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“What does that mean?”

Becka shrugged, not looking at me.

She mumbled something.

“Say that again?”

“He asked for my number.” Becka said casually.

I dropped the travel mug I was about to pack away. It hit the hardwood floor with a metallic clatter, and bounced for several feet before it rolled to a stop.

“Why am I only just now hearing about this? It’s been–” I raised my watch to look at the time. “Fifteen hours!”

Becka rolled her eyes as she leaned down to pick up the travel mug, before straightening and pointing it at me. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you sooner. I knew how deeply uncool you would be about it.”

She spoke about me being uncool, but judging by the deep flush creeping up her neck, I wasn’t the only one.

“Rebecca Hanson,” I said with a delighted smirk, “you unconquerable flirt! How the hell did you manage that? It took Jihoon a week to ask for my number! And if you roll your eyes at me again, they will fall out of your head.”

She did it anyway.

“Yeah, well, maybe my idol is just better than yours,” she said with a smirk, running out of the room to avoid being hit by the decorative pillow I threw at her.

Later, as we sat on Becka’s bed eating take-out, we watched the sunset through her window. The orange glow gave the room a warm, nostalgic light that for a moment made it difficult for me to swallow past the lump in my throat.

“Why did we never appreciate this view?” I said thickly.

Becka snorted. “Because our building directly faces a row of other identical buildings, and we only get the sun through the alleyways a couple times a day.”

“But there’s a tree outside,” I pointed out.

“There is a tree,” she conceded. “Prime real estate, truly.”

We fell silent, picking absently at the containers of kung pao chicken.

“Will you miss it?” I asked, watching a pigeon perch upon a lamp post.

Becka sniffled quietly. I pretended not to notice, but I moved my arm ever so slightly to softly brush against hers.

She cleared her throat. “I kind of didn’t see this happening, y’know? LA–it’s the dream. And for a while it really was. Don’t get me wrong; it wasn’t always good, you know that as well as I do, but… fuck. I worked so fucking hard here, Ky.”

I nodded silently, raising my eyebrows, because not a day had gone by where I hadn’t marvelled at Becka’s tenacity and work ethic. Not just to Pisces – to life. She threw so much of herself into everything she did, and so little of it ever repaid her efforts.

“It’s not the apartment I’ll miss.” She stabbed her chopsticks into her take-out container, as if she was digging through it to find the right words. “It’s more that this is kind of where I grew up, y’know? My big dream LA base.”

She laughed, but it was tinged with the kind of derision she only ever reserved for herself. My brave friend. So capable of bringing others up that she often forgot how to do it for herself.

“I feel like I’m leaving my entire life behind and I’m scared.” Her voice broke, and her shoulders slumped.

I put my container down on the floor and wrapped my arm around her shoulder. She leaned against me, trembling slightly.

“Let me tell you something I learned from my mum,” I said roughly.

“Was this before, or after you had a quarter-life crisis and decided to reinvent yourself? Because I feel like that might be relevant.”

“Ssh,” I hissed, squeezing her shoulder a little tighter, “I’m being profound.”

“Sorry.”