Ssamyen One Shots

Half of Us [1/2]

Yena

The apartment was already half empty when Yena came in through the front door.

The echo of her footsteps bounced off bare walls. The bookshelf by the window, the one Chaewon always said was hers, even though most of Yena’s graphic novels took up the top row.... was gone. The plants were gone too. The tall one by the corner? Vanished, like it had never been the thing Yena always bumped her knee into.

She dropped her keys into the bowl by the entrance, only to find it missing as well. Her fingers hovered in midair for a second too long. Then she quietly closed the door behind her.

Boxes lined the living room like silent sentinels. Some were neatly labeled,

KITCHEN: HER STUFF,

BEDROOM: BOOKS, MISC.

A few sat open, in that stage where someone had clearly tried to pack but got distracted halfway.

Yena walked around the room like she didn’t quite live here. Like she was already a guest.

Chaewon was in the bedroom, kneeling on the floor, sorting through folded sweaters. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, her sleeves rolled up. She looked peaceful.

“Hey,” Yena said quietly, leaning on the doorframe.

Chaewon glanced up. Her eyes softened, but she didn’t smile. “You’re early.”

“Wanted to avoid traffic.” Yena stepped inside. “Didn’t think you’d already be here.”

“Didn’t think you’d still have that key,” Chaewon said with a short breath. Not mean. Just true.

Yena raised her hand, holding up the tiny silver key between two fingers. “One last day.”

“That it is.”

They fell into silence again. The kind that didn’t hurt, but felt like something else. Like nostalgia on the verge of cracking.

It wasn’t a dramatic breakup. No shouting, no slammed doors. Just two people who started measuring time in more chores and fewer kisses. Who realized that nights were quieter, but not in a comforting way. The dinners grew shorter, the apologies longer.

They stopped saying good morning. One day, that was enough.

“You can take the kettle,” Chaewon said suddenly, pulling Yena from her thoughts.

Yena blinked. “You hate that kettle.”

Chaewon shrugged. “You like it. And I… like that you like it.”

Yena exhaled slowly through her nose and nodded. “Thanks.”

A beat passed.

“Are you keeping the desk?” Chaewon asked.

“Which one?”

“The wobbly one you keep pretending you’ll fix.”

Yena grinned, just barely. “It’s got character.”

“You’re emotionally attached to broken things,” Chaewon murmured.

The words lingered between them.

Yena looked away first. “Yeah. Guess I am.”

They worked in separate rooms for a while. Yena in the kitchen, wrapping dishes in old shirts. Chaewon in the living room, stacking her records into a crate Yena once painted for her birthday.