Eating and Feeding
Three days — short if you call them short, long if you call them long — had passed.
Lying spread-eagled across her bed, Yeoncheong let out a long breath and thought to herself.
Wow... I can finally breathe again.
Yet for all that thought, regret and relief coexisted on her face.
The year-long distance that had kept their relationship awkwardly stiff was showing signs, little by little, of returning to its rightful place — like the world preparing for spring as it emerged from a cold winter.
Of course, there had been some noise along the way.
Since becoming a girl, the times Yeoncheong had lived under one roof with someone amounted to just about three things: the school trip, the summer beach vacation, and the pajama party. In other words, every single one had been spent with her female friends.
And while living alongside girls her own age had helped her grow used to life as a woman, that was strictly a matter of being out in public.
At home in her studio apartment, she still let herself get comfortable more often than not — and every time, her startled father would launch into a fresh round of nagging.
She knew he said it all out of concern for her, but nagging was nagging.
The joy of their repaired relationship hadn't lasted long, either. It was the day after seeing her father off that this all began.
And so Yeoncheong was now savoring the freedom she'd reclaimed after three whole days.
That a trace of wistfulness still lingered in the corner of her face, though — maybe that was just the peculiar nature of humans, who want to be alone yet hate being lonely.
Yeoncheong shut her eyes tight and murmured inwardly.
Just a little more rest. Just a little more...
Even family is family, but a father reappearing after a year apart apparently wasn't the most relaxing presence — her body had been wound tight without her realizing it, and sprawled across the bed, Yeoncheong drifted off before she knew it.
Having completely forgotten that today was the day she was supposed to see a play with Seoha...
If there was one thing to be grateful for, it was that the time she and Seoha had agreed to meet was in the afternoon, after lunch.
"Hah... hah..."
"Yeoncheong! Over here."
Seoha waved toward her as she came sprinting up — and as you could tell from that sight alone, the streets were nearly empty right after the holiday weekend. There was no crowd for Yeoncheong to get jostled around in, and no worry about failing to spot her friend.
She braked to a halt like a car slamming on the brakes, and the momentum carried her upper body naturally forward. In one fluid, connected motion, Yeoncheong bowed at the waist and apologized.
"Sorry! I'm really sorry!"
"It's fine. You're only ten minutes late."
Thankfully she'd woken up before the appointed hour, so she wasn't terribly late — but appointments exist for the purpose of being kept. Considering how cold it still was, being late even one second was a genuine wrong.
Yeoncheong, holding that conviction, showed no sign of straightening her bent back — and so something caught Seoha's eye as she looked down at her friend.
It was the back of Yeoncheong's neck. Her bow had happened to expose the skin that her hair usually kept hidden.
Perhaps because her hair shielded it from the sunlight, the skin there looked somehow even fairer than her surroundings.
Committing the sight to memory anew, Seoha had to admit it was a rare treasure of a view.
Yeoncheong had insisted on a bob that reached her shoulders from the very start, and never once tied her hair up — so seeing her nape laid bare like this was practically a first.
What's more, her face was pointed straight down at the ground. There had never been a more defenseless moment.
Here, right in front of her, was the perfect way to rouse a friend who refused to budge no matter how many times she said she was fine. Seoha didn't hesitate; she extended her index finger.
"Hyek!"
They were outdoors, so the moment Seoha's cold finger swept down the back of her neck, a chill raced up Yeoncheong's spine and she shot upright, shivering.
She covered her nape with one hand and glared.
"Seoha, you—"
"You should've stopped when I said it was fine. You apologize, I accept, and that's the end of it."
Seoha wasn't wrong. And since Yeoncheong had been the one at fault, she seemed willing to let this much slide. Yeoncheong changed the subject.
"It's February. Why are you wearing a scarf? Cold?"
"What do you mean, why — it's the one you gave me. Besides, winter's almost over. I have to get my wear out of it before then."
She meant she wore it often because it was a gift from someone she loved — and either way, seeing it put to such good use made the giver happy too.
Seoha naturally looped her arm through Yeoncheong's and smiled.
"So, where to? We still have time before the play."
As if spring had come for her alone. At that unseasonably soft smile, Yeoncheong instinctively took a step back — but with her arm already captured, there was nowhere to run.
I figured something like this was coming, given the mood...
They'd made the plan at a stairway hardly anyone used, and instead of a movie, it was a play — with tickets Seoha had personally procured.
Her friends teased her by calling her Daengcheongi, sure, but she wasn't so dense that she couldn't guess what agenda a friend might have.
If she were, she should've renamed herself Daengcheong instead of Yeoncheong ages ago.
Still, isn't this a little fast?
What had thrown Yeoncheong off wasn't Seoha's behavior itself, but the timing of when it began.
Not every action came with one, but most of Seoha's moves were preceded by her telltale wind-up. Today, though, Seoha had closed the distance the instant they met, pressing in without preamble.
As if to say she'd break Yeoncheong down today, no matter what.
And so Yeoncheong — whose defenses had been worn thin from rushing to arrive on time — found herself briefly at a loss for words.
But it was only her mouth that had gone quiet...
She'd run all the way here, skipping lunch in order not to be late. With the meal that always arrived on schedule now missing, her stomach took the shameless opportunity to cut in.
Grrrowl.
Maybe it was because she'd been running, but the sound seemed louder than usual, and Yeoncheong's face flushed crimson.
"No, this is... um..."
Perhaps her flustered fumbling, hands clutched over her stomach, was cute — Seoha let out a small laugh and poked Yeoncheong's belly with her finger.
"You keep your mouth shut, so he's speaking up for you."
"Ugh... stop it."
To her friend, who was writhing this way and that with a groan of agony, Seoha made a proposal.
"I guess we should grab something quick to eat. We can't have your stomach growling again in the middle of the play."
Yeoncheong assented to the suggestion in silence, and they set off.
The pair's destination was a nearby hamburger franchise.
True to the name fast food, the cooking time was short and the eating went quickly too. Since Seoha had claimed she'd already eaten lunch, Yeoncheong couldn't very well leave her waiting around doing nothing — this was the best option.
After a minor episode in which Seoha slyly tried to slip in her own card at the register and Yeoncheong frantically fought her off,
Yeoncheong returned to their seats carrying a combo set of a burger, fries, and a cola.
"You're really not eating anything?"
It felt awkward eating alone in front of her friend, and she felt guilty making her sit and wait — that was all the remark amounted to.
Her worry, however, was groundless.
"Mm-hm. Just watching you eat is plenty for me."
Had it been a month? The sentiment — so different and yet so alike to something Suyeon had once said — made Yeoncheong flinch.
There was a saying that just watching the person you love eat could make you happy. She'd never dreamed she'd become a living example of it.
She peeled back the wrapper, took a big bite of the burger, and started chewing away — while across the table, Seoha rested her chin in her hand and wore a faint, glowing smile.
Silky black hair like woven satin, porcelain skin, and those red eyes set like jewels.
Even setting aside the glances that kept darting over from the people around them, Seoha turned heads on looks alone.
And unlike Yeoncheong, who'd rushed out the door grabbing whatever came to hand, Seoha was impeccably dressed besides.
With that rarely-seen smile on her lips as well, she was quite literally a painting.
The onlookers sneaking peeks were already sighing in admiration inwardly — and Yeoncheong, facing that masterpiece head-on, could barely manage to chew and swallow her burger properly.
Deciding that she'd get indigestion at this rate, Yeoncheong launched a counteroffensive.
"Here."
"Hm?"
At the sight of a single french fry held out to her, Seoha's eyes went wide with surprise.
You keep staring and I can't eat a thing. So eat some fries or something. Hearing her reasoning, Seoha tucked her scarf away beside her like a treasure, parted her lips slightly, and accepted the fry from Yeoncheong's fingers.
"...This is good."
"Right? Have some, then."
Yeoncheong simply wanted to eat in comfort, blissfully unaware of how her hand-feeding might be landing with Seoha.
She figured things were fine now and took another big bite of her burger — and that was when it happened.
"Ahh~"
Like a chick waiting on its mother, Seoha gazed at Yeoncheong with her dainty mouth open wide.
Wondering if she was waiting for permission, Yeoncheong covered her own mouth and said,
"If you want some, just eat."
But Seoha only pointed at the fries and rubbed her fingers together. Belatedly catching on that she didn't want her hands greasy, Yeoncheong moved.
One bite of burger for her, then a fry popped straight into Seoha's open mouth — repeated a few times over.
Yeoncheong filled her stomach solidly, and Seoha filled hers just as solidly — with her own selfish desire.
Having swiftly dispatched their belated lunch, Yeoncheong was wiping her fingertips with a napkin when Seoha held out the cola this time.
"I'll have some."
"Finish drying your hands first."
Seoha plunged the straw deep into what was left of the drink and pushed the cup toward her, urging her to hurry up and drink.
Yeoncheong, glancing nervously around at their surroundings, only then realized just how embarrassing the situation was.
Whether her face went red at this delayed embarrassment or not, Seoha pressed on about her arm getting tired — and Yeoncheong squeezed her eyes shut and leaned forward.
Wrapping her lips around the straw, she took a single sip of the remaining cola and licked her lips.
"There. Done?"
"Did you drink it all?"
"Yeah."
"Hmm... I see...?"
At that nasal, somehow unsteady voice, Yeoncheong looked over at her friend.
Seoha still held the cup, swirling the straw around. A little black liquid pooled at the bottom of the tilted cup.
Seoha met Yeoncheong's eyes once — then curled her lips upward.
The memory from the movie theater flashed back to her, and she shot her arm out in a panic — but the distance between them was hopelessly vast.
Seoha took the straw into her mouth as if it were the most natural thing in the world and drank down the rest of the cola. Then she pulled away and said to Yeoncheong,
"Mm. Cola's delicious."
It wasn't as if Yeoncheong was eating something Seoha's mouth had touched — wasn't the reaction a bit over the top? But since every one of Seoha's moves had been calculated to fluster her, there was nothing to be done about it.
"Again... again..."
"You want to come here together again sometime? Me too."
Seoha smoothly replied to Yeoncheong, who was stammering in shock.
"Come on, let's get up. We walk around a bit, then head to the play — perfect timing."
Rising from her seat first, her friend held out the tray and pulled Yeoncheong to her feet. Still clutching her hand through all of it, as if she had no intention of letting go — Seoha's attitude told Yeoncheong everything.
Today was going to be even harder to survive than that day at the movies. She could feel it in her bones.