After a long afternoon of surfing and walking through the beach, she felt tired. 

Walking inside her apartment, she took a shower. Then, she grabbed her notebook and pen, inspired all of a sudden. 

Yes, she was thinking of Irene. Irene has invaded her thoughts for a week now, but Seulgi was scared to talk to her. 

She walked by Bleu and saw her there, taking orders and being her charming self. Seulgi smiled to herself, but made sure she wasn’t seen. 

Seulgi felt inspired to write something, a song, a novel, she didn’t know. She just wanted to release all of her thoughts into papers. 

After a few minutes, she couldn’t write. 

Not even a damn word. 

She sighed in frustration and threw her notebook and pen to the floor, running her fingers through her hair. 

Where did this terror of asking someone out come from? Usually, she wouldn’t think twice, but with Irene it was different. She was afraid of rejection, she was afraid of going to her boring life again and not have something thrilling to think about when she woke up in the morning. She wanted to have someone to look up to everyday. 

Sure, she loved surfing and being at the beach all day, she didn’t get to do that when classes began. 

She liked being interested in something else, in someone else.

Nobody in university talked to her, and if they did, she wasn’t the one to establish friendships with everyone. She was weird, she was antisocial, she was anxious. 

She knew all of that, and she didn’t like it. 

She was also biual, so she didn’t want people to ask her anything about her uality. She was insecure, and terrified. 

Another reason why she doesn’t ask Irene out is because she doesn’t know if Irene will ever see her that way. What if Irene is straight? What if she just doesn’t find Seulgi attractive? Or even a little bit interesting? 

Suddenly, Seulgi felt tired. Tired of being scared of everything, of being scared of being happy. 

Yeah, she was scared of being happy. 

It was pathetic, she thought. Her TV was on, flashing images at a fast speed in front of her. Her fingers were still tangled in her hair, her legs were still pressed tightly together. 

She was hungry, she could go and eat at Bleu, ask Irene. 

It was 7:00 pm, the restaurant was a fifteen minute walk from her apartment. 

She could do that. 

No, she can’t.

The battle inside her head was giving her a headache. She stood up, walking in circles in her living room. She sat on the couch, stood up, walked. She repeated this again and again.

“ it,” she whispered to herself, determined to go and ask Irene out. 

She showered again (she was sweat