Tangled Strings

Chapter 11: A Missing Presence

The school felt different.

It wasn’t anything obvious, nothing anyone could easily point out. The halls still buzzed with the same chatter, the same mix of laughter and complaints about homework and teachers. Baemon’s posters still lined the bulletin boards, advertising their upcoming performances. The student council still held their meetings in the same room, discussing the same mundane topics.

But for Ahyeon, something felt off.

She noticed it first in the mornings.

Chiquita wasn’t there.

Usually, by the time Ahyeon walked through the gates, Chiquita would be leaning against the fence, her guitar case slung casually over her shoulder, a grin tugging at her lips as if she was waiting just for Ahyeon. She’d saunter up, spouting some ridiculous line or teasing comment, her presence as constant and infuriating as the sun rising every day.

But now?

Nothing.

No grinning face. No playful remarks. No lingering glances from across the courtyard.

At first, Ahyeon told herself it was a relief.

Chiquita’s absence meant peace. It meant no more of those persistent advances, no more having to shrug her off with cold remarks or biting sarcasm. She could finally breathe without the weight of Chiquita’s attention pressing against her every move.

But as the days stretched on, that relief started to feel like something else.

It felt like an empty space she couldn’t quite explain.

---

In the student council room, the atmosphere was the same as always. Rami was focused on her notes, her meticulous handwriting filling the pages of her planner. Pharita typed away on her laptop, her fingers moving quickly as she compiled the minutes from their last meeting.

And Ahyeon?

Ahyeon was distracted.

Her eyes drifted toward the window, where she could usually catch a glimpse of the courtyard below. She half-expected to see Chiquita there, maybe laughing with her bandmates or tuning her guitar, her head tilted back in that carefree way that always seemed to get under Ahyeon’s skin.

But the spot was empty.

“Ahyeon,” Rami’s voice cut through her thoughts, snapping her back to the present. “You’re zoning out. You okay?”

Ahyeon blinked, forcing a neutral expression onto her face. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Rami raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press further. Pharita glanced up briefly, then returned to her typing.

But even as the meeting continued, Ahyeon couldn’t shake the feeling. The absence of Chiquita’s presence was like a missing note in a familiar song—a subtle discord that made everything feel wrong.

---

Later that day, as Ahyeon walked through the hallways, she caught sight of Baemon.

They were gathered near their usual spot, their instruments slung casually over their shoulders as they laughed and joked with each other. Rora was leaning against the wall, her guitar balanced on one knee as she strummed lazily. Asa was animatedly telling a story, her hands gesturing wildly while Ruka chuckled quietly beside her.

But Chiquita wasn’t there.

Ahyeon’s eyes scanned the group again, as if she might’ve just missed her. But no—Chiquita was definitely not there.

She felt a strange tightness in her chest.

Where was she?

She shouldn’t care. She didn’t care.

But before she could stop herself, she found her feet moving toward the group.

“Where’s Chiquita?” The question slipped out before Ahyeon could even think about it.

The conversation halted abruptly. Asa and Ruka exchanged glances, while Rora raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a faint smirk.

“Why do you care?” Asa asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Ahyeon’s face remained blank, her voice cool and detached. “I don’t. Just noticed she’s not around.”

Rora chuckled softly, shaking her head. “She’s busy.”

Ahyeon frowned slightly. “Busy with what?”

Ruka finally spoke, her voice quieter but laced with something Ahyeon couldn’t quite place. “Busy moving on.”

The words hit harder than Ahyeon expected. She opened her mouth to respond, to say something—anything—but the tightness in her chest made it impossible. Instead, she nodded once, turning on her heel and walking away before they could see the flicker of emotion in her eyes.

---

That evening, Ahyeon found herself lingering near the music room.

It was ridiculous. She had no reason to be there. The student council had no events scheduled, no meetings to prepare for. But still, her feet carried her down the familiar hallway, past the rows of lockers and classroom doors, until she was standing just outside the room where Baemon usually practiced.

She stood there for a moment, listening.

But the only sound that greeted her was silence.

No laughter. No music. No Chiquita.

Ahyeon’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. She told herself to leave, to stop this pointless search. Chiquita wasn’t here. Chiquita wasn’t anywhere she used to be.

And Ahyeon shouldn’t care.

But as she turned to walk away, a memory surfaced—unbidden and sharp.

Chiquita’s smile. That bright, infuriating smile that never seemed to waver, no matter how harsh Ahyeon’s words were. The way her eyes sparkled with something more, something real, even when Ahyeon pretended not to notice.

And now…

Now that smile was gone.

And for the first time, Ahyeon felt the full weight of that loss.

But instead of confronting it, instead of acknowledging the growing ache in her chest, Ahyeon did what she always did.

She shoved it down.

It didn’t matter.

It couldn’t matter.

Because if it did…

Ahyeon wasn’t sure what that would mean.

And she wasn’t ready to find out.

---

The next day, Ahyeon went through the motions. She attended her classes, participated in student council meetings, and kept her expression as impassive as ever. But beneath the surface, a storm was brewing.

Every time she walked through the halls and didn’t see Chiquita, it gnawed at her. Every time she heard someone mention Baemon and realized Chiquita wasn’t part of the conversation, it stung.

And yet, she told herself it didn’t matter.

She repeated it like a mantra, hoping that if she said it enough times, it would become true.

But deep down, Ahyeon knew the truth.

Chiquita’s absence wasn’t just noticeable—it was unbearable.

And the worst part?

Ahyeon had no one to blame but herself.