Let's Set Some Rules
Just as Song Haneul told me to, I knelt at the edge of the tub and offered up my head.
It felt exactly like sticking my neck into a guillotine.
My water-heavy hair hung limp, and a large hand settled over it. Once the shampoo worked in, a ridiculous amount of foam bloomed and dripped steadily downward.
Just the shampooing was taking this long. Factor in conditioner, a full dry, and treatment on top of that, and it was the kind of routine you only pulled off if you had time to burn.
I'd always wondered why women took forever to wash up. Turns out the hair was eating all of it.
Watching that much time get wasted made me think I really ought to start being more diligent.
I clung to the rim of the tub, bracing my body as it rocked under her hands, and that was when I heard something besides the wet sound of scalp being scrubbed.
Beep. Beep-beep. The door lock buttons.
She'd said she was going out to meet a friend. I'd figured she wouldn't be back for a good while. Never in a million years did I expect her home in under an hour.
My heart hammered. Heat flooded through me. The tension spiked so hard my whole body kept flipping between ice-cold and burning hot.
Neither of us needed to say it. We both shut our mouths and strained toward whatever was happening beyond the bathroom door.
"Aigoo, look at me. I went off to meet my friend without even grabbing the gift."
Mom sounded sheepish as she explained why she'd come back early.
She was probably talking under the assumption we were both around, but this was not a situation where either of us could answer.
Our attention, which had locked on the door, swung back to each other.
We whispered, terrified of being overheard.
"You go out."
"The person who's actually washing should be the one who talks. If I walk out, you sitting in here mid-shower is going to look even weirder."
…She had a point.
"So what, I say you stepped out for a bit?"
"Okey."
"Stay in the tub. I'll go."
"You're soaked."
"Is that really what we're worried about right now?"
"Ugh, fine, whatever."
Getting wet was nothing. Getting caught by Mom looking like this was the real problem.
No matter how close we were as siblings, being in the same bathroom in this state was something any parent would find strange.
Song Haneul climbed into the wet tub and crumpled herself down, pressing flat against the bottom so she wouldn't be visible if the door opened — clothes be damned, however soaked they got.
I twisted the shower on. Head down, I let the water hammer over me like I was rinsing my hair.
"Oh? Someone's in the shower?"
"It's me. Just me."
"Ah, my daughter. Where's Hamin?"
"He's… outside for a second."
The same Song Haneul who usually just called me hey or you suddenly felt like a blessing. If she'd gone and said oppa, I might have slipped and used the word back at her.
We were twins with only a few seconds between us anyway — what did it matter? That old shrug of mine was finally paying off.
"Aaah, Mom just forgot to drop off the souvenir. I'll be off, then."
"Yes, have a good time."
The door opened and shut, and my body simply gave out.
The tension drained so fast my legs went soft under me.
I sank down, breathing in ragged little sobs, and Song Haneul poked her head up over the rim of the tub.
"…Holy shit, that scared me."
"I can't even stand up. You should work out more."
"I'm completely soaked. Damn it."
Song Haneul ignored that and just kept talking, the way she always did. I was used to it by now, so I didn't bother getting hung up on it.
"Rinse your hair properly."
"I am. I got interrupted."
Long hair made even washing a whole ordeal.
The second my posture slipped, the waterlogged mass plastered itself all over my face, sealing my eyes shut. I sputtered and clawed it aside before I could finally open them all the way.
"My heart's still racing. I should wash too."
"Come in after I'm done. Even like this, both of us naked at the same time is a whole different thing."
"I know. When did I say I was stripping right now?"
"Well, no, but—"
"Just put your head back."
"Ugh. Aah—!"
I'd barely finished rinsing when the conditioner hit.
I was freshly reminded that the time-eating demon lived right here on my scalp.
"This is kind of the worst."
"You think I'm having a good time? Then give me my own underwear."
The panties clamped tight around my hips and backside felt completely alien. It was Song Haneul's body and Song Haneul's underwear, but the fact that I was the one inside them made the wrongness impossible to shake.
Song Haneul, though, reacted like I'd committed a crime.
"Putting your panties on my body? Are you serious?"
"…What, are my panties dirty even after washing?"
"Wash— why would you suck—"
"I meant laundry. Wow, are you actually unhinged?"
She seemed to realize how that had sounded and pulled a sheepish face. I'd thrown something on up top to cover myself, but the sour look on her face didn't go anywhere.
"This feels unfair somehow."
Even after we were both clean, the resentment kept rolling in.
I was drying my hair with a sulky expression when Song Haneul finished washing in no time flat and walked out, and the sheer imbalance of it left me feeling like I'd taken a total loss.
One of us spent an eternity just washing and drying hair. The other was in and out like it was nothing. And on top of that, I was looking at my own body through someone else's eyes, which wasn't exactly a thrill.
My body, seen from the outside.
It felt less like looking at a man's body and more like picking out every flaw and shortcoming with my own eyes instead of a mirror. The fact that I'd only ever focused on the good parts when it was actually me probably had a lot to do with it.
"What's unfair?"
"I'm the only one who takes forever and has to suffer through it."
"Did you wash your own hair? I washed it for you."
"If I'd gone any longer my hands would've pruned into raisins."
"Hey, everyone washes that thoroughly. Guys are the ones who finish weirdly fast."
If you chalked it up to the hair difference, there wasn't much to argue. Song Haneul had swapped into this body and washed just as fast, after all.
Even when it looked thorough, comparing the actual time still left me feeling shortchanged.
Drying the hair was its own battle.
Hair that fell all the way to the waist got dramatically heavier the second it got wet. Trying to dry that much soaked weight with a single hair dryer was pure misery.
I'd wondered why the fan was still out even as the weather turned cooler. Turns out this was exactly what it was for.
I sat on the floor and used both the cold air and the warm air to get my hair dry.
"Any idea why we swapped?"
She sat in the chair, arms folded, staring down at me.
I didn't turn off the loud drone of the dryer. I just shrugged.
"How would I know? The only things that stood out that night were the soju and the pizza. I already told you I didn't spike anything."
"I know. I get that. But then what am I supposed to think?"
"I'm just as screwed here, okay?"
I hated watching her act like she was the only victim. Maybe she knew that, because she was calmer than before — a little different.
Was this what people meant by time healing things?
It had been two days since Mom came home, so there'd been time to think. And Mom herself worked like a restraint, keeping things from exploding into a full fight.
Inconvenient, sure. But also, in its own way, a relief.
"What if we still haven't swapped back after Mom leaves? I had stuff I was working on."
I could just wait until it was time to return to school. Song Haneul couldn't. She'd taken time off and was writing with the goal of landing a job at a broadcasting company.
"Build the portfolio first, at least."
"And if enough time passes that I have to re-enroll?"
"Yeah…"
It wasn't a simple problem.
We were headed in completely different directions, so the second the bodies swapped, everything tangled. The one who needed to go back to school was "me" — but the current me wasn't that person. If Song Haneul went in my place, she'd probably carpet-bomb every class with D's. If it came to that, taking a leave of absence would be easier on the nerves.
The catch was that then I still wouldn't know how I was supposed to live.
"We've still got time to think. Let's just watch things until the re-enrollment deadline. If we're back before then, great. If not, we don't re-enroll. Simple."
"When you think about it, does this feel like it's going to last a while?"
Song Haneul's expression darkened a little.
"You've got nothing to go on either, right?"
"True."
"The guy body isn't that bad once you get used to it, so just hang in there. Until then you get to live like a freeloader, and…"
Song Haneul seemed to choke on something and spit the words out.
"What I'm worried about is my body, okay? Not the one I'm in right now. How am I supposed to relax knowing you're in it?"
"Hey. Hey. Don't make that face with that face. It's disgusting."
Whoa. Jesus. That nearly gave me a heart attack.
A guy's face doing that delicate, teary expression was just wrong. People say seeing yourself angry or crying is enough to stop you cold, but I never imagined it would give me actual goosebumps like this.
"That's how little I trust you with it."
She reined the emotion back in with an irritated edge to her voice. At least she wasn't full-on exploding, which was something. Watching her claw her way back toward reason let me relax enough to speak.
"Look, I'm not going to do anything weird. But if you still can't just trust that, we set rules. Things you don't want me doing in this body. Or things you do want. We should both put it on the table, right?"
"No using the bathroom or washing alone without permission."
"…You've lost it."
I needed permission to use the bathroom? To wash?
"Then you do the same."
"I don't care what you do."
Slapping restrictions on her out of pure spite was an option, but nothing particular came to mind.
"Ah — can I just wear my own clothes? Yours all just dig in and feel awful."
"I have comfortable clothes, you know. Here, look."
Since we happened to be in her room, she yanked the closet wide open.
"Am I allowed to just open this?"
"No. You're not."
"Then don't go digging through my closet."
I let out a breath of pure disbelief, but Song Haneul didn't react.
"Stuff like this. See?"
"It's all short. Don't you have anything longer?"
"At home you can wear short stuff."
True enough — but did that mean I had to stay cooped up inside?
"…I'm not going out? When I do go outside, I want to wear something longer."
"Where do you think you're going in my body?"
"I'm not allowed out? A walk, even. I can't live stuck in the house every single day."
"You can survive without leaving the house, actually."
She seemed to think it over for a second, but the answer was already decided.
"Not yet."
"Hey… then what about friends?"
"Can't meet them. Not looking like this. I can't tell you to go meet my friends, and could you tell me to go meet yours?"
"Uh… no."
I'd thought there was nothing left to decide. Then I realized it was only because we'd been like this for two days. The longer this stretched, the more things we'd want from each other — and the more things we'd refuse.
"Give me some paper. Let's just write the rules down properly."
"Living room. It's too cramped in here."
I stood up at Song Haneul's words.
"Put some pants on."
"Ah."
I'd almost walked out in just panties.