Ssamyen One Shots

Half of Us [2/2]

Chaewon

The sweater drawer was harder to go through than she thought it would be.

She sat on the floor, legs folded neatly beneath her, and stared at the pile of colors, the oversized green one Yena used to steal, the navy one they argued over,

(“You look better in it,” Yena had said, tugging it over her own head),

and the cream one with a loose thread she never fixed.

Chaewon pulled that one out. Tugged at the thread absentmindedly. Then stopped herself.

She folded it, carefully, like it would shatter if she didn’t treat it right.

The apartment was too quiet without the hum of Yena’s speakers. No music, no fake news anchor impressions, no soft singing from the kitchen when she thought Chaewon wasn’t listening.

That silence used to feel like peace. Now it just felt like space, something you could get lost in.

When Yena came in, Chaewon didn’t turn right away.

She knew the sound of that key. Knew the pause Yena made at the threshold, like she always forgot for a second whether this was still home.

Chaewon glanced up when she heard the “Hey.”

Her heart kicked. But she kept her voice level. “You’re early.”

“Wanted to avoid traffic.”

Of course. Practical. Polite. Predictable.

Like they weren’t packing away six years of their life in boxes that didn’t have room for things like first kisses or late-night fights that ended with make-up pancakes.

She wasn’t angry. Not really.

Just tired. And a little hollow.

Some endings come with fire. This one came like snowfall. Quiet, steady, hard to stop once it started.

She heard Yena moving through the kitchen. The soft clatter of plates, the thunk of a drawer being opened too hard, then quietly shut again.

They moved like ghosts in the same house, both trying not to step on the same memories.

“You can take the kettle,” she offered, voice raised just enough.

She already knew what Yena would say. And sure enough...

“You hate that kettle.”

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

It came out softer than she meant it to.

She saw the way Yena paused. How she looked down at her hands for a second too long.

“Are you keeping the desk?” she asked, hoping to change the air.

Yena’s grin flickered. Familiar. Faint.

“It’s got character.”

“You’re emotionally attached to broken things,” Chaewon muttered before she could stop herself.

And instantly regretted it.

But Yena only nodded. “Yeah. Guess I am.”