We are impossible...[CHAENNIE]

We're friends, right?

The world really is not a factory for fulfillment of desires.

Rose's POV

She smokes. She is standing by the open window, calm, the cigarette is not shaking from nerves, her gaze is directed somewhere into the room, but she does not look at me, rather, she is staring at the wall, deep in thought. I see satisfaction in her eyes, she got what she came for. No problem. Dark hair flows in waves over her shoulders, they are disheveled, or rather, I tousled them when I moaned under her hot, fast tongue some ten minutes ago. Now I'm the last thing she's interested in, she's flicking ashes into an ashtray that I bought especially for her, because I don't smoke myself. Yes, and I hate this habit of hers, but I'm silent, where can I compete with her if no one could, just my heart aches painfully from the realization of how she is slowly killing herself. Suicide is not only about severed veins, a stranglehold on the neck or a fall from the roof.

She puts out her cigarette, bites her lower lip slightly, and then lies down next to me. I want her to kiss me. She does not do this, turns on her side, with her back to me. I hug her, press her to my naked body and inhale her smell, disgusted by the fact that it has mixed with tobacco, I wrinkle my nose, but I do not let her out of my hands. She doesn't push away, even relaxes, but doesn't say or do anything else. Well, that's even better.

She's wearing my black T-shirt, it's too big for her, but that makes it look even more charming, and it's not very fresh yet and it smells like me. But what should I think about it if tomorrow I wake up alone again, and this piece of fabric will be lying on the edge of the bed, because she will never take the memory of the night with me into her real life. By morning, the T-shirt will be soaked in her smell, and I will throw it together with the bed linen in the washing machine, express washing. It's only half an hour, but that's enough time for Jennie's scent to disappear from my apartment... until next time.

-Did she come again?

I tear my eyes away from my reflection in the mirror, attempts to cover up fresh hickeys with foundation fail, I look at Lalisa who entered the bathroom. She works in this cafe, where I go every morning for my favorite latte, "유쾌 한 유리" (cor. "Glass of cheerfulness"), that's what it's called. However, we met not here, but at language courses, when I just moved to Korea from Australia, my parents did not burden me with learning my native language, and Lisa came from Thailand, and did not know anything at all except "hello". We quickly became friends, sat next to each other in class, watched dramas or went to the cinema in our free time, we were the same age and had the same view on many things, so we almost never had disagreements.

She knows about Jennie, more precisely, she knows more than the others about our nights together. I trust her, I know that this will remain between us, she has never let me doubt herself. Lisa is neat, her shape is perfectly ironed, her long black hair is well styled, her bangs are straight and neat. Well, definitely take pictures on the cover of a magazine. Actually, that's why she came to Korea, but so far she has only a couple of contracts with several publishing houses and a part-time job in a cafe, although it's better than nothing.

I'm not far behind her, I look pretty good too. It's not that I suffer from excessive narcissism, but the compliments of others, nevertheless, maintain self-esteem at the necessary level. The only annoying thing is the stupid hickeys left by Kim. She wasn't particularly gentle when it came to sex, as if she dumped all the accumulated emotions on me, even burst into tears once during the process. Strange, because I climbed herself. Jennie didn't even care that I was performing in a restaurant on Friday evenings to Sunday, and her marks were not at all welcome, because today was the very day when most people wave their pen at work and go to have fun.