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Ayeon walked aimlessly, just as she always had in her never-ending sleepless dreamscape. Before she knew it, she was already standing in front of Sol’s building. The burn on her cheek had gone numb, or rather, she had been numbed to it all a long time ago, this cold downpour just amplified the numbness.
As she gazed at the guesthouse, from the grimy rain-drenched wall to the very door Sol would come out of to see her before, Ayeon finally felt the impossibly tight knot in her chest unwovening bit by bit.
And she was able to breathe again.
How ironic. This place she had considered shabby by first impression was having such an impact on her unshakable heart.
Ayeon stepped beneath the dim lamp, feeling the ache in her chest easing just by being closer to the door.
To Sol.
But Sol wasn’t here. Somehow, Ayeon just knew. Perhaps because Sol hadn’t been here for her for a while now. There was nothing Ayeon could do about it, could she?
Even if it wasn’t fair, she stood there in the chilly downpour, hair sticking to her drenched skin, raindrops falling from her jaw. This way, Sol would be with her. Ayeon didn’t mind how long she had to wait to make that happen.
The monotonous pitter-patter of the rainfall continued with the drifting time. Ayeon allowed the sound to fill her ears. She remained patient, gazing into the starless night, more calming than her insomnia.
Pitter. Patter. Pitter. Patter. Splash.
The arrhythmic footsteps in the rain that were dull out of earshot grew louder and louder, until it was all she could hear.
Then it stopped, before it could fully reach her.
Ayeon turned her head, a smile already breaking through her lips. She hardly even felt the bruising ache on her cheek from her small action.
“You’re here,” she said, in lieu of a greeting.
The girl she had been waiting for stood stunned at the sight of her. Sol was wearing her uniform, despite the weekend. She carried a tote bag on her shoulder, and Ayeon should wonder where she had been.
And yet, the only words that seemed to work for her were, “I missed you, Sol.”
“…Ayeon,” Sol gasped out, breathless.
The building was as shabby from inside as it was outside. However, those privileged thoughts vanished from Ayeon’s head when the door to Sol’s living quarters, numbered 504, opened.
Floral-patterned wall. Unheated wooden floor. A bed in one corner and a desk in another. The size of her room couldn’t even touch a fraction of the living space Ayeon was accustomed to.
Sol seemed to be highly aware of this too, as she whispered with an embarrassed expression, “It’s small, isn’t it?”
“No.” Ayeon shook her head. “It’s comforting…”
And she meant it. This place, as foreign as it was to her, was also paradoxically familiar. It carried the same air she breathed in from the last dream she had.
Sol didn’t reveal anything on her face as she muttered, “I see. I’m glad you’re not uncomfortable.”
She stepped ahead to open the cabinet by her desk—her closet.
“Let’s see which of my clothes you can wear. You’ll get sick if you stay too long in that.”
Ayeon nodded and received the change of clothes Sol passed to her hands. The thrumming of the outside rain filled their silence as they changed out of their drenched clothes, faced away from each other.
“Are you done?” Sol whispered, her cautious voice barely audible through the sound of rainfall plinking against the window.
“I am,” Ayeon responded and turned around. She faced Sol, who was wearing a similar sweater and pants as her, except none of them were slightly too short on Sol like they were on Ayeon.
This brought a smile upon Ayeon’s lips. But Sol clearly didn’t feel the same.
“Um… here, for your hair.” Sol passed a small towel to Ayeon’s hand while scratching a timid finger in her damp dark hair.
Ayeon hummed and accepted the offer.
The outside downpour filled the soundless space between the two of them again. Ayeon never thought such a mundane sound could be this comforting to the ears. She patted her hair with the towel in her hands while seated on the ground beside the small bed, watching Sol fold their damp clothes and place them in a basket she shoved beneath her desk.
“Is that not uncomfortable?” Sol spoke up when their gazes intertwined again. “You can sit on the bed if you want.”
Ayeon squeezed her knees to her chest, her eyes never leaving Sol. “I’ll sit wherever you prefer.”
She could see Sol weighing the options in her head by the drifts of her eyes, before settling with, “Let’s sit on the bed.”
Ayeon compliantly settled on the edge of Sol’s bed, and the moment she felt the mattress dip slightly by her side, she knew the question was coming.
“Ayeon…”
“I know what you’re going to ask,” Ayeon sighed, busying her hands with her damp hair to avoid facing the harsh disappointment that was probably on Sol’s expression. “I haven’t gotten a chance to apologize to So-i yet. I can’t blame her either. She knows someone like me cannot give a sincere apology.”
Her haste brought the air in the room into a stifling standstill. Ayeon bit into her bottom lip, irrationally fearing for the worst, even though she didn’t know what it might be.
“No, Ayeon, that’s not what I wanted to ask.” Sol’s words were firm but also considerably soft, breaking away the cruel expectations Ayeon had forgotten why she had.
When Ayeon lifted her head to meet Sol’s eyes again, they were so incomprehensibly gentle. Filled with nothing but sincere concern by the clear reflection Ayeon could see herself in.
That’s right. This was the kind of person Sol was. Why did Ayeon think she would see something else? Didn’t she leave that suffocating place to break free from those expectations?
Sol placed a tender hand against her reddened cheek, whispering, “Are you okay?”
“Oh…” The bruise on her face. Ayeon had forgotten it was there. Her mouth hung open momentarily, unable to form any words other than echoing, “Am I… okay?”
It was such an unusual question that Ayeon didn’t even know where to begin. Every other time, she could manipulate and bend a response that would be easier to hear. But right here, before the very person she should keep her twisted feelings in check more than anyone, that question was tearing down all the guards she had kept up ever since she had been deemed as wrong. An abnormality.
An empty person who needed to be fixed. Or else, she didn’t deserve to exist in the same world as everyone else.
Ayeon was fine with it, until that world had Sol in it.
“I wonder…” she could only muse under her breath.
An ambiguous response that was neither lie nor truth. Just like the two of them. Because Sol wanted her to be a good person, but Ayeon couldn’t show her that the good person she tried to be with all her might was a joyless husk behind a practiced smile.
“Ayeon?”
Sol’s hushed whisper made her blink. Her eyelids felt heavy… and damp? Why were her lashes… wet and hazy to see…
Oh.
Ayeon was crying.
She blinked again, puzzlingly, as if to make sure. She was crying. Her tears were streaming down to Sol’s palms as her face was held by both hands now. Then she felt those gentle fingers run through her hair, urging her to lean forward to the soft cotton of the fabric on Sol’s shoulder.
Slowly, her rigid shoulders relaxed, and she dared to close her eyes. She let her world fade to black, because she knew Sol was still here, even if she couldn’t see her.
“Sol… I’m lonely…”
The confession fell from her lips before she even knew it, before she was even aware such a humane emotion could exist in her heart.
She thought she wasn’t supposed to feel loneliness. That was the trade-off to this empty world where she alone existed.
If she could feel loneliness, then what good was the art she had honed to fill this depthless void?
“Mm,” Sol hummed against her, vanquishing the spiral in her psyche.
Sol. Han Sol. So accepting. So close.
Ayeon didn’t know when she had gripped her hands to Sol’s sweater. She didn’t know when the dam had broke, and the wretched truths spilled from her throat,
“I’m a disappointment to my family, as you might already know. Art is the only way I can prove myself. If I can’t show that I can do at least that, then I have no worth…” Ayeon clenched her jaw. Her tense knuckles trembled as she finally said, “The results came out, I probably can’t keep going to Illip anymore.”
Sol’s breath hitched next to her. And, irrationally, Ayeon panicked, and she gripped her sweater harder, to keep her from disappearing.
“But Sol, I really meant it, when I said I wanted to keep going to this school with you,” she said in a rush, then fearing that her desperation might chase Sol away, she slowed herself down. “I’m sorry… I guess I’m the one going against my words. I can never keep a promise to you, can I?”
“Ayeon,” Sol whispered, and the gentle weight against her scalp began to move, easing Ayeon to raise her head from the dampened sweater. Sol gingerly rubbed the flat of her fingers over her wet lashes, while being careful not to put pressure anywhere near the bruise. “You can keep a promise.”
The statement caught her off guard. “What do you mean?” She blurted without any tact.
Sol’s expression softened to a smile. “You’ve been trying to apologize to So-i, haven’t you? Just because the result doesn’t show it doesn’t mean your effort isn’t there. The same goes for our practical exams. I believe your art has worth, Ayeon.”
No speech found its way to Ayeon’s lips. Had she ever truly seen the value of her art beyond the standard evaluations? When had the numbers on a score report shown all the strains and bruises on her fingers and the shadows beneath her eyelids?
“And if…” And Sol hesitated for a second Ayeon was willing to ignore. “If you truly could not keep going to Illip, that doesn’t mean you have to stop seeing me.”
Ayeon froze, unbelieving of what she heard with her own ears. “You don’t mind?” She questioned under her breath. “I can keep appearing at your door like this?”
Putting it like that seemed to make Sol reconsider herself by the slight flinch of her shoulders. But she was still Sol. She wasn’t cruel like the people around Ayeon’s isolated life. Ayeon was certain of this now.
“If you must… but I would prefer it if you don’t have to,” Sol admitted, wearing that brave and simultaneously nervy smile that always wedged into Ayeon’s heart. “I want to keep going to this school with you, too.”
This knowledge placated Ayeon, and at last, she undid her hold on Sol’s clothes, leaving harsh wrinkles where her grasp once was.
“I’ll try to go against my dad again,” she found the resolve to say, her swollen cheek stinging as she curved her lips into a smile.
“I know you will.” Sol’s gaze drifted back to the bruise with a flicker of worry before she said, “But you should get some rest first. A proper sleep.”
Sol pulled her to the lone pillow on the cramped bed, and plopped down next to her before she could get a word out.
“You said the breathing technique before helped, right?” Sol whispered softly, seeming just to remember every little thing about Ayeon as if it were natural. “Should we do it again?”
“Doesn’t it bring back bad memories?” Ayeon asked, despite herself. “Doing this, with me…” It hadn’t been that long at all since Ayeon had used Sol for her own benefits. She wondered if the question she should ask was, How could you still be with me?
Had Ayeon ever stopped to ponder if she deserved something? Something other than retribution, pain, and hurt…
“All I can think about right now is how it helped you sleep last time, and that’s all that matters to me right now,” Sol said resolutely, intertwining her fingers with Ayeon’s cold hand.
Ayeon’s eyes wavered, threatening to well with tears again. Sol was truly kind to a fault.
That’s why you can even like someone like me.
“It’s long overdue now, but… I’m sorry, Sol,” sincerity flowed from Ayeon’s lips, imperfect and fragile. “For hurting you with my selfishness before. I should never have taken advantage of your kindness the way I did.”
No excuses. No saccharine words. Just raw regrets, carved from the bottom of her heart.
Could Sol feel it?
Sol’s eyes were wide. Ayeon should be afraid to look at them, fear the doubt that could reveal from the gaze before her.
But she wasn’t. Not to Sol. Never to Sol.
“You’re forgiven,” said Sol, undoubtedly, unwaveringly.
Forgiven.
That one word shattered the cage around Ayeon’s heart. Ayeon was forgiven. The word that never had a meaning in her world slotted rightfully into the mended piece of her heart.
Ayeon was forgiven.
“See?” Sol’s eyes crinkled into a smile that brightened the room, drowning out the sound of rain outside. “I knew you could give a sincere apology.”
Only to you, Sol.
“You’re the only one who believes that,” Ayeon said instead, with a short chuckle.
Sol furrowed her brows stubbornly. “You’re trying to get the final word against me again…”
And for the first time, they shared a giggle together. Nothing like what Ayeon practiced around other people to appear normal, but resembled more of what Sol shared with her friends. It shook her shoulders. It made her cheeks burn. It was free. Ayeon had never let herself laugh this way before.
Only once the laughter died out, did Ayeon finally feel it all. The exhaustion weighting her shoulders. The heaviness of her puffy eyelids. The warmth of Sol’s hand in hers.
“Thank you, Sol.”
Because of you, I learned the name of this void in my heart, and feel it filled up at the same time.
Since Sol couldn’t hear the words Ayeon had encrypted on her heart, she was left to say, “What for? This is the least I could do, when you rely on me.”
So naturally.
Was it alright to bask in this much attention and affection?
Even if it wasn’t, Ayeon had no intention of letting go.
“Just… for being by my side.” Ayeon squeezed Sol’s hand, because no one else had been there for her this way before.
And when Sol squeezed back, Ayeon felt it directly in her chest.
“No problem,” Sol said, with a comforting smile. “You’re no trouble at all, Ayeon.”
A deep part of Ayeon knew that couldn’t be farther from the truth, but right now, she was willing to let herself believe it.
On the cramped bed meant for one person. In this guesthouse smaller than anything in Ayeon’s sheltered lifestyle. She felt all the tension that had accumulated since forever finally settle. And there was nowhere else she’d rather be.
Ayeon listened to Sol’s steady breaths. She breathed in the lulling scent of Sol with each set inhale. She bathed in this dreamlike warmth blanketing her.
She drifted off to sleep.
In her dream, the grasses were in a calming hue of green, and in the center of it all stood Sol. When Ayeon looked down, there was no unpassable gap between the two of them.
She took a step toward Sol, reaching her hand forward, ignoring where the void once was in her chest. And when Sol took hold of her hand, nothing felt impossible anymore.