all my nights taste like gold / purinz

13

THEN.

Her final year of high school is weird without Yunjin.

Chaewon still has Jiwoo and Heejin, of course, and FaceTime and KakaoTalk and Snapchat ensure she still talks to Yunjin and sees her goofy face everyday even if it's through a screen or a selfie, but it's just not the same.

When Chaewon gets made captain of the swim team, Yunjin can only beam and congratulate her through the screen of her laptop, their call cut short after fifteen minutes because Yunjin has a class to get to, instead of leaping onto her in a bone-crushing hug and then dragging her out for bubble tea in celebration the way she did when Chaewon first made the team two years ago.

There's no Yunjin waiting for her in the parking lot after swim practice and cheerleading have both finished, ready to drive them home via Starbucks or the mall, and there's nobody to indulge Chaewon's fondness for Sunday morning walks in the botanic gardens because Heejin refuses to get out of bed before noon on a weekend and Jiwoo claims that that time in the morning is a government conspiracy.

When Jiwoo invites them over for a movie night, the sofa seems much too big for just the three of them. With Yunjin in Seoul and Haseul even further away in Hong Kong on a scholarship at some prestigious business school, there's no one to pull the age hierarchy card when everyone's squabbling over what movie to watch, and there's no one to hog the popcorn or share the blanket or put their cold feet on Chaewon.

It hurts sometimes — aches, on the particularly bad days — missing Yunjin, knowing that a chunk of her heart is miles away in Seoul, but mostly it just feels like Chaewon's going through life a little off-kilter. Like she's constantly missing the last step on the staircase and having to take a moment to right herself each time she automatically turns to where Yunjin should be to tell her a joke or make a teasing comment or ask her to hang out after school.

The longest they've spent apart is one month, the summer during Yunjin's first year of high school when Chaewon and her family spent all of July at her grandparents in Gwangju.

(Chaewon returned to discover that Yunjin had finally shot up to tower a good few inches over her, the persistent remaining baby fat on her face had given way to sharp cheekbones and a sharper jawline, and the sunny days she'd spent helping her cousin with his gardening business for the filthy rich of Cheongju had turned her scrawny little best friend into someone tanned and muscled and hot.)

Now, Yunjin is in Seoul, two hours away by train, and she'll be there for an entire year before Chaewon graduates and comes to join her in the capital. And Chaewon is terrified that Yunjin will realise that with the new life she has and the new friends she'll make, she won't really need Chaewon, and slowly but surely she'll forget about her.

Chaewon blurts this out once, during one of their late night phone calls when it's past midnight and both of them are about to drop off, general drowsiness and the sound of Yunjin's breathing drastically lowering Chaewon's defences.

"Nobody could ever replace you," Yunjin assures her softly. "You're my best friend. I'm not going to find a new one, I promise."

Chaewon tries so hard to believe her. She plays Yunjin's words back in her head every time she sees Yunjin get tagged in a Facebook check-in by someone called Kang Seulgi, every time Yunjin posts a photo on Instagram and tags renebaebae and peachmomo, every time Yunjin sends her a Snapchat of her food or her coffee or a tray of shots and Chaewon can clearly see there's someone else at the table with her.

Chaewon clings onto that promise whenever Yunjin calls her to tell Chaewon about her day and Chaewon feels like she's being left behind, like she's missing out on Yunjin moving on in her life while Chaewon is still stuck in Cheongju, right where Yunjin left her.