put not your trust in men or devils - not idols!college!supernatural!dreamcatcher (tw: horror)

[ec.li.ps.e]

summary:

the moment i close my eyes, it's black / i'm left all alone

It was supposed to be a fun night out. They were supposed to have a few drinks, hit the town, have fun with Handong before she returns to Wuhan for two weeks.

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

It was never supposed to end like this.

(link to ao3 here; i'll post the first part in the reply immediately after so that i can like, work within the post constraints)

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

chapter 1: trap that tightens around me

Either it’s raining really hard, or Gahyeon’s already that drunk, but there is something affecting her vision. The colorful city lights blur together; faces are little more than flesh colored blobs, impossible to tell apart. Her limbs feel detached from her body. Her head feels submerged in a fishbowl.

“...Get her to the car,” someone says. Their voice is muffled, but familiar.

Gahyeon swivels her head around towards the voice, but isn’t helpful. She squints at the amorphous face in front of her. “Hmm…?” she says, stretching her hand out. “Whuzzat?”

"She’s not good,” says the shape in front of her. “Gahyeon…? Can you hear me?”

The voice sounds very familiar now. Yoobin, presumably, puts her hand on Gahyeon’s and squeeze. “What’s up, unnie?” Gahyeon chirps with a stupid grin on her face.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Yoobin says. She lifts up a hand, or at least it presumably is a hand. It looks like she’s wearing mittens.

Gahyeon screws up her face. “Seven?” she guesses, then shakes her head. “No, no, wait. Five?” She giggles and lifts up her own hand. “How about me?”

Yoobin doesn’t respond. Gahyeon weaves back and forth impatiently. “Maybe I should get her home,” she says. "This is… not good."

"I'm fine," Gahyeon protests, and she takes a step towards Yoobin. Her legs nearly slip out from under her. "Whoops-"

The first person who spoke - Minji, definitely Minji - sighs. "You're right. Shit. How did this happen? We watched the drinks."

How did what happen? Gahyeon thinks. All I had was a drink. She tries to take another step, but the ground isn't beneath her foot, and with a lack of grace unbefitting a musical theatre major, she plummets to the ground. She doesn't even try to catch herself; by the time she's registered that she's falling, she's already been caught by Yoobin. "Whoops," Gahyeon chirps, and giggles into her friend's shoulder. "Where'd the ground go?"

"Excellent question," Yoobin mumbles, maybe. Gahyeon genuinely can't tell what she's saying. She could have said anything in the world. "Siyeon, do you want to come with us? That way you can drive back. And we don’t have to leave her alone.”

"Where're we going, Yoobin?" Gahyeon asks, leaning her head against her shoulder. "Yoobin. Yoob." She laughs. "That's fun to say. Yoob."

Another blurry figure joins the ones surrounding her, and this one speaks. "Relax, Minji," they - Siyeon? - say. "I'll bring the car back with me, promise." Then, she turns and walks out of sight.

Minji mumbles something that is swallowed by the fishbowl around Gahyeon’s ears. Gahyeon ignores it and pokes a finger into Yoobin's shoulder. "You didn't answer the ques tion," she slurs. "Where are we going ?" She leans even more heavily on her friend and begins to slip once more.

Yoobin readjusts her grip so Gahyeon finds it easier to stand upright. “We are going home ,” she says. “Ow.”

“Aw.” Gahyeon pouts. “But the night just started…!”

“Not for you,” Yoobin replies.

The younger girl tilts her head up and stares at her. Yoobin doesn’t seem mad. If anything, she looks concerned, which is weird, because they’ve gotten drunk together before. “Did I do something wrong?” she asks, drawing her eyebrows together.

“No,” Yoobin says, and she pats Gahyeon’s shoulder.

“But someone did,” Minji says. She presses her hands to the side of her head.

By this point, there are more blobs surrounding them. Gahyeon tries to guess which one’s which before they can speak. Somehow, she manages to get them wrong. “Is everything alright?” Yoohyeon’s voice says from the body Gahyeon had guessed was Handong. Their faces are just flesh colored shapes.

Minji shakes her head.

Handong speaks from Bora-Blob’s body. “Oh, no,” is all she says.

"It’s a good thing we got outta that bar,” Bora says.

Gahyeon tries to push herself away from Yoobin and stand on her own. “Guys, I’m fine ,” she slurs, and then she flashes a double thumbs up. “You’re the ones who’re blurry.” She grins and takes a step forward. And misses.

This time, no one catches her. Concrete and pebbles bite into her arms. “Owie,” she says, without rising. She feels a hand on her back, then many hands, and then she’s being pulled upright. She blearily blinks up at her friends, swinging her gaze from form to form. “I missed the ground again.”

Yoobin sits next to her and shrugs her black-and-white flannel off. Potentially-Bora puts her hand on Gahyeon’s shoulder. “Well, you’ll be home soon,” she says, with a sort of laugh. “That means you can at least lie down.”

Yoobin drapes the flannel over Gahyeon and leans back. “You need the padding more than me,” she says. Instinctively, Gahyeon grabs the hem and holds it tighter around her, like she’s wearing a cloak. She glances down at her arms, which are scraped up and dotted with pebbles. Unsurprisingly, her tank top did absolutely nothing for her. She giggles.

The car rolls up, its tires scraping on the road. Gahyeon squints at it without recognizing it at first; eventually, Yoobin stands. “Are you gonna come back, or should we all go home?” Yoohyeon asks from somewhere behind everyone.

“I’m staying with her,” Yoobin says, with a lopsided shrug. “I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night, anyway.”

“We still have to get dinner,” More-Than-Likely-Bora says. “We got outta there as soon as we could, before our food even got there.”

Minji tilts her head. “Maybe we should just grab takeout or something on the way home.”

“ Please , let’s not.” Siyeon’s voice is difficult to makeout. “McDomnalds makes me wuuh.”

That was definitely not right. Gahyeon shakes her head to try and clear it.

“I second that,” This-One’s-Clearly-Bora says. “Last time we did that …”

The rest of her sentence is unintelligible gibberish. Gahyeon shakes her head again. When she opens her eyes, the world has tilted sharply to the left. Maybe she’s not okay after all. She shivers and clutches Yoobin’s flannel tighter around her.

“....Decide and come back,” Yoobin says. She glances at Gahyeon, then does a double take, presumably; her entire body is blurring in and out of focus, and little details are getting easier and easier to miss. “We need to get going now. ”

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

Gahyeon opens her mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a little moan. The world’s begun to spin, rapidly. She holds her hand out, and three different hands come out to grab it. She gratefully falls into them.

Someone is speaking, but their words are getting buried. Then many people are speaking, and there’s too much happening at once. Gahyeon finds herself being guided towards the car by someone. She watches the door open. She stares at it.

“Up you go,” Yoobin says, and this is loud and clear. Gahyeon doesn’t register sliding into the car until she’s in it, and then Yoobin is next to her and the door is shut.

“How much did I drink?” she slurs. She is stretched out in the backseat, leaning awkwardly against Yoobin’s side. She can’t reach the seatbelt. She doesn’t want to move anymore. Yoobin lifts her arm and lets Gahyeon rest her head on her lap.

"You did nothing, I think,” Siyeon mumbles.

The car is moving. Gayheon can see the streetlights through the window moving and shifting. “I don’t know how this happened,” Yoobin says. “Did you see anything, Siyeon?”

“I was busy with Bora on the other side of the bar. Didn’t notice anything. You want the radio on?”

Gahyeon shakes her head. “No, thanks,” she says. The light leaking through the windows is hurting her eyes. She presses her hand against them.

“I didn’t see anything, either,” Yoobin says. She runs her fingers through Gahyeon’s hair. “Gahyeon, do you remember anything?”

The distraught one shakes her head. Admittedly, her mind is not very clear right now. She remembers walking into the bar, sandwiched between Bora and Siyeon; she remembers sitting down next to Yoohyeon and Minji; she remembers the bartender complimenting her hair; and then she remembers nothing but plunging into the fishbowl and losing track of herself. “He was kinda cute,” she mumbles, before she’s really thinking.

“Who?” Yoobin asks. “The bartender?”

There’s a noise of disapproval from the front seat. “You need better taste,” Siyeon says.

The turn signal clicks on. It echoes in her brain. Gahyeon whimpers.

“He had an… Interesting face,” Yoobin says. “That’s not a bad thing.”

“Agree to disagree.”

The car bounces over a pothole, almost throwing Gahyeon out of the seat. She squeaks and flails her arm out, grabbing a hold of Yoobin’s seat belt. Or the strap of her shirt. She can’t quite tell. “Whoa!” Yoobin yells, and then she’s holding onto Gahyeon’s stomach. “You have to sit up.”

“You have to drive better,” Gahyeon mumbles. She half rolls back on the seat and makes no effort to get up.

Yoobin sighs and helps the other girl upright, rearranging her limbs like she’s a doll on a shelf. “Whether or not the bartender is cute doesn’t help us figure out what’s going on,” she says. She leans over and pulls the seatbelt across Gahyeon’s body. “Do you remember what you had to drink?”

Gahyeon tries to shrug and instead just flops over so that she’s once again leaning on Yoobin. “Something fruity,” she mumbles. “Your skin’s so soft…”

Yoobin pats her hand. “That’s not helpful, either,” Siyeon says from up front.

“Maybe we can wait until tomorrow before we interrogate her,” Yoobin says. “If she hasn’t forgotten all of this.”

Gahyeon tries to formulate a response, but the words get stuck somewhere between her brain and her mouth.

“At least we caught it before something bad happened,” Siyeon says. The turn signal clicks on again. Gahyeon squeezes her eyes shut.

Yoobin nods. “Something worse, at least.”

Gahyeon whimpers and clings to her friend’s arm.

That’s the last thing anyone says for a while. The car ride drags on and on and on, longer than it felt like it had taken to get to the bar. Maybe it’s just the fishbowl, distorting time and space. Every moment that passes feels longer and longer; every heartbeat feels slower and slower; every breath sends her spinning somewhere out into a different dimension. Her body is no longer her own. Her brain has switched off. Her soul is lifting from her flesh.

And then the car screeches to a halt, and she lurches forward, as does her stomach. Suddenly she is once more present in her body, and her head is spinning and her limbs are shaking and she hopes she can get out of the car before losing what little she managed to eat before going out that night all over the nice interior of Siyeon’s SUV.

How much did I drink? she thinks yet again, as Yoobin unbuckles her seat belt for her and loops an arm around her shoulders.

“You think you can walk?” Yoobin asks, sliding out of the seat. She tugs Gahyeon with her. Gahyeon puts her feet on the ground and staggers, her arms pinwheeling as she tries to stand up straight. “Okay. That’s a no.”

They sort of half walk, half limp their way towards the apartments. At the stairs, they pause - Yoobin turns around for a moment, and then Gahyeon can hear the car backing out of the parking lot. “S-Sorry,” she whimpers, as they begin to get up the staircase.

“Shh. You’re okay.” Yoobin pulls the door open and helps Gahyeon inside. “Whatever’s going on isn’t your fault.”

She smiles. “Thanks,” she says, and then she blacks out.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

When she wakes up, she’s in her own bed, propped up by pillows and still in her clothing from earlier, except for her shoes. Moonlight is filtering in through the window, but the curtains are mostly closed. There’s a dish next to her on the floor that smells… not good. Her head is pounding, but at least she can see.

She pushes herself up on her elbows, rubbing her eyes. Her alarm clock glows with red numbers - 12:15. She’s been out for a while. There’s no sound coming from anywhere. They must be asleep.

She sits up further, and her stomach lurches. She covers her mouth with a hand, but nothing comes up besides a wave of exhaustion and pain. She moans quietly.

“What happened ?” she asks herself, flopping back on the bed. Try as she might, however, her memories of the past several hours are completely blank, except for getting a fruity drink from a bartender that complimented her hair. And then there is nothing but gray.

Wait. A fruity drink. She hadn’t ordered a fruity drink. She never ordered fruity drinks. They made her stomach hurt.

Her eyes fly open in shock, and she almost throws up out of fear again. She rolls over and stares into the bucket next to her. Nothing comes up, thankfully, but she’s shaking, nonetheless. “Oh my God,” she says, her hand pressed to her mouth. “Oh, my God.”

Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. That could be the case. She can’t remember anything, after all. Maybe the drink was just stronger than she anticipated. Maybe she got Yoohyeon’s by accident. Maybe she just hadn’t eaten enough before they went out. There has to be a logical explanation to this.

Her hands are shaking. Except… Yoohyeon didn’t get fruity drinks either, and she’d had a big lunch that day. She should’ve been perfectly fine.

Breathe, Gahyeon.

She breathes in through her nose, inhales the sickly sweet stench of fruity drink laced vomit, and coughs. First, she should try to dispose of that. At least she should get help.

She slides her way to the other side of the bed and wiggles her way out of it, to avoid putting her foot in the bucket. She’s gotta get help with that, if only to let her sleep for the rest of the night.

It’s then that she realizes just how quiet her room is. She looks at the other bed. It’s empty. Handong is not there.

Gahyeon feels her breathing get caught in her throat again. It’s been a couple hours since they went out, and they wouldn’t just kick her home like that, right? If she were blackout drunk - or worse, drugged, but she’s ignoring that thought for now - they would take care of her, right? They were friends, right?

Breathe, Gahyeon.

Of course they were friends. There was probably something going on in the common room, and they just let her rest. She would want to be left alone, and she would let them alone in the same position.

She steadies her nerves and pushes herself off the bed. Her legs are a little shaky, but she can stand. She pauses a moment to let herself breathe before continuing out of her dorm and down the hall.

The first sign of trouble is when there’s only one light on. The second is that it’s eerily quiet.

Breathe, Gahyeon.

She walks out into the common area and pauses at the entryway, leaning on the door. The only person sitting there is Yoobin, who appears to be so engrossed in a book that she doesn’t notice the younger’s appearance. She’s in her pyjamas, but the fact that she’s still out here is odd. Normally she’d be asleep by now.

Gahyeon coughs. Yoobin jumps and stares directly at her. “Oh- Oh, you’re awake,” she says, her face relaxing into something akin to a smile. “How do you feel?”

“Horrible.” Gahyeon smiles drily. “Probably better than earlier, though.”

Yoobin laughs a little, but it just feels forced. “Oh, yes. You couldn’t walk, or talk, or see…”

“I threw up.”

Yoobin grimaces. “You threw up quite a bit, actually,” she says. “Do you need help cleaning up?”

Gahyeon nods and walks towards the couch. “Have they gotten back yet?”

“Nope.” The other girl inches closer to the armrest and pats the seat besides her. “They haven’t texted me for a while, either…” She picks up her phone from the coffee table in front of her and checks it.

That’s worrying. Gahyeon sits down and tries to read off the phone, and Yoobin lets her see. “Something came up,” she reads aloud.

"And that was an hour ago.” Yoobin sighs and puts the phone down. “No one answered any of my texts, except Yoohyeon, and that’s all she said. It’s… Well, here I am.” She laughs and lifts up the book. “Can’t sleep.”

“That makes two of us,” Gahyeon mutters.

“Mm.”

Yoobin returns to looking at her book and Gahyeon stares at the TV. It’s on, but muted, on some animal program. She scoops the remote up and turns it on. “Tonight’s just been weird,” she says again, without taking her eyes off of the screen. A group of kittens are learning to walk. It’s calming to her nerves.

"That’s life,” Yoobin replies.

“Do you know… What happened?” One of the kittens rolls onto its side and mewls pitifully for its mother.

Yoobin shakes her head. “I have a theory, but it scares me a bit,” she says, turning a page in her book.

“You think I was drugged,” Gahyeon says. The mother cat comes on screen and licks the kitten’s side.

There's a long pause before Yoobin closes the book. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure you were drugged."

Gahyeon buries her head in her hands. " Shit ," she says.

There's a hand pressed against her back. "I don't know who did it, but I looked it up. You were either ill or drugged. And it wouldn't make sense for just you to be sick and no one else, especially Handong." Yoobin sighs. "I'm so sorry."

"You didn't do it," Gahyeon mumbles. Breathe. "Don't worry about it."

"You seem better now, at least. I was worried it would be a couple of hours-”

"Let's change the subject." She peeks at the book Yoobin’s got in her lap. “Is that a horror novel?”

Yoobin laughs and flips it over. It’s got one of the edgiest titles Gahyeon’s ever seen off of the internet - Night of the Demon Killers and Other Stories - and a black and white drawing of an old house on the front. “Yes, it is. Something about fictional stress just calms me down, I suppose.” She puts her hand over the cover. “I’ve had this book for a long time.”

That part’s obvious. The illustration is faded, the cover is cracked, the pages are yellow. Gahyeon brushes her hand aside and picks it up. “That’s actually smart,” she says, opening it up and skimming the table of contents. “Makes sense, at least.”

“I’m glad to know I haven’t gone crazy yet,” Yoobin replies. She motions for her to hand the book back. “This isn’t helping you clean your room up, though.”

Gahyeon wrinkles her nose. “I know. I just don’t want to deal with it right now.”

“It’ll only get worse from here,” Yoobin says. She gently takes the book from the younger’s hands and closes it on the coffee table.

“And Handong’s not gonna like it, either,” Gahyeon says. She yawns. “Ugh. Are you gonna help me?”

It’s a bit of a rhetorical question; Yoobin’s already gotten up off the couch. “You don’t look like you’ll be doing it by yourself,” she says. She pats her shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s get it over with before they get back.” And then she turns around and starts walking back towards the rooms. Gahyeon huffs and starts to rise. She is interrupted by the buzzing of the other phone, and then a text notification blooms across the screen.

Yoobin’s too far down the hall to notice it, so Gahyeon leans over to read it. It’s from Bora, in all caps.

[ OH YEAH JUST SO YOU KNOW YOUR GUNS IN THE CAR?? AND LOADED??? ]

Gahyeon jumps and grabs the phone just as the message is replaced by a different one. [ I’ll bring it when we get home, how did that happen? ]

“Gahyeon?” Yoobin calls from down the hall.

Gahyeon panics and puts the phone down. “Coming!” she bleats, and pushes herself off of the couch so fast that it makes her nauseous again. She stumbles down the hall with her mouth in her hand and tries to ignore the message. Yoobin has a gun? she thinks.

How did I not know that?

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

chapter 2: trap that's unavoidable

“I think there’s a pizza place still open,” Minji suggests, looking up from her phone.

It’s just their luck, that the place Bora was thinking about is closed due to illness. It’s also disappointing; the place had excellent BBQ that she’s been craving for the past two weeks. It’s also unfortunate, because every so often one of their stomachs will growl and set everyone off arguing again.

“Let’s just get ready meals from the corner store,” Yoohyeon suggests. “Like, frozen pizzas or chicken.” She’s curled herself up in the backseat quasi-illegally; the seatbelt’s on around her knees.

“That’s actually a great idea,” Minji says. “Except the one near the complex closed… an hour and a half ago.” She groans.

The car slows at a stoplight. Bora watches Siyeon rest her head on the steering wheel - and accidentally sets off the horn. Handong yelps in shock and drops her phone.

“We’re running out of gas, too,” Siyeon mutters, flipping the turn signal on.

“There’s snacks at a gas station,” Bora suggests. “We can survive for a night on ramen and cup mac and cheese, I think.”

Minji whirls around in the front seat and stares at her, with an exaggerated look of pain on her face. “Are you trying to kill me?” she says, and then she grins. “You can’t- Gas station ramen ?”

“It was just a suggestion,” Bora says, with a laugh.

Siyeon spins the steering wheel, and they turn onto Fourth Street for the fifth time. “It’s a good option,” Handong says, shrugging. “It gives us some options.”

“If I turn up dead tomorrow morning, it’s your fault,” Minji says.

Bora looks over at Yoohyeon, who shrugs and says, “I’m just hungry.” She reaches up to the middle row of seats and smacks Handong’s shoulders. “Maybe I’ll eat you.”

“Why me? What did I do?” Handong says, slipping away from Yoohyeon’s hands.

“You’re leaving soon, duh.” Yoohyeon giggles. “And I’m gonna miss you.”

Handong shakes her head. “See, I’ll miss you too, but please don’t eat me .”

Bora rolls her eyes and leans back. It’s getting too late for this, and they are just buzzed enough to make it worse - minus Siyeon, of course, or else they’d be screwed. She twists her head to look out the window, at the passing buildings and streetlights. A few places are still open, with bright neon signs shining out into the road. A brilliant yellow sign proclaims a McDonald’s presence. Another advertises a clothing store. A green sign with a lovely design passes by before she can get a proper read as to what it says; not that she was to worry, she thinks, since they’ll probably be driving back around, anyway. Even so, she turns to look out the back windshield, straining her neck to see.

They’ve passed the sign, but she notices something else instead.

There’s a red car behind them, just like there’s been for the past five minutes.

She turns around and catches Yoohyeon’s eye. There’s a worried look on her friend’s face. “Something wrong, Bora?” she asks.

Bora glances back out the windshield and tries to make out anything about it. The license plate on the front is illegible in the dark, but it’s definitely the same car. She doesn’t take her eyes off of it as they slow again. There’s a bad feeling forming in her gut.

“The closest convenience store is that way,” Handong says. “Like, turn right at the next… oh.”

The car’s already turning left again. “We’re going to be stuck here forever,” Yoohyeon mutters. “Like a time loop.”

“Pull it up on your phone!” Siyeon calls, as they spin into the next road. “Then we won’t miss it.”

“On it,” Minji says.

Handong laughs. “That’s not how you spell that.”

Bora looks back out the windshield. The red car remains behind them. It doesn’t speed up; it doesn’t slow down. It just stays behind them. She bites her lip. “I think we’re being followed,” she says, loud enough to cut through the conversation.

Everyone shuts down. Bora looks over her shoulder at the car again, and then at the other girls in the car. “...What?” Handong asks, her eyes wide.

Bora shrugs. “I mean, I don’t know for sure,” she says, holding her hands up defensively. “But there’s been this red car following us for… the past like, seven minutes.” She shakes her head.

“We’ve been driving in circles,” Siyeon says.

“Turn right at the next light?” Bora suggests.

“...Will do.”

“At least we’ll get to the gas station faster now,” Minji says, and then no one speaks for a while. Bora turns around again and stares out the window. She thinks for a moment, about Gahyeon and the strange way she was acting. She’s been doing her best to avoid it - she’d rather not think about the obvious drugging of one of her friends, or why, even though it’s colored the rest of their evening. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and checks it - the only text is one in the group chat from Yoobin, a full half an hour ago. [ She fell asleep. We’re all okay. ]

Yoohyeon taps her hand. “Is that the car?” she asks, and tilts her head out the window.

Bora follows her gaze as they turn. Sure enough, the red car turns with them, without even turning on their turn signal. A chill runs down her spine. “Uh-huh,” she says with a nod.

Yoohyeon takes a deep breath. “Oh, no,” she says, and she wiggles her knees free from the seatbelt. “We’re being followed.”

“It’s a bit fast to draw that conclusion,” Handong says, although her face is taut. “Right?”

“Your dad’s a cop, right?” Siyeon asks. Bora tilts her head up to see who she’s talking too.

Minji shakes her head. “Yeah, but he’s not awake right now. It’s past ten. He’s never awake at this hour.” She has her hand on her phone. “Should I call the police, though?”

Bora leans forward so she can hear better. “No, let’s wait. We can get to the gas station and into the light and maybe they’ll run off.” She picks up her phone, opens it, turns it off again. “Besides, there’s five of us, and one of them, I think. We’ll be fine.”

“And we have a gun,” Siyeon says. “I think.”

The conversation dies again. “We have a what ?” Handong says, her shoulders hiking up to her ears.

“Yoobin should’ve turned it in to the cops?” Minji says. “This is illegal.”

“Yoobin has a gun ?”

“And that was a secret.” Minji sighs.

Bora exchanges a look with Yoohyeon. Yoohyeon shrugs, a helpless look in her eyes. “When did Yoobin get a gun?” she asks, sliding her eyes away from Bora.

Minji shrugs. “A while ago?”

“Like, a couple weeks,” Siyeon says. She leans across and glances at Minji’s phone. “You’ve seen the news.”

“It wasn’t her idea,” Minji says. “Was it her mom’s idea to break the law, too?”

“I don’t even think she wants the gun,” Siyeon mutters. “Which is why she’s never brought it in the house. I don’t want the gun, either.” She makes another right turn.

“The only one here who knows who to shoot is me, I think,” Minji says. “And… I’m not that good.” There’s a click; Bora watches her pop the glove compartment open, and she squeaks. “Ah, it’s here!” She quickly snaps it shut again.

The car falls silent. There's a gun in the car , Bora thinks, fidgeting with her pop socket. And it's been here for a while, and we are being followed, and might have to use it.

She turns her phone arounds and sends a panic text to Yoobin.

"What a night," Handong says, shaking her head slowly.

"I am so sorry," Minji replies. She twists around and smiles apologetically at her. "This was supposed to be fun."

"It's okay! It's okay." Handong puts her hand on Minji’s. "It's not like I'll be gone for a month or something, just two weeks. And besides, this makes for an interesting story to tell my parents."

"Yeah, if you want them to never let you come to Seoul again," Yoohyeon says, grinning.

"I will not mention the gun, if that makes you feel better-"

"Hey, Mom and Dad, I was stalked while I was away! Also, my friend got drugged! Seoul is a fantastic place and I can't wait to go back!" Yoohyeon laughs.

So does Handong. "I feel like there are better ways to word it."

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

Bora looks down at her phone and smiles. At least they can still joke about it. As long as they can still joke about it, they’re fine. She checks the groupchat out of habit; so far, there’s nothing. That’s good. No news is good news, when it comes to being drugged. She closes the messenger app and opens Instagram. Nothing like mindless scrolling to settle her nerves.

“Here!” Siyeon yells, as they nearly miss the turn for the third time. Her voice jolts Bora away from the meme on her screen. So does the sharp turn she makes. Bora hiccups.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Minji says, giggling. “That was a bit much.” She smacks something.

“This place is entirely backroads,” Siyeon says. Bora can hear in her voice the way she’s rolling her eyes.

“Maybe we should switch the driver when we get to the gas station,” Handong suggests. “I don’t think any of us are drunk enough to warrant a designated driver.”

Yoohyeon sighs. “Or ever were,” she says, shaking her head.

“Look, I know I’m not the best driver,” Siyeon says, as they bump their way over a barely-paved road and towards the one glowing light at the end of it.

Bora leans forward so that she’s right next to Handong and laughs. “We love you anyway, Siyeonie,” she chirps. Handong nods.

Siyeon lifts up her fingers in a heart and glances in the rearview mirror. “Oh, fuck,” she says, dropping her hand. “Is that the car?”

Bora twists her head around and squints. The color is impossible to make out, but the headlights seem to be the same. “Yup,” she says.

The car falls silent again, except for the louder thrum of the engine. The light approaches faster.

“If you hit a pothole-” Handong begins.

Siyeon snaps her hand up. “I won’t if I concentrate.”

Bora looks back over her shoulder, at the car that’s yet to slip away. She licks her lower lip. They really are being followed, at twice the speed limit. Oh, God.

Siyeon swerves into the gas station, and Bora is almost thrown off the seat. The seatbelt presses her into the seat and cuts off her airway for a second. “Jeez-” she coughs.

The car rumbles and bounces up to one of two gas pumps, and there, they stop. The other car slides into the other one and disappears behind the actual pump. Bora doesn't like that. She knows it's stupid, but she would much prefer seeing the car. Then she could see who's in it, see who's driving it, see who's been stalking them-

"So," Minji says.

"So," Siyeon echoes. She drums her fingers on the steering wheel. "Who's getting out of the car?"

No one makes a move. "Nose goes?" suggests Yoohyeon.

"I guess I know how to shoot." Minji pushes the button on the glove compartment and it clicks open. She doesn't pick it up.

Bora shakes her head. "It might be… not loaded," she says.

"Only one way to find out."

Outside, another car pulls up and slips into a parking space, judging from the sound. As one, each and every girl turns their head towards the new arrival. "It's the police!" Yoohyeon squeaks. Her phone bounces to the floor of the car. The glove compartment slams shut again.

"That was smooth," Siyeon says.

"I'm trying to not spend the night in jail," Minji mutters.

Bora trains her eyes on the police car. The driver's pulled into a parking spot and is idling there for just a moment. "You'd get out the fastest," Siyeon says. Minji makes a noncommittal noise.

The door to the police car swings open. "Depends-" Minji says, but she's cut off by Handong's squeal.

"Oh, my God!" The Chinese woman leans forward and stabs her finger at the window. "I know him!" She's already unbuckling her seatbelt. "He can help us, wait-"

That sets everyone off. Bora reaches for Handong's hand. "How?" Yoohyeon asks. She ducks to scoop up her phone.

"Who is he?" Minji says, turning around to look at her friend.

Handong wiggles to the side and puts her hand on the door handle. "His name's Du Shiang," she says. "We went to school together. He told me he wanted to move here, but he never told me he had."

"Are you sure it's him?" Siyeon asks.

Handong nods. "I think I know what my best friend looks like," she says.

Bora looks at the man, who's leaning on the car with a cigarette dangling between his fingers. His head keeps tilting up, then back down at his shoes. He's still in uniform. The sinking feeling in her gut increases.

"A cop will definitely help us," Minji says.

Siyeon nods. "Be quick," she says. "Don't let the stalker see you."

Handong barely acknowledges this, just opens the door and hurries over. "Hey!" she yells, waving her hands.

The police officer lifts his head, then smiles broadly. "Handong?" he says, and then the two of them are conversing in rapid Mandarin that Bora doesn't bother attempting to piece together with what little she's learned. She doesn't lift her eyes off of the pair.

"Thank God," Minji says. "I'm glad that she was right."

The officer waves one of his hands off to the side, drops his cigarette, crushes it beneath his boot. With the other arm, he embraces Handong.

"Aww," Yoohyeon chirps. "It's so nice to see old friends again."

The car on the other side of the gas pump starts to roll away. Bora twists her head around to watch the taillights of the car disappear into the twilight. The strange feeling in her gut grows stronger. She slides her gaze to Siyeon, who's got a weird look on her face that mirrors what Bora imagines she looks like.

She looks back at Handong and Shiang. They seem to be laughing, which is a good sign. At least that means that there’s nothing to worry about anymore. The policeman’s got his phone out, and is showing something to Handong. “Should one of us get food?” Bora asks, already starting to climb over the center console to get out.

“Yeah, yeah, definitely,” Minji says, although she doesn’t sound too enthused. “I need ramen?”

“Mac and cheese?” suggests Yoohyeon.

Bora slips out the door Handong left open. “Sounds good,” she says.

“I’ll get the gas,” Siyeon says.

Handong turns to Bora as she passes. “Oh,” she says. “Are we really getting food here?”

“Might as well.” Bora shrugs. “Minji agreed to it, so it must be okay.”

“Is this your friend?” Du Shiang asks in Korean, thankfully. He smiles at her. It feels a bit too wide.

Handong nods. “Kim Bora, this is Du Shiang- Well, I told you that part already.” She laughs. “Shiang, this is Bora.”

“Bora,” Shiang says. He nods at her. “Good to meet you.”

Bora smiles back, but warily. “Good to meet you, too,” she says. “Yoohyeon wants mac and cheese and Minji’s getting ramen. You want anything else, Handong?”

Handong hesitates before shaking her head. “Oh, that’s okay,” she says. “I’m not even that hungry, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Bora replies. “I don’t mind. This was supposed to be your night anyway.” She gently nudges Handong’s shoulder. “I’ll get something for you.”

Handong rolls her eyes. “Your night?” Shiang asks, lifting one of his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” she says, with a shrug. “Tomorrow night I’m heading home for a bit, nothing special. They’re just making a big deal out of nothing.”

The police officer tilts his head. “Oh, well, when you will be back?”

“The fifteenth.” She smiles. “Nothing happened with my family, don’t- don’t worry about that.”

He nods and leans back on his car, then slips back into Mandarin. Bora’s limited knowledge proves absolutely useless at the speed he’s talking. She settles for looking into the door of the gas station, which appears to be empty, from this angle.

Handong looks surprised. “O-Oh,” she says before she trails off into an awkward giggle. The conversation continues in Mandarin. It’s annoying. Bora steps back and hops onto the sidewalk. She’ll just let her friend go for now.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

She pulls the glass door open and tries to ignore the voice niggling in the back of her head. There’s no reason for her to suspect anything; Du Shiang hasn’t done anything suspicious except wave his hand. She grabs a basket from the rack right next to the door and holds it with white knuckles. God, she’s tense. She combs her fingers through her hair. Handong’s a good judge of character. She’ll be fine.

Bora looks around at the cramped gas station and the tightly packed aisles filled with various foodstuffs. The only other person here is the cashier, who’s hidden behind a rack of questionable magazines. She ignores him for now and sweeps a box of ramen into the basked. At least she has something tangible to focus on now. What does everyone want ?

Five minutes later, the basket is laden with salty snacks and entrees, and she’s standing in front of the cold drink section, her finger tapping her chin, wondering whether or not it’s a good idea to pick up those energy drinks Gahyeon likes. It would be a nice treat, but Bora isn’t sure whether it would sit well with her stomach. She opens the fridge and pulls out a brilliant purple can, twists it around and skims the label. All natural. Should be fine. She shrugs and puts it in the basket.

“Hey,” Handong says from somewhere to the left. Bora jumps.

“Oh, my god.” Bora smacks her hand over her mouth. “You scared me.” She laughs and smacks Handong’s shoulder.

Handong waves her off. “Didn’t mean to do that,” she says. She peers over Bora’s shoulder into the basket. “That’s a lot of junk.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me it won’t be gone within a week,” Bora replies. She opens the fridge again and scans it before selecting an iced tea. “Even without you here.”

Handong feigns offense and presses her hand against her chest. “How dare,” she says. “Just because I like candy-”

“You want a drink?” Bora grabs a fruity soda and a sparkling water and places them in the basket.

Handong shrugs. “Lemonade’s fine,” she says.

Bora nods and puts a bottle in the basket. “What did Shiang say that spooked you?” she asks, finally stepping back and letting the door swing shut.

Handong doesn’t answer that for a bit, just turns around and picks up a piece of fruit from the bin behind them. Bora turns as well and doesn’t take her eyes from her friend, as if to pressure her into answering.

Handong puts the banana down and sighs. “It’s… He just very suddenly asked if we could meet up tomorrow, like, he’d come get me, before the flight.” She shrugs. “He said there was something he needed to show me, but didn’t say what.” She picks up an apple and examines it. “And then he got very intense, and it just… felt like I didn’t have a choice.” She hands it to Bora. “I told him I was going to be busy, but I did give him my number…”

“Oh.” Bora picks up another shiny red apple and drops her gaze.

“Yup.” Handong shakes her head. “Yup…”

She puts another fruit in the basket. “I think we have enough,” Bora says. Handong makes a noise in agreement, and the two start weaving through the aisles to get to the cash register. The cashier has a cigarette dangling from his lips and barely lifts his eyes when Bora drops the basket on the counter. Lazily, he starts to scan their items.

“I’m glad to see him again,” Handong says. She scratches at her wrist. “He was literally my best friend in high school. We helped each other through a lot. And I’m very proud of him for moving out and becoming a police officer, like he always wanted to do.”

Bora waves, and Handong steps aside so that she can put her card into the reader. “Did something change?” she asks.

“Wanna bag?” the cashier asks, without removing the cigarette from his lips. The longer that she stands there, the more she doubts that it’s just a cigarette. She nods.

“Clearly,” Handong mutters. She reaches into the basket and snatches her lemonade before it’s put in the bag. “I can’t tell what it is, but he’s not the same. And, don’t get me wrong, I’m not the same. I didn’t expect him to be, either, but this is… He’s off.” She twists the cap off the lemonade bottle and takes a sip. “And it’s not good.”

“Have a nice night,” drawls the cashier as he hands the plastic shopping bag to Bora. Bora nods and cradles the bag as they walk out.

Handong sighs. “I might just be overthinking. This whole night has been a mess .” She waves her hand to emphasize the point. “At least we’re going home, now.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bora says. She drops the basket by the door. “We all need to sleep. Reset, recharge, rest. Thank God we don’t have classes.”

Handong laughs. “You forget my flight,” she says.

Bora nudges her side. “That’s not till the evening. We have time.” She slips into the car and dumps the bag unceremoniously into the seat between her and Yoohyeon. The other girl looks up from her phone and down at the bag.

“What’d you get?” she chirps, poking the plastic bag and peering into it. “Oo, cheese puffs.”

“Was it your friend?” Minji asks Handong as she’s pulling the door shut.

Handong hums. “Yeah, it was him. He gave me his number.”

Minji whistles. “That’s great, Handong,” she says, turning back around.

Bora picks up her phone and checks it. There’s nothing there. And then, there is.

[ oh shit ] says Yoobin. [ please don’t. i’ll explain later. ]

“Did you get sushi?” Siyeon calls from the front. Bora pushes the thoughts of the gun from her mind and tries to settle down.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

chapter 3: cinnamon

Yoobin wakes up the next day to sunlight filtering through the drawn curtains. She winces and puts her hand over her eyes. It’s too bright right now. She’s overslept.

Minji, from the bunk below, snores rather loudly. Yoobin leans down and squints at the alarm clock on Minji’s night stand. It’s difficult to read from here, but it looks like it’s ten-something-or-other. She sighs and rolls onto her back. It makes sense, of course; she didn’t get to bed until two last night, what with helping Gahyeon clean up, and then having a cobbled together midnight dinner of ramen noodles and chips, and then helping Gahyeon clean up again. It wasn’t the best night, to say the least.

She sighs and rolls upright, combing her fingers through her hair. It could always have been worse. There was an awkward conversation that she’s avoiding having, partially due to the need to help Gahyeon. Yoobin should check on her, make sure she’s okay. Hopefully, the drug, whatever it was, is out of the younger girl’s system by now.

She eases her way to the edge of the bunk and twists around to slip down the ladder as quietly as possible. Minji lets out a loud honking snore and rolls over as she passes. Yoobin smiles and puts her hand on her mouth. Sometimes she wonders how she sleeps at night.

She grabs a giant black hoodie from the hook on the back of the door and heads out. As she shuts the door, she hears Siyeon mumble, “No, you’re not the thief, it was…”

Yoobin rolls her eyes. At least this feels normal. Perhaps things have finally settled down.

She heads down the hall towards the bathroom, passing the other dorm in this hall as she walks. She hesitates for a moment, at this door, behind which Gahyeon and Handong should be sleeping. There’s no sound from within. They must be fast asleep in there. Good. They both need the rest. She brushes her fingers on the doorknob, and then moves past it.

The sound of the shower from the bathroom surprises her. No one else seemed awake; no doors were open, no sounds were heard. Someone’s singing, too, quietly, and Yoobin only realizes that it’s Handong after she opens the door, and only after the water slowly trickles to a halt. Yoobin hears the shower curtain open and clears her throat. The other woman yelps.

“It’s just me!” Yoobin says, her face splitting into an uncomfortable grin. “Relax.”

Handong laughs from the other side of the room and pops her face out of one of the curtains. “Oh, Yoobin- Oh, my god.” She covers her mouth with her hand. Her eyes have bags underneath them. “My God, you scared me.”

Yoobin shakes her head slowly. “I thought you were asleep,” she says. “Hold on, I’ll let you… Clean up.” She takes a step backwards and moves to shut the door.

"It’s alright. You can’t see anything, anyway.” Handong pulls her head back behind the curtain and sighs. "Sorry, I'll hurry up."

Yoobin continues to back out of the room. "Take your time," she calls. Then, she pauses for a moment and puffs out a sigh. Handong… Does not look well, to say the least. Yoobin combs her hair back and goes to wait in the common room.

To her complete and utter lack of surprise, the room is a mess. Chip bags and plastic containers that once held mac and cheese are scattered all across the table, the remnants of Minji and Yoohyeon, most likely. Yoobin sighs and tosses her hoodie on the couch, which is thankfully free from debris. She doubts they're gonna wake up in time to clean the mess. She starts collecting the trash to throw it away.

"Jesus," Handong says, softly, from the entrance to the room. Yoobin jumps; she hadn't heard the woman approaching. She's wearing a fluffy yellow bathrobe. She comes closer, and Yoobin winces at how hollow her eyes look. "We really left a disaster, didn't we?"

Yoobin shrugs and stuffs a pair of plastic forks into the discarded chip bag she's using as a trash collection vessel. "You expected anything else?" she says, a half smile creeping onto her face.

Handong has to laugh at that. "Not particularly," she says. She sweeps her damp hair over her shoulder and moves to help.

Yoobin puts a hand on her wrist. "I got this." She tilts her head towards the couch. "Why don't you go sit down?"

"Jesus, Yoobin," Handong mumbles, rubbing her face with her hands. "Don't be stubborn."

"You look like you need the rest." Yoobin sidesteps so that she bumps Handong out of the way. "I'm amazed you're awake right now."

Handong pauses for a moment, then seems to relent. She rounds the coffee table and stretches out on the couch. "Sorry. I just… couldn't sleep." She leans on her hand. "I had too much going on…"

Yoobin scoops a Cup-a-Noodle's bowl into the bag and struggles to jam it in. "Yes, I can imagine. Last night sounds like it was- tough." By some miracle, the bowl breaks, and she fits the two pieces into the bag much easier. "Of course, I don't think I know all the details. But you don't have to talk now, if you'll be uncomfortable."

She looks at the other woman, who's drawn her eyebrows together in an expression of deep thought. Her gaze is fixed somewhere on the middle distance. "Actually, I would like to ask for advice." She stops talking.

Yoobin nods and sweeps some crumbs into the bag.

"Okay." Handong sighs. "If… If… Well, okay. Say you ran into your best friend from high school again."

Yoobin nods again. "I wouldn't want to, but go on."

Handong laughs, but it feels more reflexive than anything else. "Yes, I understand. Imagine you did, though." She straightens up. "And you were so excited to talk to them again. And like, they were so successful, and they were achieving their dreams, and you were so, so happy for them." She pauses, flexes her fingers, sighs. "But… But it just. Something's wrong. Does that make sense?" She shakes her head. "I don't know. The entire thing felt wrong."

"I see." Yoobin tosses the bag into the trash can and comes to sit down next to Handong. She balls her hoodie up and sets it in her lap. "That's what happened?"

Handong nods. "Basically. I got his number, or rather, he gave me his number without me asking. He seems determined to get us to hang out today, before my flight. It took most of last night to tell him off. And that's just weird, right? Like I'm not overreacting?" She looks away. "I mean, sure, it's been a couple of years, but I'm only going to be gone for two weeks. And yet, he was talking like he was going to die tomorrow. That's how intense this was." She shifts back and forth. "I'm worried, just a bit."

Yoobin nods.

"Don't get me wrong, I want to talk to him again." Handong sighs. "Just not like this."

"When's your flight?" Yoobin asks.

"Nine PM."

"Just tell him that you're busy today, no matter what he might say." Yoobin leans forward and starts to get up. "You will be, anyway, so you're not lying."

Handong sighs. "It's not that easy," she says. She leans her cheek against her hand. "He's insistent. The only reason he isn't texting me now is because he's asleep." She picks at the tie of her bathrobe. "Lord. I've never been happier to be going home."

Yoobin nods. “You’ve earned this break.” She tucks the hoodie underneath her arm and combs her fingers through her hair. “Take it easy today, alright?”

She starts down the hall towards the bathroom, and Handong laughs behind her. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Yoobin’s almost successfully down the hall when she hears someone scrabbling down the hallway. “Shoot!” Yoohyeon says. There’s a banging noise from the kitchen.

“Good morning?” Handong offers.

“I forgot I had a paper due last night, can’t talk, panicking, oh no-”

Yoobin rolls her eyes playfully.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

The last person to get up is, unsurprisingly, Gahyeon, yet she’s the one with the most energy, even right off the bat. Yoobin finishes up the last bit of school work that she had left and leaves her room to find the youngest practically interrogating Handong, with a piece of paper in her hand.

“Toothbrush,” she says.

“Definitely. I put it right into my bag after using it this morning,” Handong replies.

Gahyeon checks something off the list. “Okay. Toothpaste.”

“My parents have toothpaste, Gahyeon.”

“Just in case you get like, stuck at the airport or whatever. Like last time.” She checks it off anyway.

Handong puts her hand on the paper. “I think I’m okay,” she says calmly. “My parents definitely have everything on this list. They’re my parents, not a hotel. And I’m not gonna get stuck. Relax.”

Gahyeon puts the pad of paper down. “Yeah, you said that last time, and then you were gone for six months-”

“What are you doing?” Yoobin asks. She picks up a clearly forgotten mug of coffee on the other side of the coffee table out of habit.

“Making myself useful,” Gahyeon says.

Handong rolls her eyes. “So she says.”

Gahyeon offers the paper to Yoobin. “I don’t see what’s wrong with this,” she says, pointing down the list.

“I already did all of this, though.” Handong laughs. “I appreciate the concern, Gahyeonie, I really do, but you can relax.”

Yoobin takes the cup of coffee back towards the kitchen. Minji pops her head out from by the stove. “Want to help?” she says, blowing a strand of hair out of her face.

“What’re you doing?” Yoobin asks. She peers around the corner and stares at the pot Minji’s got a spoon sticking out of.

“Making a mess,” Siyeon laughs. She’s leaning against the counter, shaking her head. There’s some sort of sauce splashed all over the place.

Minji takes the spoon out and points it at Siyeon. More sauce splatters; Siyeon narrowly avoids getting hit. “I was doing fine until you showed up and distracted me,” she says. She drops the spoon back in and stirs some more. “It was supposed to be pasta. It’s kind of just… Food now.”

Yoobin inches past them and dumps the mug into the sink, which is miraculously empty. She rinses it out and leaves it on the drying rack. “I mean, it smells like food,” she says. “What do you need?”

“A test dummy,” Siyeon says. She reaches over and flicks the stove off. The bottom of her sleeve - which is white - is dropped into the pot. “Dammit!”

Minji drops the spoon and covers her mouth to keep from laughing. More sauce splashes, splattering the two of them equally. “Oh, no ,” she wails, and then she’s laughing harder.

“This was such a nice shirt,” Siyeon says. She makes a noise sort of between a laugh and a cry.

Yoobin tries to wipe some of the mess off, but the stain only spreads. “Oops,” she says. “It’s a cooking shirt now!”

Siyeon reaches for the spoon and the pot and drags them across the stove, away from Minji, who’s laughing hard enough that she’s stopped making sense. “We barely have any brunch left,” she says, scraping some of the food together.

“We can just eat your shirt,” Minji says. She tries to wipe her face, but only smears some more. “Jesus. This is a disaster .”

“Hurricane Spaghetti,” Yoobin says. “On the bright side, we have bleach somewhere .”

“There’s enough for three people,” Siyeon says. She grabs a set of bowls from the cabinet above the stove and pours some into the first one. It’s not even spaghetti. "Here’s for you, Yoobin.” She twists around and hands a bowl behind her. “And here’s mine. And here’s…” She sets the pot in the sink and picks up the bowl. Minji turns to reach for it and Siyeon sidesteps her. “Handong, you- Oh, hi, Bora.”

“Hey,” Minji whines. “I made the food…”

Yoobin opens the silverware drawer and starts rummaging through it.

“What are you doing ?” Bora says. “My god, it’s like something exploded.”

“Want some?” Siyeon says.

Yoobin finds a fork and shuts the drawer with her hip. Bora leans forward and squints into the bowl Siyeon’s holding. “What is it?” she asks, wrinkling her nose a bit.

“It was supposed to be pasta,” Minji says.

Bora shakes her head. “I think I’m good, right now, but you can save me some.” She gestures towards Yoobin. “Hey, Yoobin-ah, we’re out of cinnamon .”

Yoobin drops her fork into the bowl. “Ah, are we?” she says. She sets the bowl on the counter to her left.

“Yeah. Think we could head out and get some, like, now, maybe?” Bora stuffs her hands in the pockets of her jeans.

Yoobin nods. “Absolutely. You can have my share, Minji.” She nods at Bora. “Do you want to drive, or should I?”

“You can,” Bora says with a shrug. She turns around and starts towards the front door.

Minji whistles when she’s out of earshot. “Haven’t heard that in a while,” she says.

“Yeah, couple months. What was last time?” Siyeon tilts her head.

“Intervention on Yoohyeon’s grades,” Minji says.

Yoobin sighs. “This is gonna be a fun conversation,” she says.

Minji puts her hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be fine. Yoohyeon probably has questions too, and Handong, and well, you’re gonna have to explain eventually.”

Siyeon nods. “It’ll be fine. Once you mention your dad -”

“Yeah, I got it,” Yoobin says. She smiles. “It’s overdue anyway. I’m amazed it was a secret for this long.” She finishes this sentence with a pointed look at Minji, who looks startled and holds her hands up defensively.

“Me?” she bleats. “I’m pretty good at keeping secrets!”

Yoobin shakes her head slowly. “See you later.” She starts to head out, crossing the common area as she goes. Bora is nowhere to be seen. Gahyeon and Handong have stopped converse. Gahyeon’s staring at Yoobin.

“Oof,” she says. “Cinnamon coded.”

Yoobin ignores her and grabs the keys from the bin by the door.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

chapter 4: to charge a phone

“You know, despite the mess, I think we got a pretty successful lunch out of this,” Siyeon says. She has a wad of paper towels in one hand - and a brand new, bright red shirt on her back. “You seemed to enjoy it.”

Handong nods. “Yeah. It was nice. What did you use?”

Siyeon shrugs. “Oh, you know. Leftover vegetables. Some chicken. Minji picked the sauce.”

“Well, it was good, no matter what. Are you sure you don’t need help cleaning up?” Handong asks. She reaches for the cleaner Siyeon’s holding in her other hand.

Siyeon swats her hand away. “We’re good, promise. You gotta rest some.” She sprays some more fluid on the stove and scrubs at it. “Jeez, when was the last time anyone cleaned this?”

Handong watches her for a moment more, before Siyeon glares at her and forces her to walk away. She attempts to go sit back down on the couch, but she finds that her seat has been taken by one Kim Yoohyeon, lying face down and groaning.

“Are you alright?” Handong asks.

“My head hurts,” Yoohyeon whines, though her voice is muffled through the pillows.

Handong perches on the arm of the couch and sets her hand gently on Yoohyeon’s head. “Did you get that paper done?” she asks.

Yoohyeon nods. “Badly,” she says. She starts to roll over and pushes Handong’s hands out of the way. “Why did I major in English again?”

Handong laughs, covering her mouth. “Aw.”

“I’m gonna drop out and become an idol.” She stares at the ceiling. “Wanna join me?”

“Absolutely.”

Yoohyeon grins and frames her head with her hands. “Take a picture for my wiki page- Kim Yoohyeon, leader of… Of…”

“Wouldn’t I be the leader?” Handong says. “I’m older.”

Yoohyeon pretends to pout. “C’mon, you gotta give me something . We could set a precedent. Reverse maknae.” She grins. “Maybe I could change my name, ooh…”

Handong slips gracefully off of the armrest and grabs for her phone. “Can’t wait to tell my parents that I’m dropping out to become a K-Pop star. They’re going to be so pleased at all the money they’ve thrown at me.”

Yoohyeon laughs. “Oh, watch this. Hold on. I can be dramatic.” She sits up and crosses her legs, one arm stretched out behind her and one leg kicked up into the air. It’s ridiculous in the oversized Sanrio hoodie and poofy slides she’s wearing. Handong grins and hits the home button to open it. And nothing happens.

“Hm.” She holds the power button down for a bit.

“Is it dead?” Yoohyeon says. “I can’t do this for much longer.” She curls her leg up under her.

The screen flashes up with the low battery icon, much to Handong’s bewilderment. She sighs. “Yeah, it’s dead. I’ll be right back.”

“Moment’s passed, won’t be funny anymore,” Yoohyeon says. “I’m gonna resume my wallowing.” She flips her hood up and pulls the drawstrings until there’s nothing visible of her face except for a tiny strand of hair.

Handong darts down the hallway and into her and Gahyeon’s dorm. Gahyeon is lying on her back, playing some game on her Switch. “Oh, what’s up?” she asks, barely looking up from the screen.

“Have you seen my charger?” Handong asks. She goes to her bed and leans towards the power outlet. There is one brick plugged in, but no cord attached to it.

Gahyeon shrugs. “Did you put it in your bag?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t even remember plugging my phone in last night, to be honest.”

“Yeah, you were up late,” Gahyeon says. “Even worse than me.” She freezes and sets her Switch on her chest. “Wait.”

Handong sighs. “No wonder it’s dead.” She glances over at her roommate. “What?”

Her roommate squeezes her eyes shut. “Well, I might have given it to Minji.”

"You gave my charger to Minji?”

Gahyeon sits up. “Well, Yoohyeon lost hers, so Minji had lent her her own, but then she needed a charger, and I had been using yours since I think Siyeon took mine, and I didn’t think about it and gave it to her. We only have like four chargers, dude.” She looks pointedly at the ceiling, stretches, fidgets. “Maybe check with her?”

Handong shakes her head. “I’ll just buy a new one. We need to buy them again soon anyway .” She sighs and glances out the window. The sky’s gray and overcast. It doesn’t bode well for a flight later.

“I can give you money, if you need it.”

“It’s like, nothing.” Handong laughs and looks back at her roommate, who’s already reaching for her nightstand. “I think I can pay for this.” She turns around and pulls the drawer of her dresser open. “I’ll just go now so I can make it quick.”

Gahyeon flops back on the bed with a thwump . “Might rain some more,” she comments.

Handong pulls a carefully folded hoodie from the drawer and wriggles into it. “That’s why I’ll make it quick. A little rain won’t kill me, anyway.” She pulls at the collar until it’s in a more comfortable position, pats her collarbone, and picks up the mask on top of her dresser. “Twenty minutes, tops.”

“Mm-hm!” Gahyeon chirps, without really sounding like she’s paying attention. “Ah, fuck-”

Handong lets the door shut before she can figure out what the younger’s yelling at. She hurries down the hall and stops at the front door to grab a pair of slip on sneakers. “I’ll be right back,” she says to Yoohyeon, who’s still the only one in the common area.

“Huh?” Yoohyeon asks. She pops her head up from the couch. “Where’re you going?”

“Gotta buy a charger real quick. Won’t take long.” She slips her feet into the mules.

Yoohyeon makes a noise of agreement and disappears back into the cushions. Handong smiles and hurries out the door.

She sets off at a brisk pace, keeping one eye on the clouds overhead. It’s a bit nerve wracking to be heading out without her phone, especially when she’s trying to avoid a coming storm. Well, judging from the clouds, not a storm, but at least an annoying drizzle. A cold breeze blows past, and she stuffs her hands in her pockets. A nice warm coffee sounds fantastic as well.

The streets aren’t super busy, despite it being early afternoon. She passes only a couple other people. It feels sort of odd, especially for a Saturday. She pauses at a street corner and waits for the light to turn green. Perhaps the weather’s going to be worse than she thought.

Her mind wanders to her upcoming flight. She wonders if she’ll get home on time. Her mom’s going to be waiting at that airport for at least two hours before she gets home. She would hate to make it longer.

The light turns green just as a car tears by and bounces off the opposite curb. Handong stumbles backwards, grabs onto the light pole for stability. “Oh,” she says, and her heart pounds into her throat. She stays back while a police car goes past, at a similar pace. “Okay…?”

She decides to wait until the next green light before going ahead. No one else seems to have noticed. Or at least, no one else seems to have cared. She takes a deep breath and continues down the sidewalk.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

It’s only a five minute walk to the corner store, but the strange quiet makes it seem so much longer. She relishes pushing open the door to the little shop and hearing tinny music leaking from the speakers. She lets out a sigh of relief.

There're approximately three people in the store, counting the two cashiers. Handong slips between the aisles and picks up an iPhone cord from the back rack, smiling reflexively at the person she passes by. They stare at her over their mask. Handong flinches involuntarily and tries her best to ignore them as she heads over to the trio of coffee machines.

The cashier behind the counter hands her a Styrofoam cup, and she stares at the three machines and their various flavors before selecting the hazelnut blend. She dumps two sugars and two creamers into the cup and hits the button to pour the coffee. It smells good, even around her mask. She grabs a coffee stirrer to use as a makeshift straw.

There’s a tap on her shoulder, as she pops the lid onto the cup. When she turns around, she nearly spills the coffee down her shirt.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Du Shiang says, and his face splits into an enthusiastic grin.

Handong holds her other hand over her mouth, dropping the charging cord. “Oh my god,” she says, before laughing awkwardly. It hurts her to get it out. “You scared me.”

Du looks apologetic. He stoops to pick up the box. “Didn’t mean to,” he says in Chinese. “I’m just a little surprised, is all.” He offers the charger back and smiles softly, his eyes crinkling a little. “Here. You don’t look so good.”

She takes the charger. It’s definitely just her imagination, but she feels like she’s being trapped. She takes a step back and bumps into the coffee counter, decides to use this as an opportunity to collect herself. “I didn’t sleep much last night,” she says. She chooses not to accuse him of anything and settles on avoiding looking at him.

“Ah. My fault, no doubt.” He chuckles drily. “Look. Sorry, I was just enthusiastic. I mean, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

She nods. “Yes, it certainly has.” She turns to step around him and towards the cashier.

Except she doesn’t get that far. He steps in front of her. “Lemme make it up to you,” he says, holding one of his hands in front of her. “I’ll pay for this. It’s not much, but it’ll be something.”

She hesitates. “Oh.” She looks down at her cup of coffee and off brand charging cord. It can’t be more than six thousand won. She could find that in the couch cushions in the common area, or in Gahyeon’s pillowcase. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I insist,” Du says, and that smile on his face feels a bit more unnatural. It isn’t in his eyes. He reaches and plucks the charging cord out of her hand. “It’s the least I can do.”

He walks off towards the cash register, leaving Handong behind with a gaping mouth and a hot cup of coffee. “I-” she says, and then she hurries to follow him. “Look, Du, you-”

“Thank you for your business,” says the cashier. “Have a good day.”

Handong snaps her jaw shut. Du positively beams at her and hands the cord over to him. “You’re welcome,” he says.

She takes the cord from him and stuffs it in her jacket pocket. “Alright,” she says. “I guess.”

There’s a long, awkward pause; Du lowers his gaze. “What’s wrong?” His shoulders drop. “You look tense.”

“Just tired,” Handong says. She taps the top of the coffee. “Once I finish this, I’ll be fine.” She quirks the corner of her lips into a small smile and hopes that it is enough to convince him.

He nods. “Ah, that makes sense. I’m the same way with my caffeine.” He laughs and waves his hand.

She laughs too and starts looking for a way out. Suddenly, the corner store feels very, very small. She side-steps. “Well, thank you anyway,” she says, bowing her head slightly. “I’ll see you-”

“Ah, it’s raining,” Du says, and Handong feels something in her chest snap and sink into her stomach. “Looks like the storm’s here early.” He crosses towards the window and stares out the window. “That’s good for your flight, isn’t it? Better that the rain comes earlier rather than later.” He taps the glass.

Handong swallows. “Yeah. Sure is.” She walks towards the other window to see how bad it is and winces. It’s raining hard enough to be downright bad, especially if it leaks through the charging cord’s box, or waters down her coffee, or makes a big enough puddle to get her splashed by a passing car. She wishes she had a working phone - at least then she could text Bora or Yoobin and ask to be picked up when they’re finished. But she doesn’t, so here she is, stuck and unable to drink her coffee.

“When is your flight? You didn’t tell me last night.” Du looks at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Nine PM.”

He hums. “You need to get home, then,” he says. “Get ready to check in and all of that.”

She looks at the rain. “Yes,” she says. “Hopefully the rain will let up soon.”

“Did you walk?” Du turns to look at her and tilts his head towards the parking lot.

She nods. “It isn’t far,” she says.

“Let me guess. You’re a student in the dorms.” He laughs a little.

Handong stares at him, her eyes widening involuntarily. “Why, yes, in fact, I am.”

“Relax, I’m not stalking you. We just get a lot of calls from that area.” He snaps his fingers. “Would you like a ride? I know the area pretty well.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Handong says. “The rain looks like it’s letting up soon, anyway.”

Du shakes his head. “It’s really no problem,” he says. “It’s only two minutes down the road.” He points at a police cruiser parked close to the entrance. “Come on. You seem tired, anyway.” He steps to the door and puts his hand on the handle.

Handong stares at him. She’s never noticed just how tall he is until now, when he’s looking down at her. She sneaks a glance towards the cashiers, neither of who seem to be paying attention. She wonders how long it’s been since she left, exactly.

“Alright,” she says, after a long pause. “Just as long as we go straight home. I really don’t have time for anything today.”

Du nods and pushes the door open. “Home,” he echoes. “Let’s go.”

Handong pauses in the doorway, flipping her hood up while she waits. She watches him hop down the steps and unlock his car door. He waves his hand, beckoning her forward.

"Alright," he says, as she comes towards him. "Off we go." He twists the key in the ignition. "You can take your mask off, I'm not sick." He unloops the mask from his ears. "Drink your coffee in peace. Don't worry." He grins at her.

She swallows and slips into the passenger seat, gripping the Styrofoam cup so tightly that it bends. "Yeah," she says. She puts the cup into the cupholder at her side. "Thank you."

"No." Du shrugs and starts to pull backwards, out of the parking spot. "Thank you ."

"For… what ?" Handong asks. She stares out the window, watches the raindrop come down. Then, the car turns left, and she snaps her gaze back to the driver. "Hey. The dorms are that way."

He hums. "I know."

"So, you're going the wrong direction-"

"Have you ever talked to God, Handong?"

He stares at her, and any trace of smile has disappeared from his face. She flinches away from him and curls her hand into her chest. "Wh...What?" she stammers.

"You heard me." Du drums his fingers on the steering wheel, as if he just asked her how her day was. "Have you ever talked to God, and had him answer you?"

Handong swallows. "I can't say I have," she says. "Why do you ask?"

"Because… I have ." Du's lips curl into a grin, but it's cold, uncaring. "Because he's spoken to me and told me his will." He slows at a traffic light.

She blinks at him. "That's… Wonderful for you," she says. She slowly, so as not to get his attention, reaches for the lock on the door.

"It is . It is fantastic ." His voice is tremulous. "And he wants me to show you."

She puts her hand on the lock and runs her thumb over it. "Me," she says. She clicks the lock as quietly as she can.

He nods. "Yes, Handong." He turns to look at her, his eyes wide with some unknown emotion. " You ."

"That's very interesting," she says. "But surely there's a way to wait? I'll only be gone two weeks." She puts her other hand on her seatbelt buckle. "Seriously, I can't-"

"You can't?" He laughs drily. "You can't interfere with God."

She darts her eyes to the traffic lights; the green lights have changed to yellow. She's running out of time. "Maybe you misunderstood," she suggests, and then she clicks her seatbelt undone and slams against the door, her hand on the handle.

Except she's too late. Du slams the button on his side and the doors lock again. Handong smacks her head into the window and gasps. "No, you misunderstood," he says. "You've never had a choice."

She opens her eyes and touches the tender spot on her head. The car lurches forward. Du's looking at her softly. "I'm sorry," he says. "I wish that it didn't have to be like this." He turns his eyes back to the road. "If it were a week ago, this would be different."

"But it doesn't," she says, and this time she tries to roll the window down. It doesn't budge. "You could just let me go. We could continue this later. I promise to listen, but after I come back. I promise ." She clicks the lock again. The car doesn't seem to be moving too fast. It's gonna hurt, but she could theoretically jump. She takes a deep breath.

"Unlock the damn door again," Du mutters. "I dare you." Any trace of apology has vanished from his voice. Handong drops her hand from the door handle.

"Let me go," she says. "Please."

He shakes his head and grips the steering wheel with white knuckles. "Ten minutes, and then you can go." He hits the door lock button once again. "If all goes well."

If all goes well.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

(didn't mean to post it twice oops)
chapter 5: chase me
"It's the gun, right?" Yoobin asks, as Bora shuts her door.

The way she says that - defeated, sort of like she was expecting it - surprises Bora, who looks away. She waits for Yoobin to turn the car on before talking. "Yeah," she says. "It's about the gun."

"It wasn't my idea," Yoobin says. She spins the steering wheel and backs out of the parking space. "I just… Last break, when I went home, my mom pulled me aside and…" She sighs, drums her fingers on the steering wheel. "She told me that this area-" she waves one hand around in a circle- "was getting dangerous for, quote, 'girls who look like me,' and-"

"What does that mean?" Bora interrupts. She turns to Yoobin with a baffled look on her face.

Yoobin shrugs. "Didn't bother asking. I'm not sure I would want to know. There's really only two things it could mean, and one of them is my father."

"Ah." Bora’s eyes widen. "That's not good, right."

Yoobin shakes her head. "It isn't." She leans over the steering wheel and checks for cars. Bora decides to stare straight ahead. "I told my mom that I didn't want it, but she kept insisting. She just went on and on about how worried she was for me - which I love, I would rather her worry than simply not care at all."

"Yeah, I get that," Bora says. She studies very carefully the billboard in front of her, which is advertising some sort of insurance company.

"I feel like I wouldn't have had to take it if my step-dad hadn't gotten involved." They turn onto the main road. "I was more surprised when he took her side. Long story short, a week later when I was driving home, there was an illegal gun in the glove compartment, and it's basically been there ever since."

Bora glances down at the glove compartment and touches the handle delicately. "How did you keep it secret?"

Yoobin laughs. "I didn't. Minji learned within a week." She's sort of smiling, which is odd, Bora thinks. "Luckily it was our turn to do the groceries, so I could explain before she freaked out, although that didn't stop the freak out, more delayed it." She shakes her head. "She gets it. Which is how no one else found out - well, no, Siyeon knew, but… Does any of this make sense?"

Bora scrunches her face up while she thinks. "I… No. For a whole bunch of reasons."

"Ask away."

"First, how the hell did you get Minji , who is lawful good , to be okay with this ?" She starts to count on her fingers. "Second, you have a step-dad? You never told me this. Third, why can't you get it registered again? Fourth-"

Yoobin holds one of her hands in front of Bora's face. "Slow down. We have time to get to all of them." She returns her hand to the two o'clock position on the steering wheel. "First, I… Really don't know." She shrugs hopelessly. "I just told her the truth - that this probably had something to do with my father, and that I'd get arrested if I turned it in, and that it's probably my mother's anyway, and that I didn't want to bring it in the house and that I was gonna do my best to never use it and then return it next time I saw my mother." She pauses. "Also, I gave her thirty thousand won, but only after she started crying.

"She was crying ?" Bora interrupts.

"That part wasn't my fault. I will take responsibility for everything else, but she was not crying because of me." Yoobin sighs. "It took her awhile to accept it, to be honest. There was a period of a week or two where she wouldn't talk to me."

Bora nods. "Ah. Yeah, I remember, that was… awkward. That was why?" She tilts her head. "I had no idea."

"No one did. I am as surprised as you are." Yoobin shrugs. "I was almost certain that I'd have to tell you all then, instead of, what, two months out?" She turns left. "If there's one thing that Minji does, it's keep her word. Which is why I'm glad we're still friends, after that."

"When did Siyeon find out?" Bora asks.

Yoobin blows out a breath. "Shortly after that," she says. "She asked Minji what had happened, and then refused to let me not tell her when Minji didn't." She slows down as a police car approaches from the other direction, just in case. Bora puts her hands on the glove compartment reflexively. Nothing happens.

“For future reference,” Yoobin says, “don’t do that. It just looks suspicious.”

Bora pulls her hand back and puts it on her lap. No position that she rests it in feels natural anymore. “Okay, that’s that, I guess. Next question. Have you always had a step-dad, or am I the stupid one?”

The younger girl laughs. “You’re not stupid,” she says, and she smiles - genuinely, not some sort of half-grimace. “I just don’t talk about him much. Or the rest of my family.”

“Yeah, you have good reason to.” Bora’s phone buzzes, and she pulls it out of her pocket. “It’s from Yoohyeon in the group chat,” she says. “Handong went out, apparently.”

Yoobin squints at the sky. “Now? It looks like it’s gonna rain any minute now.”

“I dunno. Yoohyeon didn’t say. Third question.” Bora lifts her hand so she’s showing three fingers. “The registration issue.”

Yoobin’s face falls. “That’s… Really complicated, Bora,” she says. They slow at a stop light, and she leans her face in her hand. “I don’t even think the gun itself is registered. It’s clearly American, my mom couldn’t answer where she got it, it could be my father’s, I don’t need to explain that I don’t have a license…” She sighs. “I could get thrown in jail, my mom could get thrown in jail, my brother, too. Any of you, as well, if they found out that you knew - though that wasn’t as big of a problem until last night. Not that it wouldn’t be horrible if Siyeon or Minji went to prison, of course. There’s just more of a risk with six people instead of two. Does that make sense?”

“Not really, to be honest,” Bora replies. “But none of it makes sense.”

Somewhere behind them, police sirens start blasting, and both of them stiffen up. “Maybe let’s keep going this way,” Bora says, and Yoobin just nods, doesn’t say anything.

“Besides, I’m gonna give it back within the next two weeks anyway,” Yoobin mumbles. “It’d be pointless to start the process now, anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Bora replies.

That’s the last thing anyone says for a while. She turns her gaze to the window in an attempt to find something interesting to look at. The streets, however, are empty; perhaps the threat of rain is chasing them away. She sighs and leans on her hand. The eerie quiet is only contributing to her unsettled mood. She glances over at Yoobin, who is scanning the roads for traffic with the intention of turning, and then away again. Yoobin hasn’t been lying - Bora knows that for a fact - but there’s something that she’s leaving out. That part’s obvious. Despite the handful of conversations they’ve had about their pasts, Yoobin’s never mentioned anything other than “my father’s a bad person” and left it at that. It’s unnerving to know so little.

Especially when there’s a gun sitting directly in front of her.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

“I have another question,” Bora says, without taking her eyes from the window. Rain’s begun to fall in a light drizzle. She traces the path of the raindrops with her eyes.

“Ask away,” Yoobin says, turning left for the fourth time.

The rain has already gotten harder. It won’t last long. “When did you learn to shoot?” she asks, finally turning to look at her companion.

Yoobin holds the steering wheel just a bit tighter, making her knuckles turn white. “A long time ago,” she says.

“How long ago?”

Yoobin doesn’t respond. They drive past the entrance to the apartments. “Don’t recall,” she says eventually. “It was… a long time ago.”

Bora sighs and sits up. “Seriously, that’s-” she begins, but then she sees the police car next to her and shuts up. “Never mind,” she says, starting to lean back.

And then she sees the face in the passenger seat. “Holy shit,” she breathes, her hand on her phone. “Is- Is that Handong?”

Yoobin startles. “What are you talking-” she says. Bora points at the window and leans forward to get a better look.

The woman in the car turns around, and presses her hand to the glass, and Yoobin slams on the brakes. Handong is definitely sitting in the car next to them. There’s a panicked look on her face. She rubs her forehead and looks away. Bora smacks Yoobin’s hand. “Oh my God, Handong’s in a police car,” she says. “How did-”

“Hold on.” Yoobin shakes her head slowly. “She’s in the passenger seat. She can’t have been arrested.”

Bora leans back and frowns. “You’re… Yeah, that makes sense.” She rubs her face. “Her friend, he was a cop, too… But then why does she look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like she’s about to start crying.” She reaches for her phone. “I’m gonna tell the others.”

They stop at the same stoplight. Yoobin taps her fingers on the steering wheel. “This doesn’t feel right,” she says. “This just…” She trails off. “Wasn’t her friend a cop?”

Bora nods. “The one we met last night? Yeah.” She peeks at the car next to them. “He was kind of a weirdo. Something about him just… It didn’t feel right. Wait.” Suddenly, her heart has started jackhammering in her ears. “That could be him in the car with her.”

At the last second, Yoobin flips the turn signal on. Her face is set in this rock hard line, her hands have gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, her shoulders are unnaturally stiff. “It’s gotta be,” she says. They turn when the car in front of them does. “There’s no one else it could be.”

“Are you following them?” Bora says, and she reaches for Yoobin’s hand. “Are you crazy? We could get ki-”

“Not if Handong’s in the car, we won’t. No one’s stupid enough to kill three people in broad daylight.” Yoobin sounds determined. “Besides, we just have to follow them. We don’t have to get out.”

Bora digs her fingers into Yoobin’s wrist. “Maybe we should just call the police ourselves. We can see if there’s anything suspicious going on.”

“There’s definitely something suspicious going on.”

"I don’t wanna die , Yoobin. Or get arrested. Orsome horrible combination of both.”

She watches the police car make a sharp turn towards a ramp. Yoobin relaxes and continues straight ahead. “Fine,” she says. She pulls over to the side of the road, but doesn’t take her eyes off the ramp. “This isn’t right. This can’t be right. Handong was talking to me earlier, about her friend and all of this. There’s no way this is going to end well.”

“I’m gonna call someone,” Bora says. “And then we’ll go from there.” She grabs her phone from the door, her eyes trained on Yoobin’s face the whole time. The younger woman’s face is difficult to read.

“Sounds good,” she says after a while.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

chapter 6: freeze, part one
Handong loses track of time very quickly, sitting in the front seat of this car. The rain starts coming down hard enough to blur any familiar sights - or maybe that’s her vision. She can’t tell. She doesn’t know when she started crying, but she does know that Du hasn’t noticed yet. Or maybe he has and he’s ignoring it. She can’t say for certain. She can’t say anything for certain, except that she’s in a car, and she’s been in the car for more than ten minutes.

Du pulls off the highway somewhere by a forest. “Alright,” he says. His voice has dulled, lost that fervor from before. He slams the car into park. “We gotta walk the rest of the way.”

Handong doesn’t move. She curls her fingers into her knees. “Where are we going?” she says. Her voice is shaking. She tries to breathe steadily, but it’s impossible to hide that she’s been crying.

"You’ll find out eventually.” He takes the keys out of the ignition. “Come on.”

He gets out of the car. She doesn’t move. Her eyes stay trained on the tree trunk in front of her. The driver’s side door shuts.

Maybe he’s walking away, some part of her says, except that doesn’t make sense. He isn’t in sight, though. She takes a deep breath and lets herself move to wipe the tears from her cheek. Sitting here, doing nothing, stalling, it’s not going to get her anywhere. Better to cooperate for now. She still doesn’t move.

Her door opens and Du leans down to her level. “Hey. Get out of the car.” He puts his hand on his belt.

“Tell me where we’re going,” she replies, turning to look at him. It’s hard to keep eye contact, because his gaze burns with something almost akin to madness that Handong does not want to think about for too long.

He shakes his head. “Can’t do that,” he says. He reaches into the car and tilts her head up. “Are you crying ?”

She doesn’t respond, just flinches away from him. It burns, burns, burns. She flicks her eyes back and forth, looking around, searching for an exit. Theoretically, she could kick up, knock him down, and run. She could take the keys from him and use them as a weapon. She could take the keys and steal the car. She could do anything, and all of her muscles are screaming at her to move, but she can’t. She’s stuck. She swallows.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Du says, snapping her out of her thoughts. “C’mon. Choice is yours.”

She remains like a statue.

Du sighs and unhooks his handcuffs from his belt. “I really didn’t wanna do this,” he says. He grabs the collar of her hoodie and pulls her out of the car with enough force to make her yelp. Panicked, she sticks her arms out to the side, to try and regain her balance. He grabs one of her wrists and pulls it behind her back. She spins; her foot slips on the wet ground under her. Maybe he gives her a push, maybe she imagines it.

Next thing she knows, she’s on the ground, her cheek pressed into the cool dirt. Du’s holding her left arm against her back. Her right arm joins it with a loud pop .

She whimpers.

“That sounded like it hurt,” Du says, lifting his weight from her back. He hooks his hand around her bound wrists and pulls her rather roughly upright. Pain shoots through her right arm every time she moves, every time she breathes. She spits dirt from her mouth. “Relax,” he says. “I’ll get you to a hospital as soon as we get done. Are you going to cooperate, Handong?”

Handong doesn’t really think anything right now. Her mind is foggy, broken here and there by sharp, throbbing pain. She twists her muddy face to look at him blankly. Du smiles back at her, a wide grin. “Okay,” she says. If she fakes it, she’ll get out of here alive. And relatively intact.

He marches her forward, jostling her shoulder. She gasps.

“It won’t get worse from here,” Du says. It sounds like it should be soothing. It has the opposite effect.

They walk through the rain and the trees for some time. It’s impossible to tell how long. She feels like she’s floating, and there’s nothing around her to tether her down. No voices, no birdsong, nothing but the steady drumming of the rain and the squeak of wet ground under her feet and the occasional electric jolt down her entire arm. Her thoughts have begun to loop. Stay quiet and calm. Quiet and calm. Quiet and calm. Quiet and calm. At least she’s not crying anymore.

Out of seemingly nowhere in the trees rises the dark, squat structure of a forest cabin. It’s made of dark planks and covered with vines and moss. A red cloth covers the windows. It seems to have been there for a long time.

"Here we are,” Du says. He pulls out his ring of keys again and flips through it. “Ten minutes. I just have to show you something.”

Handong doesn’t realize she’s nodding until she’s halfway through the motion. It unnerves her, the building she’s standing in front of. The way that the windows are covered, that the porch bows and creaks as they walk across it, that the house is so isolated remind her too strongly of the horror stories she’s indulged in far too often. She half expects to be thrown forward into an endless black abyss when he pushes the door open. Instead, she’s greeted with a surprisingly cozy looking hallway, with a gold runner on the floor and electric lanterns on the wall. A little cabinet sits on the right side and is dotted with knickknacks and photographs. Du steps aside and lets her go first. “Welcome to our home,” he says, gently.

“Our home,” Handong echoes, craning her neck to take in all the details. To her left is a little sitting room, a bear rug on the floor, a fireplace, and big plush chairs. Straight shead is a staircase and a huge opening that can only lead to more rooms. It certainly feels like someone’s home.

“I share this place with a friend of mine,” Du says. “It’s the perfect place for us. We don’t get bothered by people, we can work in peace.” He tosses his keys into a little cup on the cabinet. “Do you like it?”

Handong takes another step forward, looking around. Sure enough, right in front of the staircase is an area that opens out into a little area set up as a dining room. There’s an open door leading into what’s presumably the kitchen in the corner, and a door leading to either a bathroom or a closet on the other side. Everything is brown or red or orange. Everything just feels so cozy. “It’s nice,” she says. “You live in the woods.”

He laughs. “It was my friend’s idea.” His hand goes on her other shoulder, the one that doesn’t ache anew every few seconds. “Just like it was him who found… Him . Come, upstairs is what I want to show you.”

He steers her towards the narrow staircase, and she obeys. None of this makes sense. Perhaps it’s the dissociation. She tears her gaze from a taxidermy deer head mounted just above the decently-sized curved screen TV so she doesn’t trip and finds herself looking directly at a huge, ornately carved, oddly colored hunting knife framed and hanging at the top of the stairs. She jumps and nearly falls down the stairs. Du catches her. Pain tears through her arm again. "Something wrong?" he asks, righting her.

"Just a little startled, is all," she replies. She winces. "Could you un-cuff me?"

"No."

He guides her up to the top of the stairs and around, down a hallway. A large window overlooks the woods around them. The rain has only gotten harder. He pushes her onwards, and she forces herself to look straight ahead. Just cooperate , she reminds herself. You’ll be fine.

He leads her to the very last door; the walls seem to get smaller as they walk. He pauses, his hand on the doorknob. “Close your eyes,” he says, a weird smile on his face. “I want to surprise you.”

She obeys. She doesn’t feel like she has a choice.

The door squeaks open, releasing the oppressive smell of hospital-grade cleaner and underneath that, some sweet metallic tang that she can’t place. There’s a hand on her goo shoulder, pushing her forward. She takes a step, another step. The scent is making her nose itch.

“Open your eyes,” he orders.

This room is dimly lit, compared to the rest of the house. It has no windows, and only a single lamp dangles from the ceiling. Handong scans the walls - bare - and the floor - covered by one worn rug, of an unknown color - before finally staring at the table in the center. Lying atop of it is very clearly a skeleton, perhaps a dog or a fox judging from size, with the head missing and the ribcage stuffed with flowers. Some are dead, some are dying, some are weirdly alive and colorful. It is surrounded by candles in various colors and shapes and sizes. None of them are lit. Mounted on the wall just above the dog is a long hunting knife. This one is oddly shiny, as if it had just been cleaned.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

“What do you think?” Du asks. He sounds excited, like he’s showing her a piece of art of a manuscript. Maybe this is art to him. Handong turns to look at him, swallows the fear in her throat. His eyes are wide. Anticipation leaks from every orifice.

She wants to speak, but her mouth won’t move, her breathing is shallow, her head is spinning. She shifts, takes a step back. “What did you do ?” she whispers. “What is this?”

“This-” Du parries her, stretches his arms out wide- “is only the beginning. This is art, this is poetry, this is what He wants from me, Handong.” He smiles, a wide grin that seems to cut his face in two. “This is death and life, nature and nurture, blood and sweat and tears, and-and-and…” He brings in his hands to his fast, curls them into fists, laughs - or sobs, or something like that. “It could be in my hands, Handong. It could be in your hands.” He comes close, far too close for comfort, and cups her face in his. She’s never described him as looming before.

She shakes her head. “You’re mad , Du,” she says. “Did you kill the dog?”

“It starts with a dog and it ends with the world,” he says. He drops her face. “He wants more from me, and I can’t do it alone. We could be the gods of a new world, Handong.” Shakes her shoulders. She whimpers. “ Gods . Do you understand me?”

“No!” she says. She tries to wriggle away from him. “No, I don’t understand you. Who is he? The voice in your head?” He only holds her tighter. She wonders if she could break the handcuffs. She probably can’t.

“I have been given a divine duty,” Du says, the smile on his face vanishing like that . “To fix this world. There is only one way to do that, Handong - end it all and start over. If you come with me, we will become gods. We can remake the world how we want it. Do you not want to join me?”

If she refuses, she will die. If she accepts, she will kill. There is no right answer. There is nothing she can do. So she does nothing, and just stares at him, desperately scanning his face for anything, any part of him that she can reach out to and pull him back from this hell he’s fallen into. She squirms in his grip. “Do… Do you remember, when we were kids, and we’d play in the woods?” she ventures. “And we’d spend hours there, building little forts and pretending to be king and queen of our own little kingdom, and then when we were done, we’d kick everything over and start fresh the next day?” She watches his face flicker and she presses harder. “Don’t you think that it’s time to that here? Kick everything over and start all over again?” He lets go of her, takes a step back. She smiles shakily. “This isn’t right -”

And then he slaps her, backhand, with such force that she stumbles backward and slams into the wall. Her eyes water, though whether it’s from pain or the blow, she can’t tell. Her legs give out from under her. She plummets to the floor. “You…” Du says. He balls his hands into fists. “I don’t know why I trusted you. You’ve always been the weak one.” He crouches down and curls his hand into the hem of her hoodie. “I gave you a chance, and you chickened out of it.”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone, please let me go, please, please, please,” Handong starts saying, and then the tears are coming and she can’t stop them. She squirms desperately, leaning away from his icy stare. “I would help you if I could, but I-”

Downstairs, the front door opens with a loud creak , and Du stands abruptly, dropping her to the floor. “Shut up,” he says. "Shut up!" He clenches and unclenches his hands. "You lost your chance to help."

"Du?" a new voice calls from somewhere, in Korean. "You good?" There's something about it that feels familiar, like she's heard him speak before.

"Fine!" Du grits his teeth. "I'll be down in a moment!"

"Take your time, bro - wait, did something come up?"

He turns on his heel and rushes out the door, slamming it behind him in his wake. Handong is alone in a dim room with a skeleton full of flowers, a freshly cleaned knife, and a thousand worries spinning around her head.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

chapter 7: see you laters
Handong does not return from the store before Yoobin and Bora come back. She does not return when they were supposed to leave for their flight. She does not return at all.

Gahyeon sits in the common area, her phone in her hands but asleep, in silence. Bora is on the other end of the couch, talking in hushed tones to Siyeon, who’s sort of crouched next to her. Yoohyeon is sitting backwards on a chair, Minji is pacing, and Yoobin has disappeared into the bathroom.

“I don’t understand,” Minji says. “She just went to get a charger.”

“I told you,” Bora half snaps. “She’s been kidnapped by that buddy of hers. We saw her in the car.”

Siyeon puts her hand on her shoulder. “The police told us they were investigating. We’ll know what happened soon.”

Minji groans, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. “It’s been hours . Hours and hours and hours. She was supposed to be home by now, and Lord knows where she actually is.”

Gahyeon hits the button on her phone to open it, half checking for some important news to break and half desperately trying to avoid the world. She scrolls through her Instagram, her eyes bouncing from image to image.

“It can’t have been that bad,” Minji says, her voice getting that edge to it that makes Gahyeon start to panic. “Like, it was someone she knew, that’s not that bad.” She pulls her phone out. “Please, Dad, I’ve never needed you to call more in my life .”

“Once we hear back from the police, we’ll be fine,” Siyeon says.

Gahyeon double-taps a picture of a dog. “Yeah,” Bora says. “Fine. What if she’s-”

“Don’t,” Minji says. “Just, don’t. We can’t think about it.”

“Fine, I’ll just shut up then-”

“The problem is,” Yoobin interrupts, and everyone stops to look at her. She’s folded her arms over her chest, leaning against the wall. “The problem’s that he’s a cop, too. He’s got resources that he can theoretically hide from the rest of them. We should’ve followed him. We could’ve gotten him by now, could’ve kept Handong safe.”

Bora shakes her head. “Are you crazy? We had one gun that we weren’t even supposed to have. If we had failed, we could’ve been arrested.”

“And Handong could’ve been on a plane home at this point, if we hadn’t. Now we’re stuck with neither possibility.”

“Yoobin,” Siyeon says. She’s putting her hand on Bora’s shoulder. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I never said it was-”

“ Stop ,” Gahyeon interrupts, her phone falling from her hands. “Just stop. Both? All of you.” She stoops to pick up the device and sits up to find everyone staring at her. “Um.”

Siyeon and Bora exchange a glance, Yoohyeon turns gently back to her phone, Minji sighs and resumes her pacing. “Are you okay, Gahyeon?” Bora says, her face twisting into a pseudo-sympathetic smile.

Gahyeon shakes her head slowly. Breathe, Gahyeon . She sniffles in some air. It has no effect. “None of us are,” she mumbles, and she pulls at her pop socket and pushes it down and pulls and pushes and pulls and pushes and-

“Maybe,” Yoohyeon says, lifting one of her hands, “we could stop yelling at each other?” She swivels around so she’s sitting properly on the armchair. “It’s not helping us…”

Bora slouches and leans her face in her hands. Yoobin combs her fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry,” she says.

“I’m just worried,” Bora whispers. Siyeon slides up onto the couch proper and lets the other girl lean on her. She beckons Gahyeon to come over with one hand. Gahyeon obliges and buries her cheek in her friend’s shoulder.

Minji nods, half grimacing, half smiling sadly. She takes a breath, about to speak, and then the phone in her pocket rings and she squeaks. “Oh! Oh my god, it’s Dad,” she stammers. She fumbles to get it out. “Okay, okay, this could be really good, or really, really- Hey, Dad!” She presses the phone to her ear.

Gahyeon sinks deeper into Siyeon’s shoulder, praying, praying, praying, her eyes squeezed shut. She squeezes the older girl into a hug so tightly that she’s afraid it hurts, but she isn’t shoved off, so she assumes it’s okay. Deep, shuddering breath. She shuts her eyes.

Minji doesn’t talk for a long time. “Is everything okay?” Yoohyeon asks, only to be shushed by someone that’s probably Yoobin. “Oop.”

“Oh, no,” Minji says. Her voice is muffled. “Okay. You want me to come up and… identify it? Her? Them? Okay. Well, it might… Not be, so it’s… It’s okay, Dad. It’s not… Right. I’ll be right over. Thank you.”

Gahyeon risks opening one eye. Minji is pressing her hands to her face. “Does anyone want to come with me to the hospital?” she says, all in one breath and after a very long pause. “Dad says there was a person - a woman - discovered and brought in by one of the officers and she didn’t have ID and was unconscious.” She swallows. “So he asked me to come in to make sure that it’s her. Or isn’t. Hopefully, it’s not, but he wants to make sure…”

“Oh, no,” Bora says.

“Please, guys. I don’t wanna do this alone.” Minji looks around desperately, her gaze bouncing from person to person.

Yoobin shakes her head. “I don’t think I should go, sorry,” she says.

“I really don’t think I should,” Yoohyeon stammers. “I mean, if it is , then-”

Gahyeon peels her cheek from Siyeon’s shoulder and clears her throat. “I’ll go,” she says. She pulls her arm from behind the other’s back. “I kinda told her to go out anyway and get the charger instead of just buying one myself and letting her take mine or something.” She sniffs, loudly.

“Are you sure, Gahyeon?” Minji says. “I don’t-”

“I’m okay.” She wipes at her eyes before they can betray her and pushes herself to her feet. “I’ll be okay. Besides, you have to stay strong for me, now, hm?” She smiles weakly and steps around the coffee table.

Minji reaches for her hand. “Anyone else?” she offers.

No one makes a move to respond. Gahyeon squeezes Minji’s hand tightly. She suddenly feels very cold. She tugs at the hem of her oversized sweater.

“I’ll start dinner,” Yoohyeon says. She pushes herself out of the armchair, stretches. “Give something for you to look forward to.”

Bora nods. “I can help,” she says. She smiles, just a bit. “Siyeon, I think you’ve cooked enough today.”

Siyeon covers her mouth in mock offense. “Hey. It turned out fine in the end… Minus my shirt.” She crosses her arms.

Hurrying over to her, Yoohyeon taps her head. “Fine, you’ll do the dishes, then!” she says.

“Wh- Hey!” Siyeon gets up, and now she’s smiling, too, and she swats at Yoohyeon’s hand. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Ah, but it’s what you’ll get,” Yoohyeon chirps, and she stumbles backwards towards the kitchen, almost falling.

Gahyeon sniffs. There’s a soft smile on her face. “Damn, that really was just today,” she says. “I almost forgot.”

“I didn’t,” Minji says. “Siyeon owes me a new shirt.” She squeezes Gahyeon’s hand back. “Should we go now?”

Gahyeon nods, and the two head out towards the doorway just in time to hear Siyeon yelp and something else hit the floor. Minji rolls her eyes. “At least we’ll have something waiting for us,” she says as they head down the steps.

“Did you remember your mask?” Gahyeon says.

“Yeah, I’m good. Let’s go.”

The rain comes in fits and bursts, sparingly enough that neither bother to bring an umbrella, but often enough that Gahyeon’s sweater is still uncomfortably damp by the time she slips into the passenger seat. Minji twists the keys in the ignition. She’s smiling, but it feels fake, and it doesn’t last long at all. Gahyeon watches it drop from her face before they’re even out of the parking lot. She turns her gaze away and plays with the end of her sleeve.

“They’ll be fine,” Minji says, seemingly to no one. It startles Gahyeon.

“Huh?” she says.

The older girl waves her hand. “They’ll be okay, I think. At least, till we come back, with… Fuck .” She drops her head onto the steering wheel.

“Yeah, they’ll be fine,” Gahyeon agrees, scratching at her arm.

Minji only looks up again when a horn starts honking behind them. “I’m terrified, dude,” she says. “I’m trying to stay calm, but like, there’s nowhere that my brain is going except the worst , and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Me either,” Gahyeon says, which feels like a flat and pathetic response, but she really can’t tell what she’s supposed to say. “She’s not stupid, she’d…”

“She’s not stupid. And she’s strong, too, so- Shit !” Minji’s cut off by her phone ringing from her pocket. “Uh, uh, crap, why now, he knows I’m driving, oh my god, here!” She wrenches it out of her pocket and practically chucks it at Gahyeon. She only miraculously manages to catch it. “Put it on speaker.”

Gahyeon looks down at the phone screen and does so. “Minji?” crackles the officer’s familiar voice.

“I’m here, Dad,” Minji says. She waves one of her hands at the mount on the air vent. “What’s up?” Her voice is surprisingly steady. Gahyeon wishes she knew how to do that.

“I have good news, and I have bad news. Really, really bad news.” He coughs.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

Gahyeon glances at Minji, who has chosen to look straight ahead. “...Good news first,” the older girl ventures.

“The girl that I was worried about isn’t Handong.”

Both of them sigh in relief. Gahyeon covers her mouth with her hand to try and hold back the tears. “Who is it?” Minji asks. There’s an odd smile on her face.

“No one you knew, and no one I’m allowed to discuss anyway.” He shuffles something on his end. “The bad news is, we found her, and… I’m afraid of what you have to see. I know how close you were to her, and-”

“ Were ?” Gahyeon squeaks, before she can help herself. “Wait, Officer Kim, she’s-”

“We’ll be there in five minutes, Dad,” Minji says. “I’m going to hang up to focus on- on driving.” She swipes to hang up before her father can respond.

Gahyeon whimpers. “She’s dead ?” she says. “She’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead-”

“Please, please, please, for the love of God, stop talking,” Minji says. She shakes her head. “I have to be able to see to get to the hospital.”

Gahyeon snaps her jaw shut hard enough that it hurts. Her heart hammers in her chest, loud enough that she’s certain Minji can hear it. She sort of hugs herself and sways back and forth. Her brain rockets back and forth between bad thought to worse like she’s the ball in a twisted game of ping pong.

Handong’s definitely dead. Except she might not be - maybe she’s only dying and they don’t know if she’ll make it. Maybe a miracle’s going to occur in the OR. Maybe God’s watching out for them. Maybe she should remember to breathe.

She sucks in a rapid breath between her teeth to try and settle her nerves. It doesn’t work and it just makes Minji sort of choke out a laugh-sob hybrid. “S-S-Sorry,” she stammers, pressing the sleeves of her sweater to her eyes. “I’m try-trying.”

She focuses all of her energy on whatever positivity she can wring out of this fucked up situation on the rest of the ride there. Before today, she’s never considered herself a religious person, but she prays more in these five minutes than she’s probably prayed in her life. It does very little to help.

Minji doesn’t even bother to find a proper parking space. They’ve managed to spread out over five separate spots, but it doesn’t matter. “C’mon,” she whispers, practically kicking her door open. “Gimme your hand.”

Gahyeon gladly obliges that. She squeezes Minji’s hand so tightly that it must hurt, it hurts her, and lets herself be dragged across the parking lot and through the sliding doors of the hospital. A receptionist in a pretty purple pair of scrubs and tortoiseshell glasses nods with way too much energy at them. “Is something wrong?” she says, tapping a couple of keys on her computer.

“Where’s Officer Kim?” Minji says. She’s squeezing Gahyeon’s hand back. She’s shaking. Or maybe Gahyeon’s shaking - it’s not clear. She loops her arm around Minji’s and clings like a child.

“Um, he’s- He’s in the emergency room, I believe- Are you here to see him? Because he’s not-”

“No, I’m his daughter, and he’s with one of our best friends, please just let us in.” Minji’s begging now, and the sound makes Gahyeon sick. “Please. It’s really bad.”

Gahyeon guesses the receptionist gets it, because she doesn’t argue, just mumbles a room number and points them down the hall, and then they’re running again, and there’s pure adrenaline swirling around Gahyeon’s body, and she feels like she’s going to faint and like she’s ready to run a marathon at the same time. Time has slowed down. She is aware of everything .

They swing around the door, into a tiny room that’s got way too many people in it. On one side, left of the bed, is a nurse with a clipboard; next to her stands Minji’s father, a somber look hidden behind his glasses; opposite him is someone else, another officer that Gahyeon doesn’t recognize. The only sound is the high pitched screech of a flatlining monitor. “Time of death,” the nurse is saying as she writes, “twenty-two thirty-two.”

“No,” Minji says.

Gahyeon says nothing, just clings tighter to Minji’s arm, because if she doesn’t, she’s going to drop to the ground like a stone and never get up again. She stares at the body - at Handong’s body - on the bed in front of them. Even with a bloody bandage stretched over her eyes, even clad in a generic hospital gown, Gahyeon can tell that that’s Handong , and she stares. What can only be blood has trickled from beneath the bandages and drips across two sets of stitches going down her face. Further stitches line her collarbone, in what might be a Y-pattern, if all the crime shows Gahyeon’s binged have taught her anything. Her wrists, spread out on the bed in front of her, are ringed with bruises, and one of her shoulders slumps far too low. It’s horrible. Gahyeon can’t tear her eyes away.

“I can send her to you for autopsy, but that will only tell us what finally killed her,” the nurse is saying. Her voice is too smooth, too unaffected. “It was clearly murder.”

Murder .

The word bounces around her skull. Someone murdered Handong. Someone got it into their head to kill and settled on her , not anyone else. Of all the women in Seoul. Or in Korea. Or in the world.

“Pardon me, Nurse Kyeong,” Officer Kim is saying, “but that is not your call to make. We will investigate as we see fit, determine what conclusions can be drawn, and go from there. Thank you for doing what you could.”

“Of course. I’ll leave you alone for now. If there’s anything you need, do not hesitate to ring the bell.” She hurries out, her heels clicking on the floor, and leaves a comforting squeeze on Gahyeon’s shoulder that has absolutely no effect besides making her whimper.

Minji starts pulling her arm free, and there’s another pair of arms guiding her towards something that turns out to be a chair when she is dropped on it. It faces the bed. “Let’s get you over here ,” an unfamiliar voice says.

“ Handong ,” Gahyeon says, her voice cracking. “Handong, please, please, please.” She stretches her hand out and grabs one of her friend’s. It’s far too cold and far too heavy. “You can’t be dead , you- you can’t be, this is a nightmare, please wake up. Please wake up. Please.”

“I’m sorry, Minji,” Officer Kim says. “I wish this were different, too. She was such a nice girl.”

Gahyeon stares at Handong’s body, hoping and praying that this is all some sick joke, that if she just claps her hands and believes life will return and her chest will lift again, and she squeezes her hand - which is already starting to stiffen - and breathes out a ragged sob. “You’re not dead, you’re not dead , please, you’re not dead.” She pulls the chair forward and rests her head on the mattress of the bed. Her entire body shakes as she cries.

Someone puts their hand on her back, and she tilts her head to look at them. It’s the other officer, with a sympathetic look etched on his rough face. “I know,” he says, rubbing small circles across her shoulder. “I loved her, too.”

“Who- Who are you?” Gahyeon asks. She sniffs. “S-Sorry, I, um, don’t think we- we’ve met.”

He laughs, sort of. He looks very distant. “We haven’t,” he says. He tugs another chair forward and sits down; even sitting, he’s at least got half a foot on her. “Officer Du Shiang. I worked with your father-” He points at Officer Kim.

Gahyeon sort of smiles. “We’re not sisters,” she says. “Just friends. Hers, too…” She risks a glance at Handong again, who hasn’t moved, and feels part of her heart snap. “ We were roommates…” Her voice breaks again. She wipes her eyes.

“Oh.” He nods, in recognition, sort of, lifts his hand. “You must be Miss Gahyeon, then. She told me about you. A bit, not a lot. Nothing bad. We didn’t really get a chance to talk much, last night, but she told me about you, and… Well, the others.” He shrugs.

“She never told me about you,” Gahyeon says. Du Shiang. The name doesn’t ring a bell. “How did you know her?”

Officer Shiang seems surprised. “Not even once?” he says. He sounds almost offended. “That’s strange. We were best friends as children. It’s… Fine. I understand why she wouldn’t want to talk about her childhood.”

“Did… Something bad happen?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing beyond typical childhood bullying, but it affected her a lot. It’s why she went to school here, to start over. Course it’s...Where she ended, I guess.” He sighs and leans forward.

Childhood best friends.

Something about that rings a bell.

“Shiang,” Officer Kim says. “You didn’t see anyone when you found her?”

The other man shakes his head. “Nope. No one was in the car but me and my buddy. No one should’ve been around for miles, anyway. It’s a wonder how she ended up there.” He sighs. “Wish I could help you more. I’ll do as much as I can to help, sir.”

“I can trust that.” Officer Kim lets go of Minji, who’s burrowed thoroughly into his shoulder. “Let’s get you girls home.”

“Can you come with us, Dad?” Minji pleads.

He nods. “Of course. I can’t let you face this alone.” He sighs. “I know I can’t bring her back, but I promise we’ll find who did this. It’s the least we can do for you six.”

Six .

“Thank you, Dad,” Minji says.

They are six now. The thought hurts.

Gahyeon looks back at Handong. She’s already taken on this gray pallor, already frozen stiff in rigor mortis. She’s gone. She’s not going to come back. “I-I don’t want to say goodbye,” Gahyeon whimpers. “I w-wasn’t supposed to say goodbye today.”

“No one was,” Minji says.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

chapter 8: good night
By some miracle, there is something edible sitting in the center of the kitchen table before Minji and Gahyeon get back, despite the yelling and banging and various swear words emanating from the kitchen while Siyeon and Yoohyeon tried to put something together.

“Ta-da!” Yoohyeon cheers, gesturing at it. “Pizza!”

Yoobin hesitates near the door, her gaze flickering between the Australia-shaped, cheese-covered, oddly shiny pizza and the two flour-covered girls who made it. “It sure is?” Bora says, trying to stifle a giggle.

“What did you two do ?” Yoobin asks, waving her hands at Siyeon and Yoohyeon. “Did you like, purposefully throw flour at each other?”

Yoohyeon’s immediate response is to point at Siyeon. “She started it!” she says with all the dignity of a kindergartner. “I just… Couldn’t let her win.”

Siyeon shakes her head. “You tossed it on me -”

“By accident !”

“You guys are like children ,” Bora says, rolling her eyes playfully. She elbows Yoobin’s side. “Go, now, while they’re distracted!” She starts for the table, and Yoobin follows. She nearly trips over Bora’s legs.

“Hey!” Yoohyeon says. “That’s not fair-”

“Pizza cutter! Pizza cutter!” Bora reaches across the table for the round implement, but Siyeon’s snatched it out of her reach and holds it way up in the air and way too close Yoohyeon’s nose. Yoobin flinches, Yoohyeon screams.

“Dude, are you trying to kill me?” she says, but she’s laughing as she says it. “It’s just pizza, no need to go that deep.”

Siyeon pulls the pizza cutter down and grins deviously. “Or does it?” she taunts, and she pretends to stab at the air.

Yoohyeon shakes her head. “No, no, no, please, I have a wife and- and- kids,” she stammers. Her voice is broken up by giggles. She falls to the ground and disappears from Yoobin’s vision.

“Minji doesn’t count and neither does Pie,” Siyeon says. She is now brandishing the pizza cutter like a sword. “Take that. The pizza’s mine now.”

Yoobin sighs. “Yoohyeon has been vanquished,” Bora says, clapping her hands. “Now can we eat? It’s like, ten-thirty.”

The taller girl nods. “Yeah, once I figure out how to cut this… thing.” She leans over the pizza. “There’s not really an even slice, um.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be a problem ,” Yoohyeon sputters as she pulls herself upright again,” if you haven’t gotten in the way-”

“Oh well. I’ll just give the little piece to Yoohyeon,” Siyeon says with a nonchalant shrug. She runs the pizza cutter through the pie at a weird diagonal angle.

“Hey!” Luckily, this time she doesn’t cause much of a fuss, just mopes her way back to the table and leans on Siyeon’s shoulder. “C’mon,” she whines. “Let me eat my own damn food .”

“No.” Siyeon twists around and grabs a paper plate out of the cupboard behind her. “Here you go, Bora.”

Bora beams and reaches across Yoobin to take it. All she does is lean back. Suddenly, she is not very hungry. She steps away from the table. “Okay, no offense, but I don’t think I can eat that much cheese right now,” she says. “You can have mine, Yoohyeon.”

“Someone likes me,” Yoohyeon says. She tilts her head at the younger. “Are you good, Yoobin?”

Yoobin shrugs. “Just nervous, is all. A bit nauseous. You understand.” She flexes her hands, rests them on the back of a chair.

“It’s good,” Bora says, with a mouthful of pizza. “Maybe it’ll help. Little greasy though.”

Yoobin grimaces. “Yeah, I think I’ll pass,” she says.

“Okay?” Siyeon says. She pauses, already sliding another slice - or chunk, or sector, or whatever other word could describe the trapezoid she is holding - onto a paper plate. “I’m guessing you don’t wanna talk about it.”

Yoohyeon snatches it from her before anyone can complain, and Yoobin smiles a bit at that. “Bottling it up ain’t healthy, dude. Like, I know I don’t shut up, but I also think I have the least anxiety of everyone currently in this room, so, lose-win?” She takes a bite. “Why is it so salty?”

“I’ll be fine once we know what happened to her,” Yoobin replies. “It’s pointless worrying, anyway.”

Siyeon and Bora exchange a quick glance. Yoobin wishes she knew what they were telling each other. “Do you feel emotions?” Bora asks eventually. “Like, human emotions? You’re so calm all the time, it’s a little scary.”

That actually makes her laugh. Yoohyeon tries to nudge her, misses, laughs harder. “What other emotions could I be experiencing, Bora?” Yoobin says. She lifts her hands. “Oh, god, you’ve learned my secret, now I have to return to my home planet. Look what you’ve done. You’ve lost me.”

“No,” Yoohyeon says, drawing the word out dramatically. “Bora-a-a, what have you done ?” She leans on Siyeon’s shoulder and giggles.

“Good-bye, friends,” Yoobin says, slowly backing out of the kitchen. “I shall never forget you, until they wipe my memory of this life-”

She’s cut off by the opening of the main doorway. Fast enough to almost give her whiplash, she snaps her head around and makes eye contact with a very red-eyed Gahyeon, who flinches and turns around, looping her arms around Minji. “I don’t wanna tell them,” she says. Her voice is flimsy, wavering. “They’re having fun.”

Behind both of them stands Minji’s father, his face hidden behind square sunglasses and a plain black mask. He mumbles something that sounds like “I hate this part.”

Yoobin looks back into the kitchen and waves her hand. The remaining trio are staring at her, frozen- Bora has her pizza halfway to her mouth. “They’re back,” she says. “And Handong’s not with them.”

Gahyeon whimpers. “I c-can’t,” she stammers.

“You don’t have to,” Minji says. “It’s okay.”

There’s a scraping of chairs and a loud plop as something presumably cheesy hits the floor. When Yoobin turns back around, Gahyeon’s running down the hall, and the others are filtering into the common area.

“Um, good evening, Officer Kim,” Siyeon says, awkwardly. Her eyes are wide. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Officer Kim sighs. “Good evening, Siyeon.” He lifts his cap and runs a hand over his thinning hair. “I wish it were under different circumstances.”

He’s got that professional tone to his voice that Yoobin can only ever recall hearing once before, and for a much different reason. She swallows - her mouth is dry - and shoves her hands in the pocket of her hoodie to hide the way they’ve started to shake.

Minji crosses away from her father, beckoning people to join her on the couch. She, too, looks like she’s been crying. which does absolutely nothing to ease Yoobin’s anxiety. Something very bad has happened. That part is obvious.

There are five people crammed onto one sofa - her and Yoohyeon on one side, Siyeon and Minji on the other, and Bora squished right in the middle. It feels both stifling and comforting at the same time. Yoohyeon loops her arm through Yoobin’s and leans against her.

“So,” Siyeon says. She’s staring at Officer Kim.

He sighs. Once again he lifts his hat. “I… regret to inform you, that, unfortunately, Miss Handong is dead.”

Yoobin stops breathing. Her heartbeat seems to slow. She stares directly through Minji’s father. She stares at nothing at all. Dead .

“What?” Bora squeaks, snapping Yoobin back into reality. “She’s… dead?”

The policeman nods. “I’m sorry,” he says. “She died not too long ago. So far, it looks like she was killed by someone, but we can’t say for certain now. It’s too early in the investigation.” He sighs. “I wish I had better news.”

“No,” Yoohyeon says. She whimpers. “That can’t be right. She was just going to get a charger. How did…”

“Oh my God ,” Bora says.

Siyeon shakes her head. “This can’t be true, it- it can’t be,” she says, and she desperately stares at Minji. Minji grabs her hands, but avoid eye contact. “It was someone else. You saw someone else, right?”

“No,” Minji whispers, barely. “I saw her. Gahyeon saw her.” Her shoulders slump even further, somehow. “That weird officer we met last night, he brought her in .”

Yoobin tenses, concern flickering into her mind. She thinks back to the car ride, to the panic she saw in Handong’s eyes, and casts a quick glance at Bora, who is pointedly looking away. I knew it , she thinks, digging her fingers into her knee. I fucking knew it.

The thought opens a hole in the bottom of her gut. She tenses harder.

“Ow,” Yoohyeon hisses. She wriggles her arm out of Yoobin’s. “Are you okay? You’re like, breaking my elbow.” She rubs her forearm. “Not like, okay, I meant-”

Yoobin shakes her head. “I think I need to take a walk,” she says. “This is a lot to handle.” Her head is spinning, and she feels a little sick. She doesn’t – didn’t – want to be right here. She slips out from behind Yoohyeon and rubs a cramp out of her leg.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

“Miss Yoobin, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Officer Kim says. He holds out a hand, as if to stop her, even though she’s still across the room. “It’s nearly midnight. We don’t want you getting hurt out there. I know that this is hard.”

Yoobin pushes her sleeves up. “I could go with you,” Siyeon offers, gently untangling herself from the couch. “Have a buddy system.” She stands next to Yoobin.

“I won’t go far, just up to the roof.” I just need to get out of here. She glances at Bora, who is now staring at her, darts her gaze away towards Minji, who’s found the ground very interesting all of a sudden, back to Officer Kim.

“You’re allowed to cry in front of us,” Yoohyeon says.

“If Siyeon goes with you,” Minji’s father says.

Yoobin wastes absolutely no time and crosses the common room fast enough to surprise even herself. Once she’s outside, she stops and practically throws herself over the railing of the stairs. Here is where her legs give out. She’s not making it to the roof. She lets the railing support her.

“Oh, my God,” she breathes, staring down at the wet pavement.

“Yoobin,” Siyeon says. She locks the door behind her. “What the hell?” Steps down so she’s next to her. “You know it’s not your fault.”

Yoobin sighs, her breathing shallow. “It’s not,” she echoes. She flips her hood over her hair. “That’s not the problem.”

Siyeon puts her hand on her back. “So, what is?”

There’s a voice in Yoobin’s head that’s distinctly not her own, nagging her, yelling at her, begging her not to talk. There’s also a different voice that keeps repeating the words Handong is dead, Handong is dead over and over and over again. The overlapping makes her head hurt. She leans up to look at the older girl. “I don’t know.”

Siyeon grabs the back of her hoodie and pulls her gently upright. “God, Yoobin,” she says. “That doesn’t help at all. Do you want a hug?”

“You don’t give the greatest hugs.”

“It’s what you got. C’mere.” She pulls Yoobin in, and Yoobin doesn’t think she has a choice. She sinks into the hug more than she anticipated, rests her cheek on Siyeon’s collarbone. The panic is settling, but the bad feeling remains. She loops her arms around Siyeon and sighs.

Siyeon’s breathing shudders for a moment. “Do not,” Yoobin says, holding her a bit tighter. “Just don’t .”

“I’m trying ,” Siyeon replies. “Fuck. Handong gives the best hugs.” Beat. “Gave. Fuck. ” She actually squeezes, hard enough that Yoobin can barely breathe.

Yoobin wriggles, coughs a little, lets out a tiny cry. “Ow,” she squeaks. Siyeon immediately lets go, and she steps backwards, wiping her eyes.

“Oh, my God, are you okay?" she sputters, holding Yoobin at arm's length. "I don’t want to hurt you, oh no."

Yoobin nods. "Fine," she says. "Physically. I'm okay." She looks back out over the parking lot of the building, tracking the pattern of a pair of headlights with her eyes. "I think I'm gonna stay out here a bit longer, if that is okay." She sniffs in a breath. "I don't…" She trails off. There are several ways she could complete that sentence; I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to face Bora. I don't want to say too much. None of the ones she can say out loud are true. "You get it, right?"

Siyeon sighs. “Okay,” she says. She leans against the railing and stares straight ahead.

Yoobin pulls her hood over her face.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

It gets too cold to stay out after a while - Yoobin’s not sure how long, just that she runs into Officer Kim on the way back in. Instinctively, she stiffens passing him by. Part of the weight in her chest evaporates once he’s out of the dorm.

Christ. He’s Minji’s dad, she thinks, pulling at her hoodie. He’s not going to hurt you .

Her hands have started shaking again. She hides them in her pocket.

The common room has mostly emptied - at least, Bora and Yoohyeon have left. Minji is curled up, her knees to her chest, on the couch. She has only one earbud in. “Oh, thank god,” she says, pushing herself to a more upright position. “I was getting worried, it’s like, five degrees out…” She’s stopped crying a while ago, but there’s this dazed look on her face, like she’s only half present. Naturally. Minji saw the body.

“I’m heading to bed,” Siyeon says. She, too, has settled, though she seems a bit shakier.

Minji nods and slumps back down. “Sleep well,” she says.

Siyeon sighs, crossing towards the couch. “C’mon, you look exhausted . Your bed’s comfier, I bet.” She holds her hand out for the older girl to take. Yoobin looks away.

Minji grumbles something. “I don’t wanna move.”

“At least do that in your bed.” Siyeon grabs Minji’s hand and pulls. “We should all sleep, at this point.” She looks at Yoobin.

Yoobin looks away. “In a bit. I think I need to take a shower.” She lifts one of her hands in a wave. “I won’t take too long.”

She doesn’t wait to hear a response, just turns and walks down the hallway, stopping only to grab her bathrobe from her room. The light’s off in the bathroom when she opens the door. Good. She needs the space right now.

Twenty minutes, thirty minutes, however long it takes to run out of hot water is however long she stays there. She spends another ten minutes wrapped in a towel, sitting on a toilet and staring into space. She only gets up when she hears the door to the bathroom opening. Fuck . In a panic, she throws her bathrobe on and steps out of the stall and comes face to face with one very red-faced Gahyeon. “Oh!” the younger says, and steps back. “Um. Hi.”

“Hello,” Yoobin says. “Are you okay? You ran off before we could talk to you.”

Gahyeon winces. “Yeah. I’m… Okay, well I’m not fine, but, I’m fine .” She looks into the big mirror that lines one of the walls. “I just couldn’t face everyone. Not- Not ever, I think.” She turns on the sink and runs her fingers under it. “I’ve been trying to sleep, but it’s just so quiet in my room, and-and, fuck, I’m gonna start crying again.” She splashes some water on her face and goes silent.

Yoobin doesn’t know what to say, or if she even should say anything, so she just stands there and puts a hand on Gahyeon’s shoulder. “It’s alright,” she says.

Gahyeon covers her face with her hand, her shoulder hiked up to her ear. She tries to take a deep breath, but it comes out more of a gasp. “I-I-I,” she stutters. “I saw what happened to her, all those bandages.” Weakly, she wipes her eyes and grabs at her shoulders. “Yoobin, it was- horrible , and someone did that to her. I c-can’t imagine- why would- who would- It was-”

“Shh,” Yoobin says. She adjusts her bathrobe before opening her arms and wrapping the younger girl in a hug.

Gahyeon sniffs. “She had n-no eyes ,” she mumbles. “There was just- just this bandage and-and-and who would do that, why would, oh, my God.”

Yoobin tenses. “Wh-what?” she says.

“Uh-huh.” Gahyeon pulls away, wipes her eyes again. “And there was this line here-” she points at her collarbone- “and here-” points at the other side- “and it looked so planned , like, like, a serial killer or something, and I don’t wanna think about that .” She’s gone pale beneath the flush from crying. “What if it is a serial killer? Is one of us next? Oh, God, I don’t want to die, or you to die, or Yoohyeon to die, or-or-or anyone.”

“You need to go to sleep,” Yoobin says, putting her hands on Gahyeon’s shoulders. “You’re starting to overthink.”

“I c-can’t.”

“You have to try.”

Gahyeon takes another deep breath, this one a little less shaky. “I am. It’s too quiet, I just can’t handle it.” Inhale, exhale; at least she’s calming down.

“Maybe a white noise app?” Yoobin suggests.

Gahyeon blinks slowly, mulling it over in her head. “No, my phone’s out of space,” she says. “I was going to ask Yoohyeon if she could sleep in my room, but I think she’s already asleep and I don’t want to wake her… Wait.” She yawns, squeaks like a kitten. “Would you mind just… sleeping on the floor, or something, just until I fall asleep? It’s just… too quiet without her.” She swallows. “Christ. I have a headache…”

Yoobin nods, puts her hand on Gahyeon’s. “Of course not. But, let me get into actual pyjamas first.”

The younger girl giggles , and it’s almost a relief. “Oh, god, sorry, I hadn’t even noticed-”

“It’s fine, really.” Yoobin steps back and around Gahyeon. “You’ve had a rough night.”

“We’ve all had a rough night.”

“We all didn’t see the body.” She grabs the door handle and pulls it open. “You’re fine.”

Gahyeon sniffs again, and Yoobin exits to grab proper sleep attire.