soft, round face and sharp eyes, her smile even sharper when she caught Lisa staring, her full lips painted red.
“Take a picture, love. It’ll last longer.”
“Sorry,” Lisa rushed to say, pulling herself out of it, because seriously, Lisa, what the fuck. “I didn’t- I’m just, sorry-”
“Relax,” the pretty woman said, still with an easy grin on her face, something that bordered on a smirk as she looked Lisa up and down. “I was going to say sorry, too, for running into you there, but I don’t think I will.”
“You- won’t say sorry?”
Lisa was having a hard time following. This woman, whoever she was, was kind of unfairly beautiful, and Lisa could also feel eyes burning into the side of her face, and she knew, somewhere inside her, that Chaeyoung was watching.
“I won’t,” the woman continued calmly. “Because I’m glad I ran into you.”
She extended a hand, black manicured nails shining a little in the filtered, technicolor light of the party.
“Jennie Kim.”
Lisa fumbled a little, feeling the odd urge to giggle, because it was so long since she had introduced herself to another student so formally, with her full name.
“Lisa. Lisa Manoban. Well, Lalisa Manoban, really, but- just Lisa.”
“Well, just Lisa,” Jennie Kim all but purred, and it was probably the most overused, blatant kind of flirting in the book, but fuck if it didn’t make Lisa’s insides squirm. “Why don’t I get you another drink?”
“Lisa-yah.”
Someone’s hand was biting into her other wrist, and Lisa winced, turning a little.
It was Chaeyoung, of course, her expression unreadable and her eyes unfocused in that familiar way that made another little piece of Lisa’s heart chip off.
“Come on. We should- I want to go home.”
Home.
Maybe Chaeyoung knew what she was doing, or maybe not, but Lisa couldn’t say no to that, letting go of Jennie Kim even though part of her still wanted to linger.
“Sorry, Jennie, I’ll- it was nice meeting you. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
Jennie’s smile was still in place, but there was something different about it, as she looked between Lisa and Chaeyoung- it was almost amused, and almost pitying.
“I doubt it. Have a good night, Lalisa Manoban.”
Chaeyoung all but dragged Lisa outside, Lisa wincing again at the harshness of her nails on her skin.
“Chaeyoung-ah, slow down-”
“I want to go,” Chaeyoung insisted, and fuck, maybe she had been going to the gym more or something, because Lisa was struggling to keep up with her as she walked, fast, still clinging onto Lisa’s wrist.
“Chaeng- baby, stop, what’s going on-”
“ Don’t- ”
Chaeyoung whirled around to face her, yanking her hand away with her eyes on fire. Lisa could smell the soju on her, but it didn’t seem to be as much as usual, and maybe that was why everything was worse.
“Don’t- you don’t get to- why don’t you go call Jennie baby?”
It was all spluttering, all ire that had been festering, an ugly wound with a hint of fear to it, and Lisa felt angry again, properly anger, for the first time in the months and years since she had given up getting mad about any of it, back when everything had changed and now, under the cruel light of the street lamps and tipsy but not tipsy enough, she wondered if it had been worth it.
(It had been worth everything.)
“You’re jealous? ”
Chaeyoung reeled backwards, nearly stumbling, at the pure amount of venom Lisa had managed to concentrate in her voice, and she could barely recognize the way she sounded, too.
“Are you fucking kidding me- ”
“Don’t- Lisa, we can’t talk about this here-”
Lisa could have been the angriest person in the world, and she still would have folded, futilely, at the look of panic on Chaeyoung’s face, her eyes darting around to see if there were other people around to overhear them.
“Fine. Fine, let’s go back to mine, then.”
They did, in silence, Lisa stewing all the while.
The door shut, and before Chaeyoung could pull her in, could press her intoxicating lips on hers again, Lisa rounded on her.
“For fuck’s sake, we barely even spoke for more than a minute-”
Chaeyoung was all defensiveness, all wide-eyed, flushed-cheeked irrationality.
“As if you didn’t see the way she was looking at you-”
“Who gives a fuck how she was looking at me?” Lisa all but yelled, her voice drowning out Chaeyoung’s ranting. “Least of all you- how many guys did you meet up with this week before crawling back into my bed, Park Chaeyoung? ”
Chaeyoung’s face twitched, as if Lisa had slapped her, but Lisa continued, savagely feeling both satisfied and so wholly unsatisfied by the damage she was doing that she wanted to scream.
“How many more will it take for you to finally get over me, do you think? How many did you kiss, hoping they would make you feel even a fraction of the way I do?”
“Lisa-”
“How many did you fuck,” Lisa spat, stepping forwards, her voice bordering on dangerous, Chaeyoung’s back hitting the wall, her eyes wide. “Trying to run away from me? From this? Except there is no this , is there, because you won’t-”
“I can’t- this isn’t about that!” Chaeyoung cried, her voice cracking a little as she tried desperately to turn the conversation around. “This is about you- you and, and her, and she- and you liked it, when she-”
“The only person I like,” Lisa said, forceful, full of self-hatred, because she couldn’t bring herself to say love , because Chaeyoung would surely never say it, either. “Is you. Always, you.”
That made Chaeyoung fall silent, finally.
Somehow, that only made Lisa feel worse. She wanted to keep going, to keep sticking knives in, deeper and deeper in the wild hope that she might finally reach Chaeyoung’s heart, somehow, some way.
“But yeah, I liked it. Because she actually knew what she wanted, Chaeng. She actually wanted to touch me-”
Chaeyoung opened her mouth, her eyes flashing again, but Lisa spoke over whatever she would have said.
“-unlike you.”
Silence, again.
“Do you think it makes you any less gay? If you don’t touch me?”
Her voice broke, and she watched as something behind Chaeyoung’s eyes did, too.
She excepted tears. Actually, she expected to be hit across the face, and for Chaeyoung to storm out, to ignore her for weeks only to come knocking at her door- her apartment door, surely, they would have moved out of the dorms by then- reeking of wine and desperation and something Lisa would surely mistake over and over for love.
She didn’t expect Chaeyoung to drop down to her knees.
“Chaeng-”
Chaeyoung’s hands were already yanking down her jeans, scrabbling on her underwear to pull that down, too, and Lisa only had time to say her name, once, before Chaeyoung pressed her mouth to her.
“ Chaeyoung- ”
It was heaven.
Or- it was hell, surely, with how scaldingly hot, how consuming, how utterly sinful it felt, but Lisa let Chaeyoung worry about things like that, worry about what was sin and what wasn’t, that damned cross necklace still hanging from her neck even with her face buried between Lisa’s legs, her tongue sliding across her like it was something intoxicating, better than alcohol and twice as destructive-
“I’m not fucking them,” Chaeyoung managed, somehow, the soft vibrations of her voice makes Lisa bite down on her own lip hard enough to taste blood. “Not- not fucking anyone else, Lisa, just you- just you, only you, so don’t-”
“I won’t,” Lisa answered, something between a gasp and a moan. “Chaeng, won’t- it’s just you, too-”
Chaeyoung made a small noise, a choked whimper of frantic satisfaction and relief, taking her clit between her lips and sucking.
It only took a few more minutes. Everytime Lisa looked down, seeing that familiar blonde head bobbing up and down as Chaeyoung ate her out almost furiously, she had to stifle a groan, and the sounds of Chaeyoung’s tongue made it worse, or maybe better, and then her knees were buckling and her vision was whiting out and all she could do was clap a hand to her mouth to stop herself from crying out-
She came, silently, violently, a tear sliding down her cheek.
And when Chaeyoung came up to kiss her, she tasted like Lisa.
It was almost enough.
They moved in together after university.
It just made sense, with the Seoul prices for apartments, and because neither of them had the money to live alone. Lisa was still earning her position as a choreographer- she wondered whether she would ever stop proving herself. She visited home again, just once, and breathing in the Bangkok air was worth the hit her savings account took. And Chaeyoung was- well, she wasn’t quite making it yet, but she had a decent following.
It was a few months of something close to bliss.
Looking back, though, Lisa should have known it wasn’t quite- it wasn’t quite what a relationship was. Or should be.
They didn’t go on dates. They went places together, but they never held hands, or kissed, and Lisa did as much with people from work, but still. That was something, right?
And Chaeyoung kissed her sober, now. They had their own place, just the two of them, and Chaeyoung kissed her while Lisa was making dinner, kissed her when she was carrying the laundry back to their room, kissed when they were in bed together.
And they touched one another now, too, and the whole thing was so wonderfully not as one-sided anymore that Lisa couldn’t ask for anything more, would have been content like this forever, the perpetual heartbreak finally lessened, because fuck what anyone else said.
She had Chaeyoung.
After work, she would go to bars or small venues to watch Chaeyoung sing, and play her guitar, and she would feel warm to her bones at the thought of Chaeyoung singing about her .
Chaeyoung never sang of love specifically, in her songs. Most of them had an aching, wanting quality, something undefinable, not the word itself, but Lisa didn’t mind.
(Chaeyoung had, in fact, written songs that used the word love . She always burned the paper, afterwards, watched it all turn to ash- just throwing it away would have been too risky.)
It all fell apart when Chaeyoung got the record deal.
She had texted Lisa to let her know, which was the first of the red flags, because her text was short and not at all as happy as you’d think it would be for someone dreaming and living and dying for music their entire life.
Lisa bought champagne, and had hurried home early, grinning openly, intending to sweep Chaeyoung up into a kiss-
The look on Chaeyoung’s face stopped her dead in her tracks.
She was sitting on the couch. Still, resolved, like a statue- Lisa wondered why there seemed to be not even a shred of life in her eyes, her necklace hanging low, beneath her shirt, right up against the skin of her chest.
“Chaeng-ah? Baby, what- what happened? They didn’t take the deal back, did they?”
She had set the champagne aside, had knelt down beside her, had taken her cold hands and squeezed them twice, softly, reassuringly.
“I told my parents about it. The record deal.”
Chaeyoung’s voice came out like iron. Brittle, rusted, not at all its usual smooth melody.
“Yeah? I bet they were proud. Are they coming here, to celebrate-”
“Lisa.”
Her tone made Lisa want to freeze time. Or maybe rewind it- go back to that morning, when she had kissed Chaeyoung goodbye before rushing out the door, go back to that sleepy smile and gentle humming as they cooked breakfast.
“Lisa. I’m getting married.”
At first, Lisa thought she was joking,
It seemed ridiculous, later. Why would Chaeyoung be joking?
But she could feel herself smiling, desperately, almost giddily.
“Chaeng-ah. You know we can’t- they haven’t changed the laws here yet, baby, what are you-”
“It’s not you.”
It’s not you.
Somehow, those words would hurt worse than anything else that was said, later, because they captured the truth so succinctly.
It wasn’t Lisa. It would never be Lisa.
“What?”
“My parents. They said- now that I’m signed, I can settle down, I can- there’s this guy.”
“A guy?” Lisa felt herself choke a little, on the words.
“What guy? Chaeyoung-ah, what are you-”
She found herself squeezing Chaeyoung’s hands again, desperate to hold on to a bit of her, because she seemed so fucking far away.
“There’s this guy. He’s a family friend, he’s- a doctor, or something, they think he’d be good for me, they’ve been- been asking for a while, but I haven’t found anyone on my own yet, so-”
“But you can’t ,” Lisa managed, as childish and stupid as it sounded, like a toddler refusing to give a toy back at playtime, the parents looking on disapprovingly in the background. “They can’t do that . You- you’re with me, we’re-”
But Chaeyoung’s parents didn’t know that.
Of course they didn’t. They would never approve, and they would never- and this , whatever it was- would never-
It would never be her.
“Lisa-yah.”
And here was Park Chaeyoung, folding into her, reaching in to grasp desperately at her shirt, her skin, anywhere she could reach.
“Lisa-yah. I’m scared.”
(Lisa would think, for months after, that Chaeyoung meant she was scared of the guy, her groom-to-be, whoever he was. Or her parents. She was right, in part, but would only realize the ultimate truth later, much later, in a sunlit room-)
In a sunlit room, Park Chaeyoung looked stunning in white.
The ceremony would start in a few minutes.
A white wedding dress. A chapel, the one down the street from her parents’ house. A perfect, blushing bride-
Not blushing. Well, there was makeup caked to her face, some of it painting a healthy pink across her cheeks, but she was bloodless, beneath that, as Lisa looked at her.
Of course Lisa was there. She was Chaeyoung’s best friend, of course she would be there at her wedding, dressed in bridesmaids colors and looking utterly blank.
The night before, it had been a twisted kind of bachelorette party, just Chaeyoung and Lisa in the hotel room in Melbourne, stone cold sober and losing themselves in one another again, and again, and again.
(“Choose me,” Lisa had whispered, giving in at last to begging, two fingers buried in Chaeyoung’s soaking wet heat, her eyes glassy and her lips sore. “Choose me, Chaeyoung-ah-”
“I can’t,” Chaeyoung had sobbed for what felt like the millionth time, shuddering and shattering her way into another orgasm. “I can’t- Lisa-yah, need to taste you, please, need you-”
“I won’t stay,” Lisa had gasped, a warning, a threat, a promise, eyes squeezing shut at the way Chaeyoung sucked at her so filthily she wondered if the neighboring suites could hear it through the walls. “I won’t be your- your fucking mistress, not like before, not when you’re married-”
“I know,” Chaeyoung had murmured, flush up against her, slipping ringless fingers inside her and watching her dance, before Lisa flipped them over to make her sing. “I know.”
“I love you,” Lisa had finally cried, when all they could do was senselessly kiss and sob and rub up against one another exhaustedly. “I love you, baby, Chaeyoung-ah, you have to know-”
“I know-”
“-I love you, you fucking coward-”
“-I know- Lisa-yah, god, I know, I can’t -”)
“I love you,” Lalisa Manoban said again in the sunlit room, for what might be the last time, when footsteps could be heard down the hall- Chaeyoung’s father, come to usher Lisa to her seat and lead his daughter down the aisle.
“I’m scared,” Park Chaeyoung answered, her voice as soft and as musical as always, a slight tremor to it, and that was when Lisa finally understood what she meant.
I’m scared of loving you, too.