Dive // Jaeyi x Seulgi

Chapter 11

Seulgi noticed it the moment Jaeyi pulled back—a faint smear of red at the corner of her lips.

The same lips that had whispered, "Do you really want me to stop?"

Seulgi hadn't answered.

And now, with Jaeyi still pressed close, breath warm between them, she saw the tiny cut.

Without thinking, she reached up. "You're bleeding."

Jaeyi blinked, caught off guard as Seulgi's thumb brushed over the spot—featherlight, careful, as if she were afraid of making it worse.

Seulgi frowned, sounding a bit worried. "I did that, didn't I?"

Jaeyi huffed a quiet laugh. "You tell me."

Seulgi exhaled, her touch staying a bit before she pulled away. "You should be more careful," she murmured.

"You're the one who bit me," Jaeyi teased, eyes gleaming.

A flush crept up Seulgi's neck. "That's—" She groaned, shaking her head. "Never mind."

The moment softened, but the air between them didn't lose its weight.

Then—"What's your plan, Jaeyi?"

Her voice was quiet, but steady.

Jaeyi stilled.

"You didn't come back just for me, did you?"

"No," Jaeyi said.

Seulgi had expected it. But it still hurt.

Jaeyi's gaze lowered. "I'm going to take him down."

Seulgi didn't need to ask who 'him' was.

She sat there in silence for a moment, then said, "Then I'm staying."

That made Jaeyi look at her—really look at her.

Seulgi nodded. "I won't let you do this alone. I still have two weeks left before I go back to the city."

Jaeyi's fingers clenched into fists at her sides. "You're going back in two weeks?"

"Yes." Seulgi's voice was softer now. "But we can make the most of it."

Jaeyi didn't say anything at first. Then, her gaze softened, and she finally spoke, almost quietly, "I'll hold you to that."

-

They did. They really tried.

Seulgi stayed in Jaeyi's apartment quietly, naturally—like she had always belonged. The days blurred into something gentle. Jaeyi drove her around on her motorcycle, her arms wrapped tight around Jaeyi's waist, chin sometimes resting on her shoulder when the lights turned red. They wandered through hillside trails dotted with wind chimes, hidden spots overlooking the ocean, and sun-drenched fields where dragonflies hovered low.

Jaeyi showed her where the wildflowers grew between cracks in forgotten stone walls, where the fishermen dried their nets, where the world felt slow enough to breathe. They shared roasted sweet potatoes from a roadside stall, passed a single bottle of water back and forth. Sometimes they didn't talk. Sometimes they did, about everything and nothing. And somewhere between the wind and the quiet, their fingers intertwined—no more brushing, no more almosts.

At the market, Ahjumma caught them.

"Oh, there you are," she said, eyeing Jaeyi like she'd won a bet. "You've been hiding her, haven't you?"

"Hi," Seulgi greeted, caught off guard.

Ahjumma smirked. "So this is the girl, huh?"

Jaeyi sighed. "Don't start."

"I'm not starting anything. I'm inviting you both. Support group's tonight."

"I'm not going," Jaeyi muttered.

"Yes, you are." Then to Seulgi, "You should come too."

Seulgi glanced at Jaeyi, who was already glaring at a tomato.

Later that night, they did go.

The room was dim, quiet. People sat in a circle, one by one telling stories that felt like tiny wounds.

And then it was Seulgi's turn.

She hadn't meant to speak.

The stories had been unfolding around her like quiet wounds, one by one. She thought she could just listen. Just sit there, her fingers brushing against Jaeyi's beneath the fold of her cardigan, pretending she wasn't unraveling in slow motion.

But then her eyes found Jaeyi's—across the circle, arms crossed, chin tilted in that familiar, defiant way like none of this mattered. Like she didn't care.

She looked beautiful like that. Untouchable. Wrecked.

Seulgi's breath caught.

"I didn't think I had anything to say," she began, voice low, threading through the hush of the room. "But I guess I've been afraid for a long time. Of trusting people. Of letting them close. Of what it would mean if I did."

She paused, pulse loud in her ears. But she didn't look away from Jaeyi.

"There's someone I care about," she said. "Someone who's doing something dangerous. And I know she's strong—God, she's strong—but I don't think she knows how much she matters. How much I see her. Even when she tries so hard not to be seen."

Another breath. Like tearing open a rib.

"I don't want her to need me. I just want her to come back. That's all."

She didn't say Jaeyi's name.

She didn't need to.

The room remained quiet after Seulgi talked. Her words stuck around, hanging in the air like a truth no one said out loud. It felt raw, like everyone could see the cracks she'd just shown them. The others had told their stories, their pains, but hers felt both the most quiet and the loudest.

Then, someone—a man a few seats down—shifted in his chair, his voice cutting through the tension.

"Seulgi," he asked, his tone gentle but probing. "Who is she? The one you're talking about? The one who means so much to you?"

The question settled between them like a stone dropped into still water.

Seulgi's heart stuttered in her chest, and for a brief moment, the room felt too small. She'd said so much, yet nothing had prepared her for the weight of speaking it aloud to strangers.

Jaeyi's gaze hardened, like she was bracing for something she couldn't manage.

"I—I can't say her name," Seulgi murmured, her voice shaky now, the words tangled in her throat. She wasn't ready. She wasn't ready to put Jaeyi out in the open like this, to make her the focal point of this messy, vulnerable piece of herself.

But the man didn't relent.

"You don't have to say her name, but why does it matter so much? Why does she matter so much?" he asked, his gaze soft but persistent.

Seulgi swallowed, trying to steady herself. She didn't know how to answer without exposing too much. Without admitting too much.

But she knew the answer.

"She's the one who makes me feel like I'm not so broken," Seulgi finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Like maybe I'm worth fighting for. Like maybe I can actually believe in something again... Like maybe it's not so bad to lean on someone for once."

The words were sincere. Truth spilled out like water, unstoppable.

Jaeyi just sat there, not looking away. Her face was hard to read, but Seulgi could tell something was different in her eyes.

The circle moved on, the focus shifting elsewhere, but Seulgi couldn't shake the intensity of the question. The weight was heavy, bothering her, and when she looked at Jaeyi again, they just got each other without saying a word.

Jaeyi didn't need her to explain. But that didn't make it any less painful. Or any less real.