Worlds Apart | Ssamkkura

6: Flowers and Strawberries

Chaewon POV

The same bed, but not the same day.

You and Sakura have become closer over the course of one week. It's surprising, actually, because this is the fastest you have ever gotten close with someone.

You have her kindness to blame. After your second day on Raeix, Sakura invited you to stay in her apartment, keeping her promise of helping you find where 'home' is. Not that this is home, or anything close to it, you just– you don't know. You were selfish and accepted her offer.

You can also blame your decision to stay selfish and sleep in her bed with her every night since the first time. You had a small conversation with her about it. She doesn't mind. She says that hugging someone to sleep makes it come easier. You agree with her.

Pulling her closer, you bury your head into the crook of her neck. Breathing in, you smell a mixture of flowers with something sweet that you can't name. Almost strawberries, but the floral scent makes it hard to tell.

Sakura's arm is draped over your waist beneath the blankets. Her body rests against yours, and you should feel unbearably hot, but you don't. This is just right.

The girl takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She's awake.

Because you've woken up before her during most days, you've memorized the things she does when waking up. Sakura breathes in deeply and lets it out slowly. Then, she somehow pulls you closer, like how she does now.

Sakura pulls at your waist, making you press against her more than before. Red paints your ears and you can only hope that she can't see it, because in about a few seconds is the time when she pulls away and gets ready for work. And just as you thought, the girl slips her arm away from you and out of your embrace. You continue to 'sleep', missing her warmth.

Except when she's supposed to be getting up to get ready, you don't feel the dip on the bed leave nor hear the creaking of the wooden floor from her walking. Instead, you feel her stare.

She doesn't usually do this, you accidentally memorized her routine after all.

You pretend to stir in hopes that she looks away. It doesn't work, because she utters a few words and you still feel her stare.

They're not loud enough to hear, but you do catch one word. What a coincidence that it happened to be 'pretty'. The feeling of her stare disappears, and the dip in the bed dissipates.

You don't know what she said. It could have been 'pretty cool', 'pretty annoying', 'pretty sure she hates me' or just... 'pretty'. You don't know which you prefer.

Hearing her footsteps leave the room and the sound of a door closing, you open your eyes. Her room is how it always is: rumpled white bedsheets, open curtains that let the sun's light peek through, an untidy vanity, and an overall tidy room that contrasts her vanity.

Sometimes you would help clean her vanity that is left a mess when she does her makeup, but by the next morning, it's disordered again.

You sigh.

Tossing the sheets off your body, you let your legs dangle from the bed, feeling the chill of the floor. Hands rest on your lap.

'Pretty'. What did she mean?

You push yourself up to stand.

When you hear or even think of the word 'pretty', you can only think of your home. Its beautiful night sky.

A sharp sting to your heart.

"The sky is so pretty."

"Yeah, very pretty."