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The rain doesn’t stop. It taps the windows of Seulgi’s dorm like it’s trying to find its way in, like it knows she’s unraveling quietly, thread by thread.
She sits on the edge of her bed, arms wrapped around herself, sleeves too long and fingers cold. The ache in her chest isn’t sharp. It’s dull and steady, like it’s been there forever. She doesn’t cry. She never really does. But her throat burns with the effort of holding everything in.
Then there’s a knock.
She doesn’t answer it. She doesn’t need to. Only one person knocks like that, like she already owns the place. Like the door’s just a suggestion.
Jaeyi steps inside without waiting.
No words. No smug grin. No teasing remarks about Seulgi looking like a kicked puppy.
Just quiet. And a stupidly soft, floppy stuffed bunny in her hands.
She doesn’t ask if Seulgi wants it. She just sets it on the bed, kicks off her shoes, and sits beside her.
They don’t look at each other. Not at first.
Then Jaeyi’s hand finds Seulgi’s.
And that’s all it takes.
The tears come silently. Her breath catches once, then again, and suddenly she’s folded into Jaeyi’s arms like she was always meant to fit there. Jaeyi holds her so gently it almost hurts. Her chin rests on Seulgi’s shoulder. One hand strokes slow circles on her back.
Still no words.
Only warmth.
Only presence.
Seulgi doesn’t speak. She doesn’t explain. But she clutches the stuffed bunny to her chest like it’s the last fragile piece of her childhood she never got to have.
Jaeyi tightens her arms around her and murmurs, finally, into her hair, “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
And for once, Seulgi believes her.
Seulgi doesn’t remember falling sideways, but somehow she ends up lying on the bed, curled into Jaeyi’s chest like a child hiding from a storm. Jaeyi lies with her, one arm draped protectively around her waist, the other smoothing her hair back again and again. The room is dim, lit only by the gray light bleeding in through the curtains. Rain still taps gently at the glass, steady as a heartbeat.
“I didn’t know if you’d want me here,” Jaeyi says quietly, after a long time. Her voice isn’t smug or playful. It’s soft. Uncertain.
Seulgi doesn't answer with words. She just pulls the stuffed bunny closer to her chest and nods once, small and tired.
Jaeyi breathes out. A slow, relieved sound.
“I was going to leave it outside your door, just the bunny,” she murmurs, fingers brushing Seulgi’s temple. “But I-I thought maybe you didn’t want to be alone.”
That’s when Seulgi finally speaks. Her voice is barely a whisper. “I never want to be alone.”
Jaeyi doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t mock her. She just shifts a little closer, forehead resting against Seulgi’s.
“You’re not,” she says.
Seulgi’s breath hitches again, but it’s softer this time. She doesn’t cry, not like before. She’s just… breathing. In and out. Slowly, for once, without feeling like every inhale is a war.
They stay like that for a long time.
Wrapped in silence and warmth, a little cocoon of safety in a world that’s always been too sharp, too loud, too cold.
Later, Jaeyi will get up to close the curtains all the way. She’ll bring Seulgi a glass of water, maybe coax her into drinking a few sips. She’ll offer to order food, even though she knows they probably won’t eat it.
But for now, she just stays.
Holding Seulgi through the quiet. Through the softness she never lets anyone else see.
And Seulgi, exhausted, trembling, but finally letting go, lets her.
At some point, Seulgi’s trembling fades. Her breathing evens out, no longer caught between holding back tears and holding herself together. Her eyes are half-lidded, heavy with exhaustion, not just from crying, but from everything. From carrying too much for too long.
Jaeyi notices. She shifts just enough to press a kiss to Seulgi’s forehead, barely a brush of lips, as light as breath.
“Lie down properly,” she murmurs. “You’re going to fall asleep like this and wake up with a crick in your neck.”
Seulgi hums a soft sound of protest, but obeys. She scoots back onto the bed and pulls the blanket over herself. Jaeyi doesn’t even hesitate, she tugs it up for her, then climbs under it too, curling on her side to face her.
“Can I stay?” Jaeyi asks, almost shyly.
Seulgi nods. Then, after a moment: “Don’t leave.”
Her voice is quiet. Fragile. Something that would’ve embarrassed her a day ago. But tonight, it just hangs between them, raw and real.
“I won’t,” Jaeyi promises. “Not tonight. Not ever, if you don’t want me to.”
There’s a long pause. Then, in a voice so soft it might’ve been lost under the sound of the rain, Seulgi whispers, “Thank you.”
Jaeyi smiles. She doesn’t say anything in return. Just gently brushes her knuckles along Seulgi’s cheek before settling in.
Minutes pass. The room gets darker, the world quieter. Seulgi’s eyes finally fall shut, her breathing slow and even. Her fingers, still curled around the stuffed bunny, brush Jaeyi’s hand under the blanket, and instead of pulling away, Jaeyi laces their fingers together.
They fall asleep like that.
Two hearts, tangled in quiet understanding.
No sharp words. No defenses.
Just warmth.
Just safety.
Just them.
It’s well past midnight when the stillness shatters.
At first, it’s just the rustle of blankets. A sharp inhale. Then a muffled whimper, barely audible over the rain.
Jaeyi stirs, blinking in the darkness. Her eyes adjust slowly, but her body knows something’s wrong before her mind does.
Seulgi is curled in on herself, fists clenched in the sheets. Her face is twisted in pain, a tear sliding down her cheek even as she sleeps.
“Seulgi,” Jaeyi whispers, reaching for her. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re dreaming.”
But Seulgi doesn’t wake.
She shakes her head in her sleep, murmuring something broken and frantic, like she’s trying to apologize, or beg. Her voice cracks on a word Jaeyi doesn’t catch.
Jaeyi sits up quickly, gently laying a hand on her shoulder.
“Seulgi. You’re safe. I’m here.”
That’s when Seulgi gasps awake, like she’s been drowning. She sits up fast, breathing hard, eyes wide and unfocused.
Jaeyi doesn’t touch her right away. She knows better. She waits, just close enough.
“It’s okay,” she says softly. “It was just a dream. You’re here. With me.”
Seulgi blinks at her, chest still rising and falling too fast. Her eyes are glassy with tears.
“I- I didn’t mean to-” Her voice breaks. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Don’t say that,” Jaeyi whispers. “I want you to wake me. Always. If you’re scared, I want to know.”
She opens her arms.
Seulgi hesitates, just for a second.
Then she folds into her, like she’s collapsing in slow motion.
Jaeyi holds her tightly this time, both arms wrapped around her, chin tucked into her hair. Seulgi’s breath hitches again, but it’s quieter now. Less panicked. She clutches at Jaeyi’s sleeve like she’s afraid to let go.
“It felt so real,” Seulgi whispers. “Everything falling apart.”
“It’s not,” Jaeyi says. “It’s not. You’re here. I’ve got you.”
They sit like that until Seulgi’s breathing slows, her body relaxing inch by inch against Jaeyi’s.
When she finally lies back down, she doesn’t let go.
Jaeyi tucks the blanket around them both again, their limbs tangled now, forehead to forehead.
“Sleep,” she murmurs. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
And Seulgi, for the first time in what feels like forever, believes her.
The rain has stopped by morning.
Soft gray light filters in through the half-open curtains, painting the room in muted blues and whites. Seulgi stirs slowly, still tangled in warmth. There’s a heaviness to her limbs, but it’s the good kind, like her body finally gave in to rest after too many sleepless nights.
And then she realizes, she’s not alone.
There’s an arm around her waist. A nose nuzzled gently into her hair. A steady heartbeat against her back.
Jaeyi.
Seulgi almost doesn’t know how to breathe.
Her instinct is to pull away. To sit up, pretend she’s fine, brush it all off like always. But when she shifts slightly, Jaeyi only murmurs a sleepy “mm,” and tightens her hold like she knows Seulgi might run, and won’t let her.
“I had another dream,” Seulgi whispers, unsure if Jaeyi’s awake enough to hear.
But Jaeyi’s voice comes soft, immediate. “I know. You calmed down faster this time.”
There’s no judgment in her tone. No teasing. Just care.
Seulgi turns to face her. Their eyes meet, bare, quiet, without armor.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs.
“For what?”
“For being like this.”
Jaeyi’s brows furrow. “Like what?”
“Weak,” Seulgi whispers, hating the word.
Jaeyi exhales. She brushes Seulgi’s hair behind her ear, her touch feather-light.
“You’re not weak,” she says. “You’ve just been surviving alone for too long.”
The words crack something open in Seulgi’s chest.
Jaeyi sits up, only to lean over and press a kiss to her forehead, this time not hesitant, but intentional. “Come on. You need food. And I’m making you tea.”
Seulgi blinks. “I can-”
“Nope,” Jaeyi cuts in gently. “You’re staying right here. Under the blanket. I’m taking care of you today.”
Seulgi stares at her, disbelieving.
But Jaeyi’s already up, padding barefoot to the tiny dorm kitchenette, humming under her breath. She makes instant noodles, of course, because she’s Jaeyi, but she adds an egg and some scallions, and she puts the tea in Seulgi’s favorite chipped mug.
When she returns, she sets everything on the desk and slides onto the bed beside her, handing her the mug first.
Seulgi takes it with shaking fingers. She doesn’t say thank you, but Jaeyi sees it in the way she leans just a little closer.
“You’re not alone anymore,” Jaeyi says, breaking the silence. “You don’t have to do everything by yourself.”
Seulgi looks down at the steam rising from the cup. Her throat tightens, but it’s not from sadness this time.
“I don’t know how to let someone stay,” she admits.
Jaeyi nudges her knee with hers.
“Then we’ll learn it together.”
And Seulgi, held in the quiet warmth of a morning she never thought she’d survive to see, lets herself believe it.
Later that day, the world stays quiet.
Classes are forgotten. Phones left unanswered. The storm outside is gone, but Seulgi still feels like she’s floating in the aftermath of something that cracked her open and stitched her back together all at once.
She’s curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, the stuffed bunny still in her lap like a quiet guardian. Her hair is a mess. Her eyes are still puffy.
But Jaeyi just looks at her like she’s the softest thing in the world.
“You ever watch Totoro?” Jaeyi asks from the kitchen, where she’s rummaging through the cabinet for snacks.
Seulgi blinks. “What?”
“My Neighbor Totoro,” Jaeyi calls again, stepping into the room with a bag of chips and a box of cookies. “Or Kiki’s Delivery Service? Anything Studio Ghibli?”
Seulgi shakes her head. “I… never really watched cartoons. Not the good ones, anyway.”
Jaeyi’s smile softens. “Then we’re changing that.”
She pulls the laptop onto the bed, hooks it up to the Bluetooth speaker, and flops down beside Seulgi. With a few clicks, the opening music starts. Warm, whimsical. Gentle.
Seulgi doesn’t know what to do with the sudden warmth in her chest.
“You don’t have to watch if you’re tired,” she murmurs, but Jaeyi’s already tucking the blanket around both of them.
“I want to. I want you to have this.”
And Seulgi, heart tight, eyes wide, nods.
They eat cookies with frosting. Jaeyi makes hot chocolate with little marshmallows even though it’s way too sweet. Seulgi giggles once, just once, at a scene in the movie, and Jaeyi watches her instead of the screen, like she’s witnessing something sacred.
When Seulgi rests her head on her shoulder and whispers, “This feels like something I should’ve had as a kid,” Jaeyi presses her cheek against her hair and says, “Then we’ll have it now. As many times as you need.”
By the time the credits roll, Seulgi’s eyelids are heavy again. Her body is still healing. But this time, she falls asleep not from exhaustion, but peace.
With Jaeyi beside her.
And a piece of her childhood, finally returned.