The first thing Sooyeon stole that morning was Jisoo's breakfast.
The second was his hoodie.
The third was his patience.
"That's mine."
Sooyeon looked down at the toast in her hand.
Then at the plate in front of him.
"Was."
"You have your own."
"Yours tastes better."
"It's the same bread."
"Maybe your bread has a better personality."
Jisoo stared at her.
She took another bite.
He considered fighting for it. But the toast was already half gone, and he wasn't interested in wrestling breakfast away from a girl who had apparently never heard of personal boundaries.
So he reached for his coffee instead.
Sooyeon reached for it too.
"Don't you dare."
She grinned and pulled her hand back.
"Relax. I don't even like coffee."
"Then why reach for it?"
"To see your reaction."
"You're unbelievable."
"I've been told."
She swung her legs under the table, wearing his oversized gray hoodie, her hair still messy from sleep. She looked like someone who had lived in this apartment for years.
Sometimes, Jisoo forgot.
Not for long. Never for long.
But there were moments—when she complained about his cooking, or stole his food, or fell asleep on his shoulder halfway through a movie and insisted she'd been watching the whole time—when he stopped thinking about the impossible way she'd gotten here.
She was just Sooyeon.
The Sooyeon who, in another world, had been his girlfriend.
"You're staring."
Jisoo blinked.
"I'm not."
"You were."
"I was wondering how someone can eat my breakfast and still complain she's hungry."
"Talent."
"That's not a talent."
"Jealousy doesn't suit you."
He didn't have a comeback for that.
Between bites, a question he'd been carrying around for days finally slipped out.
"Hey. Where did you two go? On your first date."
Sooyeon blinked.
"Me and… you?"
"Him," Jisoo corrected, wincing. "Your Jisoo."
Her expression softened.
"A café near the river. Small place. Wooden tables, bad coffee. He ordered the wrong drink on purpose just to make me laugh."
"What was it called?"
"It was called…"
She stopped.
Jisoo waited.
Her mouth stayed slightly open, like the word was right there.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Her thumb dug into her palm.
"…It'll come to me," she finally said.
She laughed.
It came out a little too late.
"Sure," Jisoo said.
He didn't push.
But he watched her a moment too long.
Because it wasn't a hard question.
And for the first time since she'd arrived, she had looked like someone reaching for something that wasn't there.
"Anyway."
Sooyeon leaned across the table, eyes on the last piece of toast on his plate.
Morning sun poured through the window behind her.
Her hand stretched toward the plate—
And Jisoo saw the table through her fingers.
For one second.
Just one.
The pale wood grain, the edge of his plate, all of it visible through her fingertips, like her hand had been drawn in watercolor and someone had added too much water.
His breath caught.
Then it was gone.
Her fingers closed around the toast like nothing had happened.
She popped it into her mouth. Chewed. Swallowed.
Then noticed him.
"What?"
"Your hand."
Her smile didn't move.
But her hand vanished into the sleeve of the hoodie so fast it almost looked practiced.
"What about it?"
"It looked…" He struggled for the word. "Weird."
"It's called a hand. Everyone has one."
"Sooyeon."
"Nothing happened."
"I saw—"
"Then you should get your eyes checked."
She said it lightly.
Too lightly.
Jisoo glanced at the window.
The sun was behind her. Not in his eyes.
He didn't say that.
He just watched her reach for her water with her left hand, the right one tucked away under the table.
"…Okay," he said slowly.
She smiled.
It looked almost like relief.
The beeping started while he was tying his shoes.
Jisoo looked up.
It was coming from the couch, from the pocket of her school blazer, still folded where she'd left it the first night.
Sooyeon went very still.
"I'll get it," she said quickly.
But he'd already seen the glow through the fabric.
Her phone. The one from her world. She kept it charged, kept it close, and rarely let him look at it.
She pulled it out.
The screen was flickering.
Thin white lines of static ran across it. The wallpaper stuttered between a photo and a gray square.
The clock at the top read 99:99.
Then 3:61.
Then nothing.
"That's not normal," Jisoo said.
"It's old."
"It's from your world. It was working yesterday."
"It's old *there* too," she said, pressing the power button. Once. Twice. Three times. "They glitch. Sometimes."
The screen went black.
She stared at it.
Her knuckles had gone pale.
Then she slid it back into her pocket and turned to him with a bright smile.
"See? Fine. You're going to be late."
He checked the time.
He was going to be late.
He grabbed his bag, jaw tight, torn between pushing harder and saying nothing at all.
He chose the second one.
He regretted it before he reached the door.
She had followed him.
She stood too close while he put on his jacket. Then she held the strap of his bag, like he might forget it.
"What are you doing?"
"Supervising."
"You're holding my bag."
"It's heavy."
"You're not carrying it."
He almost laughed.
Then he looked up and saw her face.
There was no joke in it. Just something quiet and tight, like she was memorizing him.
"When are you coming back?" she asked.
"After school. Same as always."
"Not later?"
"Sooyeon, it's school."
"I know."
She let go of the strap slowly.
"I just asked."
He hesitated at the door.
Then, before he could stop himself:
"I'll come straight home."
Her shoulders loosened.
She smiled. It was small. Real.
"Okay."
[At School]
At school, Jisoo tried to convince himself he'd imagined it.
He'd been tired lately. Between classes, the project, and the increasingly complicated situation at home, his sleep schedule was a mess. A trick of the light wasn't worth worrying about.
But none of those explanations had been in the room.
He checked his phone under the desk.
A new message from the old phone he'd given her.
A photo of a toast crust.
*Evidence that your bread has a personality.*
Jisoo smiled.
Then locked the screen.
"Something funny?"
He looked up.
Real Sooyeon stood beside his desk, holding a worksheet.
"No."
"You were smiling."
"Am I not allowed to smile?"
"You're allowed."
She set the worksheet in front of him.
"It's just unusual when you stare at your phone like it personally offended you."
Jisoo almost laughed.
Almost.
Real Sooyeon watched him, her expression curious but reserved.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Just didn't sleep much."
"You should try sleeping earlier."
"I'll consider it."
"You said that last time."
"Then I'm consistent."
The corner of her mouth lifted.
"Unfortunately."
She turned to leave.
Then stopped.
"Oh. The outline is due next Friday. Presentation's the week after."
"I know."
"You don't."
He didn't.
"…Friday," he said.
"Next Friday."
"That's what I said."
"It really wasn't."
Jisoo uncapped his pen and wrote FRIDAY across the back of his hand.
Real Sooyeon stared at it.
"That's disturbing," she said. "And also effective."
"I can lose a notebook. I can't lose my hand."
She almost smiled.
"Don't make me cover for you."
"You've never covered for me."
"Exactly. Don't make me start."
She went back to her seat.
Jisoo stared at the worksheet without reading a single word.
For a moment, he thought about telling her.
But what would he even say?
*The other you is disappearing.*
He didn't even know if that was true.
[At Home]
He went straight home.
He skipped the convenience store. He didn't take the long route. He told Minjae and Hoon he had "stuff to do," and ignored their loud, unbelievably smug *ohhh*.
When he opened the apartment door, Sooyeon was standing in front of the washing machine, holding one of his shirts between two fingers.
"Why do you own so many black clothes?"
"Why are you going through my laundry?"
"Because someone has to."
"I can do my own laundry."
"Of course you can."
She tossed the shirt in.
"Stop buying the same shirt in five different shades of black."
"They're all black."
"Exactly."
Jisoo dropped his bag beside the sofa.
He watched her for a moment.
He thought about asking.
He knew how she looked when she was pretending something didn't matter. She did it whenever she talked about her old world for too long. Whenever a familiar song came on. Whenever she saw a couple holding hands on the street.
She'd smile, make a joke, and move on.
He'd always let her.
Tonight, he let her again.
That evening, they watched a variety show on the couch.
Sooyeon chose it. Jisoo complained. She ignored him.
Halfway through the episode, she rested her head on his shoulder.
"Comfortable?"
"Very."
"You're crushing my arm."
"Then exercise more."
She shifted closer.
Then closer.
She'd always been comfortable touching him. But lately, she seemed reluctant to let go.
When he stood to get water, she followed him into the kitchen.
When he went to the bathroom, she asked where he was going.
At first, he'd found it funny.
Now he wasn't sure.
"You're clingy today," he said.
"Am I not allowed?"
"You are."
Her fingers caught the sleeve of his shirt.
"You're not going to disappear if I go to the bathroom, you know."
It was supposed to be a joke.
Sooyeon went still.
So slightly that anyone else would have missed it.
But he felt her fingers tighten around his sleeve.
Then she laughed.
"Don't flatter yourself. I just don't trust you not to burn the apartment down while I'm not looking."
"I've never burned the apartment down."
"Yet."
She lifted her head and grinned.
There she was again. The familiar smile. The teasing eyes.
Jisoo smiled back.
But when she leaned against him again, he noticed she kept both hands tucked inside the sleeves of his hoodie.
[That Night]
Jisoo woke up thirsty.
The apartment was dark and silent.
He slipped out of bed and padded toward the kitchen, one hand dragging along the wall.
He stopped in the hallway.
A sliver of moonlight lay across the living room floor.
Sooyeon was sitting up on the couch, her back to him.
She wasn't asleep.
She was holding her right hand in front of her face, turning it slowly in the pale light.
Jisoo almost called out.
Then he saw it.
Her fingers had gone thin in the moonlight.
Not thin.
Faded.
He could see the outline of the couch cushion through her palm.
His mouth went dry.
She curled her fingers into a fist.
Opened them.
Closed them again.
Like she was checking whether they were still hers.
Then she lowered her hand and whispered, barely a breath:
"Not yet."
Jisoo stood frozen in the dark.
She didn't turn around.
She didn't know he was there.
After a moment, she lay back down, pulled the blanket up to her chin, and rolled onto her side.
Jisoo didn't move for a long time.
He never got his water.