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helioooss · 2 days ago

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iii. i wanna feel guilty, i wanna feel that it’s wrong

synopsis: after a rare drunken night, y/n wakes up in bed next to the most untouchable girl at yonsei: karina. she’s immediately thrown into a mess she never wanted, torn between her own moral compass and the undeniable pull of something she doesn’t understand. some lines, once crossed, can never be undone.

w/c: 10k+

warnings: heavy cheating, implied sex, alcohol, smoking, just normal uni stuff, swearingggg, slow burn

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the morning comes too soon, creeping in through the gaps in your curtains, stretching golden light across the sheets. the air is warm, still heavy with sleep and everything is quiet except for the distant hum of the city outside. it takes a second to register the weight beside you, the warmth pressed against your back, the slow rise and fall of steady breathing.

jimin.

her arm is draped over your waist, fingers curled loosely into the fabric of your shirt like she has no intention of letting go. she’s still deep in sleep, her face half-buried in your pillow, lips parted slightly, hair messy from tossing and turning through the night.

this is bad. really, really bad. you don’t know how long you lie there, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together the events that led to this moment.

except it doesn’t feel like that.

it feels comfortable; too comfortable.

you barely stir, caught in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness, your body still heavy with exhaustion.

but then — a sound.

the sharp buzz of a phone vibrating against the nightstand, insistent and repetitive, breaking the quiet of the room. your brows furrow as you turn slightly, your mind slowly dragging itself back to consciousness.

it takes a second for everything to click.

then, all at once, last night comes rushing back. the quiet giggles as you both stumbled inside, sneaking past your sleeping housemates. the way her body fit so perfectly against yours under the sheets, skin against skin, warmth melting into warmth — you don’t even think.

you press a slow, gentle kiss to her forehead, letting your lips linger there for just a second, your fingers threading softly through her hair.

she lets out a quiet sigh, shifting against you, her body pressing even closer, like she’s seeking out more warmth. her arm tightens around your waist, her body pressing flush against yours and for a second, you almost forget why this is a problem in the first place.

you let out a quiet breath of laughter. “your phone’s been ringing,” you whisper, voice still laced with sleep.

she shakes her head, barely opening her eyes, just moving closer to you, nuzzling against your neck. “don’t care,” she murmurs, voice raspy, heavy with sleep.

your breath hitches.

because now she’s so close, her lips brushing against your skin just slightly, the warmth of her breath sending a slow shiver down your spine.

“someone’s probably trying to find you,” you try again, but your voice is weaker this time, distracted by the way her fingers feel around your waist, her entire body pressing into you, closing every last inch of space between you.

“too early to be found,” she mutters, sighing softly. “too comfortable.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. it’s unfair, the way she says things like this so easily. as if it’s normal, as if there aren’t a hundred different reasons why this shouldn’t be happening. you should be panicking.

the faint, muffled sounds of movement outside your door are audible, probably your housemates whispering, speculating. you already know what’s waiting for you when you step outside — grins, teasing, questions you aren’t ready to answer.

“you smell good in the morning,” she mumbles, still buried against your neck, her voice soft, affectionate, dangerous.

your stomach flips. “jimin —”

“mm,” she hums, pressing closer, her arm tightening around your waist. “like coffee and something sweet.”

your heart stumbles.

she has to know what she’s doing.

she has to.

you try to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest, forcing yourself to focus on anything else.

“do you actually want me to call you jimin?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

she finally lifts her head slightly, just enough to look at you, her dark eyes still sleepy but soft, warm, something real flickering behind them.

“with you?” she murmurs, her lips twitching faintly. “yeah.”

you blink at her, your breath catching slightly. “why?”

jimin smiles, the kind that’s small and genuine and it makes something deep inside you ache. “because it makes it more special.”

you don’t know what this is. you don’t know what happens next, what this means, where this will lead.

but right now — right here, with her still tangled up in you, her voice still soft from sleep, her eyes still watching you like she’s trying to figure you out— you don’t want to leave this bed.

and she doesn’t want to leave, either.

you can tell from the way she stretches against you, her limbs lazy and slow, like she’s trying to convince you that staying in bed is the only logical option. her fingers trace absentminded patterns over your stomach and when you shift slightly, she tightens her hold, pressing closer with a small, content sigh.

“your bed is really comfortable,” she murmurs, voice thick with sleep, her lips brushing against your skin as she speaks. “and you’re so cosy.”

your stomach flips, but you force yourself to focus. “you need to go back to your dorm,” you remind her, running your fingers through her hair one last time before gently nudging her. “ningning and minjeong are probably wondering where the hell you are.”

“they probably know,” she mutters, making no move to get up. “they always know.”

“that’s even worse.”

“that makes it easier,” she corrects, stretching her arms above her head before letting them fall back around you. “we can just stay here all day.”

“we have class,” you remind her again, though your resolve is rapidly weakening. “we have to get up.”

“who cares?” she grumbles, shifting slightly, pressing herself even closer, making you curse everything internally. “your bed is so nice. i’m stealing it.”

you snort, finally mustering enough willpower to move, slipping from beneath her hold and sitting up. “you can steal the bed when you steal my degree for me too.”

jimin lets out a groan, dramatically rolling onto her back, draping an arm over her eyes like the universe has wronged her personally. “why are you such a responsible student?”

“because one of us has to be,” you retort, standing up and stretching, your back cracking slightly as you shake off the weight of sleep.

she whines dramatically once more but finally sits up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. she watches you, still half-buried in the sheets, her eyes lazily trailing over you as if she’s debating whether to let you get ready in peace.

she makes her decision quickly: a kiss.

quick and light, pressed against the corner of your mouth before you even have a chance to react.

you try to suppress a smile, startled. “seriously?”

“what?” she grins. “i woke up feeling affectionate.”

“righto, i’ll take it,” you chuckle, pulling your shirt over your head.

she hums, pretending to think. “you should always,” then, with zero hesitation, she leans in again, pressing another slow kiss to your jaw this time, her lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary. “what’s one more?”

your breath hitches, heat crawling up your neck as you attempt to not react. “you’re ridiculous.”

“and yet,” she murmurs, placing one more kiss just beneath your ear, “here you are, letting me do it.”

you shove her lightly, rolling your eyes even as your stomach does stupid flips. “get dressed, we’re leaving soon.”

she stretches her arms out again before finally sitting up, letting out a heavy sigh like getting out of bed is the hardest thing she’s ever had to do.

she glances around your room, eyes scanning the shelves, the desk, the walls decorated with books and scattered notes.

then, her lips twitch into a smirk. “you know, i don’t see a guitar collection anywhere.”

that makes you snort. “that’s because there isn’t one.”

she raises a brow, amusement flickering across her features. “so you lied to get me in your room?”

“maybe,” you chuckle, pulling open your drawer and tossing her a shirt.

“unbelievable,” she catches it effortlessly, inspecting it for a second before tugging it over her head. it’s slightly oversized on her, the hem falling past her waist, but somehow, it still looks better on her than it ever did on you. she smooths it down, then grins. “this is mine now.”

“it’s literally not.”

“you’ll never get it back,” she adds confidently, reaching for her phone on your nightstand.

“that’s theft,” you shake your head, but you don’t argue.

once you’re both somewhat presentable, you tiptoe outside, careful to avoid making too much noise. when you make it to the bathroom, you dig through the cabinet under the sink, finding a spare toothbrush and handing it to her.

she takes it with a small, amused smile, squeezing toothpaste onto the bristles. she brushes her teeth beside you like it’s second nature, like this is something she does every morning — when in reality, it’s completely uncharted territory for both of you.

it should really be mundane. but it isn’t.

it’s oddly intimate, standing there together, bumping elbows slightly, watching her spit out toothpaste before glancing at you with that same sleepy smile.

you try not to overthink it.

but then, just as you’re rinsing your mouth, you hear it and then —

“huh, i fucking knew it.”

you both turn at the same time.

giselle is standing in the doorway, her eyebrows raised, lips quirking up in amusement as she very obviously takes in the situation before her. she tilts her head, looking between the two of you before stepping back, then forward again, like she needs to double-check what she’s seeing.

then, a slow smirk spreads across her face. “so, you two got busy last night, yeah?”

you choke on your own breath.

jimin groans, running a hand over her face. “shut up, aeri.”

the japanese girl’s smirk widens. “cute, really cute.”

“giselle,” you say through gritted teeth, your face burning. “leave.”

“why would i?” she grins, crossing her arms. “can’t a girl say good morning to her friends these days?”

“giselle,” jimin warns, narrowing her eyes.

“fine, fine,” giselle waves a hand, but then she pauses, tilting her head. “but you two do look cute together.”

your entire body heats up. “go away.”

“aw, don’t be shy —”

“giselle.”

she finally laughs, shaking her head as she walks away. “god, ryujin is gonna die when she hears she missed this.”

the girl beside you just sighs, rinsing her toothbrush, still looking far too amused.

before you can say anything, yunjin’s voice echoes from downstairs. “is jimin joining us for breakfast, or what?”

jimin raises an eyebrow, looking at you expectantly. “she can’t,” you answer, giving her a pointed look. “she has to get ready for class. and go see minjeong and ningning.”

and jaewook. you don’t say it, but you both hear it.

her expression flickers, something brief passing over her features, but she only nods. “of course.”

when you both head downstairs, yunjin glances up from the couch, taking in the sight of jimin in your clothes. she grins. “morning.”

she flashes a small, polite smile. “morning, yunjin.”

yunjin nods. “morning, how many episodes did i miss? what year is it?” she pauses, awkwardly looking at each other as the urge to crawl into a hole overwhelms you. then she grins, glancing at you before turning back to jimin. “not bad, y/n.”

you groan, burying your face in your hands. “oh my god.”

“sorry,” she laughs, impressed, “i wasn’t familiar with your game.”

“you don’t have to be,” you mutter, shoving her out of the way so jimin can step past.

giselle perks up from the couch. “i’ll walk her out.”

she raises an eyebrow. “how generous of you.”

“i live to serve,” she winks.

but just before jimin can follow her out of the door, she pauses. then, in front of all of them, she leans in and presses a slow, deliberate kiss against your lips.

your brain short-circuits. is this even real?

it’s quick, but it’s felt. you barely have time to react before she pulls away, smiling at your expression. “see you later, y/n.”

then, she steps out the door, leaving you stunned. the silence in the room lingers.

“jesus,” yunjin mutters, stretching her arms behind her head. “she really likes you.”

you exhale sharply, rubbing a hand down your face as you turn on your heel to the kitchen. “don’t start.”

whatever happened then…was not in your bingo cards for this year. it was meant to be a cruisey one: your final year of law and then freedom. but she came into your life — at the weirdest time.

giselle comes back into the kitchen like she owns the place, sliding into a chair with the kind of satisfaction that only comes from witnessing premium drama unfold in real time. she leans onto the table, eyes flickering between you and yunjin, a smug grin already forming.

“so,” she says, stealing a piece of toast from your plate without even asking, “what the hell is going on? how did we get here? because last time i checked, you hoped it was just going to be dinner and now you have karina barely sneaking out of your room first thing in the morning and we get to watch her kiss you goodbye?”

yunjin, who has been watching you with barely concealed amusement, finally speaks up, lazily twirling a spoon in her cereal. “yeah, i mean — last i checked, you had no interest in anyone.”

you sigh, shoving a spoonful of rice into your mouth, trying to buy yourself time.

the worst part is, they’re right; even you don’t know how you got here. throughout the years, you have managed to avoid the paths of the people that were meant to stay in your life.

“it just…happened,” you mutter, rubbing a hand over your face. “i don’t know. i still don’t know.”

giselle squints. “okay, but how did it happen?”

just as you open your mouth to explain, the front door slams open so aggressively that the walls practically shake. all three of you freeze, heads snapping toward the hallway.

then, in comes ryujin.

she’s out of breath, her backpack barely hanging onto one shoulder, hair slightly messy like she ran all the way here. “what did i miss?”

nobody moves nor they speak.

she scans the room, taking in the sight of giselle, yunjin and you sitting at the table like a panel of judges. she doesn’t waste a second.

she struts into the kitchen, throwing her backpack onto the floor before dramatically dropping into the chair next to giselle. she doesn’t even bother catching her breath.

“i had to leave class early,” ryujin announces, slamming her hands on the table like she’s about to start a press conference. “emergency.”

yunjin raises a brow. “what kind of emergency?”

she looks at you, eyes shining. “your love life.”

you groan, dropping your head onto the table. “oh my god.”

giselle rolls her eyes, sighing like she knew this was going to happen. “fuck, you’re barely passing your classes — you need to keep your priorities in check, girl.”

ryujin shrugs, completely unapologetic. “mate, are you kidding? you never like anyone. then, out of nowhere, you wake up next to the karina? the karina?” she leans back, shaking her head in disbelief. “this is once-in-a-lifetime stuff.”

“it’s not that deep,” you mumble, voice muffled against the table.

oh, it definitely is.

yunjin scoffs, taking a sip of her coffee. “you sneaked her in last night while we were all awake, you sneaky bitch.”

you sit up, glaring. “i hate all of you.”

giselle pats your shoulder like you’re a child throwing a tantrum. “no, you don’t. now spill.”

you exhale heavily, dragging a hand down your face. “it’s…casual.”

yunjin’s expression twists into one of sheer disbelief. “casual? y/n, she kissed you in front of us. that’s not casual. that’s ‘i actually like you and want everyone to know’ behaviour.”

“i didn’t get to see that!” ryujin whines, crossing her arms.

“we’re just being sneaky,” you reason out, picking at your rice. “it’s really complicated.”

giselle hums, shaking her head. “no fucking shit, she has a boyfriend.”

you nod as you heave out a sigh. “yeah. and also just…because it’s karina. this whole thing feels insane.”

yunjin leans forward, resting her chin in her hand. “do you want to stop?”

the question makes your stomach turn.

if you were smarter — if you were thinking logically, rationally — you would say yes; walk away before this turns into something bigger, something you can’t control.

but you don’t want to stop.

“…no,” you admit quietly.

the room goes quiet.

giselle let outs a sigh, but it’s not disapproving. she exchanges a glance with yunjin and ryujin before they all sit up a little straighter.

“alright,” ryujin says, suddenly serious. “then we swear on our lives not to tell anyone.”

yunjin agrees, raising a hand like she’s taking an oath. “not a word.”

giselle crosses her heart. “secrets are safe with us.”

you blink, a little taken aback by how quick they are to support your fucked up wrongdoings. “just like that?”

“just like that,” she confirms. “we’re not gonna step in unless —”

“— unless she stops making you happy,” yunjin finishes.

ryujin points a spoon at you. “the second we see you hurting, we’re jumping in. but for now? it’s your life and we really don’t have a say in it.”

something in your chest loosens, something that had been sitting there since this whole thing started. you didn’t realise how much you needed to hear that. “…thanks.”

she grins, instantly losing all seriousness. “now, tell me everything.”

yunjin smirks, resting her chin in her hand. “starting with who made the first move.”

and just like that, you know you’re never going to hear the end of this. it felt right, but it was so wrong.

so, so wrong.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the next few weeks pass in a haze, slipping through your fingers like something you can’t quite hold onto.

there’s a routine now: one you never expected to have, it feels so natural you don’t even realise how much your life has changed until you stop to think about it.

half of jimin’s time is still spent with jaewook, attending games, going to events, playing the role of the perfect girlfriend.

the other half? it’s spent with you.

she comes over to your dorm more often than not, slipping into your room without a second thought, making herself comfortable in one of your stolen hoodies — the ones she absolutely refuses to return. you go over to hers too, the excuse of just hanging out with the group making it easy, natural, harmless.

ningning and minjeong don’t question it. neither does anyone else.

because in everyone else’s eyes, you’re just friends.

and it makes sense. your group has always been tight-knit. no one thinks twice about the fact that you and jimin are spending more time together.

no one suspects a thing — the only difference is that you have changed.

she brings out a side of you that you never knew existed, a version of yourself that laughs easier, that doesn’t hesitate before speaking, doesn’t feel like she’s just watching life from the sidelines.

jimin has woven herself into your life so effortlessly that sometimes you forget what it was like before.

it’s the small things. the way she always walks slightly closer to you than necessary, bumping shoulders, fingers brushing, like she’s just waiting for an excuse to take your hand.

or the way she remembers your schedule better than you do, reminding you about deadlines and upcoming assignments as if she’s the one in law school.

and the way she’s always, always around.

it’s a monday when she pulls you into the bathroom between classes. you barely have time to react before your back is pressed against the door,

jimin’s hands slipping under your blazer, her lips already on yours before you can even protest.

not that you were going to.

“what the hell —” you start, your voice muffled as she kisses you again, deeper this time, her hands smoothing over your waist, her thumb pressing just right against your ribs.

“missed you,” she murmurs between kisses, her breath warm against your lips, her body pressing flush against yours. “needed a minute.”

your brain short-circuits. “we literally saw each other two hours ago.”

“yeah,” she hums, furrowing her eyebrows slightly, her fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt. “but i couldn’t kiss you then, could i?”

your stomach flips.

“you’re silly,” you mutter, but your hands find their way to her hips, holding her close anyway.

“and yet,” she grins, kissing you again, “you’re letting me do this.”

you groan, lifting your head back slightly. “you’re gonna get us caught.”

“then be quiet,” she teases, nipping lightly at your jaw.

she exists in your space so naturally, so effortlessly, that you barely remember what life was like before her.

and at some point, without either of you saying it — she became yours. and you became hers.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the first time you realise how much things have really shifted, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of her car.

the city at night is a completely different world. the streets are quieter…stripped of the usual chaos, replaced by the rhythmic hum of passing cars and the occasional neon sign flickering against the darkness.

jimin’s mercedes glides through the near-empty roads, the soft purr of the engine the only sound between you for a while. the silence isn’t uncomfortable, but there’s something weighty about it — something hanging just beneath the surface.

you shift slightly in your seat, glancing at her as she drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the console.

the smell of food fills the car, warm and rich, making your stomach growl. you peer into the bag resting between you, the takeout container still warm in your hands. the fact that she even thought to stop for dumplings, let alone at your favourite place, is still settling in.

she doesn’t look away from the road, but she smirks slightly. “you said you were craving dumplings, so i got your usual.”

you blink, glancing at her before looking down at the container. “my usual?”

she grind, turning onto a quieter road. “yeah, pork and chive dumplings, extra chilli oil on the side.”

the answer catches you off guard. “how do you even remember that?”

she shrugs, fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel. “you mentioned it once — i remember most of the things you say.”

it’s not a big deal. at least, it shouldn’t be a big deal. but the fact that she paid enough attention to remember something so small, something you barely even thought twice about saying, makes something in your chest tighten.

you don’t respond, just pop open the container, the steam curling into the air and fogging up the plastic lid. the scent alone makes your mouth water, but there’s something almost dangerous about this — something about the way she knows you, how she remembers details most people wouldn’t.

she turns into a small, near-empty parking lot near the han river, the glow of the streetlights stretches across the pavement, casting long shadows. it’s mostly deserted at this hour, save for a few parked cars in the distance and the occasional cyclist passing by.

beyond that, the water stretches out, shimmering under the city lights, its surface a rippling reflection of gold and silver streaks.

jimin shifts the car into park, but neither of you move to get out. instead, she reaches for her own takeout container, leaning back against the headrest, completely at ease.

you watch as she picks up a dumpling with her chopsticks, taking a slow bite, her gaze drifting toward the river.

there’s something about the way she carries herself in these moments — relaxed, unguarded, like she doesn’t have to be karina here.

“so,” she says after a moment, her voice smooth, “tell me something about you that i don’t know.”

the question is simple, but it catches you off guard. you think for a second before shrugging, picking up a dumpling. “both my parents are professors at korea university.”

jimin raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “really?”

“yeah,” you say, dipping your dumpling into the chilli oil before taking a bite. “they’re both academics. my dad’s in political science, my mum’s in literature. they’ve been there for years —practically married to their work.”

she nods her head, chewing slowly as she takes in the information. “that explains a lot.”

you glance at her. “what do you mean?”

she gestures vaguely with her chopsticks. “you’re always so focused. disciplined. like you have to be the best at what you do.”

the observation is so spot-on that it takes you a second to respond. you let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “i guess i’ve just always had high expectations placed on me. they never forced me into law or anything, but…when you grow up around people who thrive in academia, it’s kind of hard not to feel like you have to prove yourself.”

she hums, as if she understands. “so you never even considered doing something else?”

you shake your head. “not really. i like law, love the structure of it. i like knowing that if you work hard enough, if you prepare well enough, you can get the right answers.”

she leans back against her seat, eyes flickering toward the river. “sounds exhausting.”

you exhale, stretching your legs slightly. “it is. but it’s also predictable, and i like predictable.”

jimin doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stares at the water, her expression unreadable. the lights reflect against her skin, painting soft golden hues along her jawline, her cheekbones sharp yet delicate under the glow.

she looks different like this — less untouchable, more real.

“what about you?” you ask, setting your chopsticks down. “what’s your favourite colour?”

she turns to you, blinking like the question caught her off guard. “my favourite colour?”

“yeah,” you say, watching her. “simple question.”

she chuckles, shaking her head before closing her container. “i wasn’t expecting that after your whole academic backstory.”

you smirk, resting your arm on the console. “not everything has to be deep. sometimes people just want to know random things about you.”

she considers this, her gaze drifting back to the river. “blue,” she finally says. “like the sky right before it gets dark.”

the answer makes you pause, your head tilting slightly. “fitting.”

she glances at you, amusement flickering in her eyes. “what does that mean?”

you shrug. “you’re kind of like that. a little unpredictable, but still…steady. i was half expecting you to say yellow or pink.”

she doesn’t respond right away, just watches you, her chopsticks still hovering above her container. there’s something in the silence; something loaded, but neither of you do anything about it.

the air between you is different here.

there’s no intensity like at dinners in public places. no secrecy like when she sneaks into your dorm. no weight of consequences hanging over your heads.

just two people in a car, eating dumplings in front of the han river, forgetting the rest of the world exists.

for a moment, it feels like something real. something that could be real.

but you both know better than to believe that.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the library is always quieter in the afternoons, tucked away from the rest of the campus chaos. the heavy scent of old books lingers in the air, mixed with the faint aroma of burnt coffee from the café downstairs.

most students are hunched over their laptops, eyes glued to thick textbooks, desperately cramming for midterms. the only sounds are the occasional rustling of pages, the soft clacking of keyboards and the faint hum of the air conditioning (you find it a little annoying).

you’ve always liked studying here. it’s peaceful. a place where nothing exists except the text in front of you.

which is why, when jimin suddenly slides into the seat across from you, you almost drop your pen.

she doesn’t announce herself, doesn’t ask if the seat is taken — just settles in, her presence smooth and effortless, like she’s done this a thousand times before.

your brain takes a second to process. it’s her. sitting across from you. in the library. in broad daylight.

she flips open a thick economics textbook, pulling out a highlighter like this is the most natural thing in the world.

you blink at her. “umm, what are you doing?”

jimin looks up, tilting her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “studying.”

your eyes narrow. “here?”

she smirks, amused at your reaction. “it’s a library, is it not?”

you glance around, suddenly hyper-aware of how public this is. nobody seems to be paying attention — everyone too caught up in their own work…but still, your pulse kicks up a notch.

“karina, we —” you lower your voice, leaning forward slightly. “this is a law library. you’re an econ major.”

she shrugs, uncapping her highlighter. “it’s jimin. and they still have desks,” you stare at her, trying to figure out what game she’s playing. she meets your gaze, perfectly calm. “do you want me to leave?”

the question catches you off guard. you open your mouth, ready to say yes, because this is so stupid— but nothing comes out.

because, truthfully, you don’t want her to.

you sigh, rubbing your temples. “fine. stay. but don’t be weird.”

she chuckles under her breath, but she doesn’t argue. instead, she leans back in her chair, scanning your notes like she’s trying to figure out what you’re working on.

you try to ignore her, refocusing on your textbook, but it’s impossible not to notice the little things. the way her knee occasionally brushes against yours under the table, the way she twirls her pen absentmindedly when she’s thinking, the way she tilts her head slightly when she reads, her lips parted just enough to show a glimpse of her teeth.

you shake your head, exhaling sharply. focus.

but then, she speaks again. “you always study alone?”

you glance at her, brows furrowing. “yeah. why?”

she hums, resting her chin in her hand. “just seems…lonely.”

you scoff. “i like studying alone. it’s peaceful.”

she raises an eyebrow. “you like being alone in general, don’t you?”

you tap your pen against the table. “what’s your point?”

she shrugs, twirling her highlighter between her fingers. “just that it’s interesting.”

“what is?”

she leans forward slightly, and for some reason, it makes your breath catch. “that you act like you don’t want people around, but you let me sit here.”

your fingers tighten around your pen. “you didn’t exactly ask.”

jimin smiles, tilting her head. “but you didn’t tell me to leave. because you like me.”

you hate that she’s right as you huff, shifting in your seat, determined to focus. “are you actually gonna study or are you just here to mess with me?”

she sighs, stretching her arms above her head before finally looking at her book. “fine, fine. i’ll be good.”

you exhale in relief, leaning back over your notes. for a while, it’s quiet again — just the soft scratch of pen on paper, the occasional turn of a page.

then, completely out of nowhere, jimin slides a highlighter toward you.

you look up. “what?”

“your notes are messy.”

you gape at her. “excuse me?”

she gestures at your page. “you don’t highlight key points. you just write a bunch of stuff down and hope you remember it.”

“that’s literally how studying works.”

she shakes her head. “no, it’s inefficient. here.” she leans in, taking your pen from your hand before you can protest. god, she smells good. “this —” she points to a sentence in your textbook, underlining it. “— is important. this —” she crosses out another part. “— is just fluff. bullshit.”

you stare at her, both annoyed and slightly impressed. “you’re so bossy.”

“i’m efficient,” she corrects.

you roll your eyes, snatching your pen back. “next time, ask before you start defacing my work.”

she throws her head back and laughs. “noted.”

the rest of the study session goes like this — light, teasing, a slow unraveling of something normal. there’s no sneaking around, no hushed conversations behind closed doors. just the two of you, sitting across from each other, pretending this is something casual.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the store is quiet this afternoon, except for the occasional students coming in to either look pretty for taehyung or ask you for notes in a class you were in centuries ago.

the bell above the door hasn’t rung in nearly an hour. through the large windows, golden leaves drift lazily from the trees lining the street, some getting caught in the light breeze before settling onto the pavement.

you lean against the counter, arms crossed, watching as taehyung stretches out on the worn-out leather couch near the entrance. he’s making a half-hearted attempt to sort through a box of new arrivals, but mostly, he just looks like he’s about to fall asleep.

“we should just close early,” he mutters, resting his head against the back of the couch. “no one’s coming in.”

“we can’t just close because we feel like it,” you say, flipping idly through the pages of an old magazine.

not like it matters, anyway, he owns the store after all. he has been at yonsei for what feels like a lifetime, and if you ask him, he’ll probably say it’s because he likes the place.

it’s not about the degree — he’s not in any rush to graduate, not when life has already been carved out for him in ways most people can only dream of. his family name carries weight, sitting on a throne like jimin’s, built on legacy and generational wealth that ensures he never has to worry about things like career paths or financial security.

taehyung groans. “but what if no one does come? we’ll have wasted an entire afternoon doing nothing. i could be with my girlfriend!”

“or your classes,” you roll your eyes, shaking your head at him.

but unlike her, who thrives under the weight of responsibility, he shrugs it off like an ill-fitting coat. he’s spent years repeating the same classes, coasting through his courses with just enough effort to avoid expulsion, and somehow; yonsei is his playground, a place where he has mastered the art of charming professors into leniency and convincing administration that he will graduate —eventually.

“you say that like you’ve been working this whole time.”

he smirks, eyes still closed. “hey, i folded, like, three sweaters.”

you should find it frustrating, the way he doesn’t seem to take anything seriously, the way he moves through life with an effortless grace that only people like him can afford. but you don’t.

because taehyung, for all his privilege, for all the ways he could be insufferable, is genuine.

he listens when you talk, buys you coffee without you asking and always pays without letting you argue about it. he’s self-aware in a way that makes him impossible to hate, carrying himself with the confidence of someone who knows exactly how ridiculous his life is but refuses to let it define him.

before you can respond, he suddenly sits up, stretching his arms over his head. “by the way, did you see the match last week? yonsei vs snu?”

“do you know the nerd you’re talking to?” you glance at him, shaking your head. “which one exactly?”

“football,” he whistles low, as if it’s obvious. “jaewook, as much as i hate that prick, completely destroyed snu’s offense. we actually have a shot at nationals this year.”

you hum noncommittally, only half interested as soon as you hear her boyfriend’s name. “that good, huh?”

“yeah,” he nods, leaning back in his chair. “i mean, he’s always been solid, but this season? he’s on another level. all the scouts have their eyes on him. guy’s practically untouchable.”

you shift slightly, the word untouchable sitting uncomfortably in your chest. “right.”

“and,” he continues, tilting his head. “he’s dating karina. so, like, the guy brags that he has everything.”

your stomach twists. “yeah,” you mutter, forcing yourself to sound neutral. “guess he does.”

taehyung watches you for a second, his gaze slightly narrowed, like he’s assessing something. “you and karina seem pretty close,” he comments casually, tossing the pen onto the counter. “she was here last week, wasn’t she?”

nearly everyday.

your grip tightens slightly around your phone, but you keep your expression carefully blank. “yeah, she stops by sometimes. giselle and the girls come in a lot, so it’s not weird.”

he hums, nodding. “but you guys, like…hang out outside of that?”

“not really,” you lie smoothly, shrugging. “we’re just in the same friend group. i don’t really know her like that.”

he seems satisfied with that answer, stretching his arms above his head before glancing toward the entrance. “makes sense,” he adds. “still, she’s kinda different from the type of people you usually hang with. bit more…” he pauses, thinking. “high profile.”

you scoff lightly, rolling your eyes. “she’s just a person, v.”

“a really amazing person according to jennie,” he corrects, grinning. “but yeah, sure, just a person.”

before you can figure out how to respond, the bell above the door chimes. the sound makes you jolt slightly, and then, as if the universe has a sick sense of humour, they walk in.

he perks up, pushing himself off the counter. “speak of the devil.”

your stomach drops.

jimin’s gaze flickers to taehyung briefly before landing on you, lingering just a fraction too long before she offers a casual smile. “hey.”

you nod back, trying to keep your expression neutral. “hey.”

giselle spots you, a slow grin spreading across her face as she nudges minjeong. “oh, look who it is,” she sing-songs, making a beeline toward the counter.

minjeong follows, smirking. “our favourite employee.”

you groan internally, already regretting every decision that led to this moment. “please don’t start.”

“who, us?” giselle feigns innocence, leaning against the counter. “we just came to shop.”

“yeah,” minjeong adds, pretending to examine a rack of clothes. “completely innocent intentions.”

meanwhile, ningning wanders over to taehyung, greeting him with a casual, “hey, how’s jennie?”

taehyung’s expression softens immediately at the sound of his girlfriend’s name, his usual laziness replaced with a fond smile. “she’s good. stressed over some campaign stuff, but that’s nothing new.”

as they all fall into conversation, you suddenly become aware of a presence much closer to you.

jimin.

she steps up to the counter, her gaze calm, unreadable. unlike the others, she doesn’t immediately start teasing you. instead, she simply says, “can you help me with sizes?”

taehyung raises an eyebrow slightly but doesn’t question it, simply gesturing toward the fitting rooms. “go for it. y/n’s got it.”

you hesitate for half a second before nodding. “sure.”

as you follow her toward the back of the store, your pulse kicks up a notch. you can feel giselle and minjeong’s eyes on you, their amusement practically radiating, but you ignore them.

when you step inside, jimin shuts the door. then, without hesitation, she locks it.

before you can even process what’s happening, she’s on you, pressing you against the wall, her lips crashing against yours.

the kiss is urgent, heated — like she’s been starving for this all day. her hands slide up your sides, fingers slipping under your shirt, her body flush against yours, warm and soft and too much all at once.

you let out a small sound of surprise before melting into her, your hands instinctively finding her waist, gripping her tighter.

this isn’t new, but somehow, every time she touches you, it still feels like the first time.

she pulls back just enough to look at you, her breath warm against your lips. “you have no idea how much i wanted to do this the second i saw you.”

your head is spinning, heart racing in your chest.

“jesus, karina —“ you begin, but she silences you with another kiss, slower this time; gentler.

“jimin,” she corrects softly against your lips, her fingers tightening their grip on your shirt. “use my name when we’re alone.”

your stomach does another flip, heat curling low in your spine. “jimin,” you murmur, barely above a whisper.

she smiles, leaning in again, her lips brushing yours just enough to make you dizzy. “good girl.”

you don’t think. you just pull her back in.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

bar code, the closest thing to a proper pub near yonsei’s campus, is packed for a wednesday night. the comforting scent of beer and fried snacks lingers in the air; the perfect place where students come to unwind, gossip and waste time before the real world catches up to them.

for you, this is a rare free evening to sit back, relax and listen to giselle and minjeong talk about things that have nothing to do with you. they’re deep in conversation, voices animated as they bounce off each other, the drinks in their hands only making them more expressive.

“i swear to god, this campus is a breeding ground for scandals,” giselle declares, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, eyes sparkling with the kind of excitement that only gossip can bring.

minjeong nods enthusiastically, already invested. “what is it this time?”

the japanese girl takes a sip of her drink before lowering her voice just enough to make it sound conspiratorial. “that philosophy professor — you know, the one who always wears those ugly tweed jackets?”

minjeong squints, thinking. “the one that makes students write for exams instead of multiple choice?”

“yes, him,” giselle leans in further. “he got caught dating a student. twenty years old.”

she lets out a scandalised gasp, hand flying to her chest. “jesus christ. is he married?”

“divorced,” giselle corrects. “but still. twenty? barely legal.”

minjeong shakes her head, taking a long sip of her drink before muttering, “some men are actually insane.”

you sit back, barely paying attention, letting their voices blur into the background. your mind drifts— again. it’s been happening a lot lately. you’ll be in the middle of something normal, something routine and then, without warning, she’ll slip into your thoughts.

jimin.

it’s not even one specific memory. it’s everything: the way she tilts her head when she listens, the way she smirks when she knows she has you cornered, the way she feels against you when she kisses you, like she’s trying to memorise every second of it.

this is dangerous. you shake your head, gripping your glass a little tighter.

minjeong nudges your arm suddenly. “y/n, you’re being suspiciously quiet.”

you blink, snapping back to the present. “huh?”

giselle eyes you, taking another sip of her drink. “you’re zoning out again.”

“no, i’m not.”

she smirks. “yeah, you are. you got that dumb little look on your face.”

“i do not —”

“oh my god, look who just walked in.”

you don’t have to ask who because before you can even prepare yourself, minjeong’s arm shoots up, waving enthusiastically.

“karina!”

your stomach plummets as you slightly turn around.

her and jaewook are standing at the entrance, fingers loosely interlocked, looking like something straight out of a university brochure — perfect, polished, untouchable.

“y/n, you are about to meet the most insufferable man on the planet,” giselle whispers with a smile. “he’s a type A asshole.”

he barely reacts to minjeong’s wave, but jimin’s eyes flicker towards your table. she hesitates for a fraction of a second, so quick that anyone else would miss it, before she tugs him forward, making her way over.

you sit up straighter, heart hammering in your chest. they stop in front of your booth, and for the first time, you’re face to face with him.

she looks at you first. then, as if remembering why she’s here, she turns slightly, her tone smooth, polite. “jaewook, this is y/n.”

jaewook barely glances at you or acknowledge giselle and minjeong at all. his focus is entirely on his girlfriend, like nothing outside of her even exists.

“hey,” you greet, unsure if you’re supposed to shake his hand or just nod.

he gives you the barest nod in return, his grip tightening slightly around her hand. “yeah, nice to meet you,” his voice is flat, uninterested, like he’s already done with this conversation.

there’s nothing polite about it, nothing warm or even remotely friendly. it’s an obligatory greeting, nothing more.

the indifference in his voice grates against your nerves in a way you weren’t expecting.

giselle shifts beside you, crossing her arms. “great chat, dickhead,” she mutters under her breath.

jimin glances at you, something unreadable flickering in her expression. you look away first, reaching for your drink just to have something to do.

minjeong, who seems to be enjoying the tension, tilts her head at jaewook. “you know, it’s funny. back when you were trying to get karina’s attention, you were way more social with us. what happened?”

jaewook finally reacts — just slightly — his jaw tightening. he doesn’t say anything, but his fingers twitch against her’s.

you don’t say anything right away, just meet his gaze, letting the silence stretch a little longer than necessary. he looks at you and you look right back.

the tension is subtle but sharp, something unspoken brewing just beneath the surface. it’s not hostility, but it’s not nothing, either.

he doesn’t seem to care enough to hold eye contact for long. he turns back to her, his grip on her hand tightening slightly, fingers shifting in a way that seems almost possessive.

she shifts beside him, exhaling softly. “we’re gonna grab a table,” she breaks the tension, looking at you for half a second too long.

you nod stiffly before looking down at your palms…trying to look nonchalant. and almost failing. “righto, see you.”

they turn away, heading towards the bar.

as soon as they’re out of earshot, giselle lets out a low whistle. “well, that was awkward as hell.”

you release a breath you didn’t realise you were holding.

“he’s always like that,” minjeong reassures, nudging your foot under the table. “don’t let him get into your head.”

“yeah,” giselle adds, swirling the last of her drink. “but i swear he was different when he was chasing her. like, really trying.”

you nod absently, still feeling the weight of jimin’s gaze. when you look up, you don’t expect her to be looking back. but she is. across the room, past the dim lights and crowded tables, her eyes meet yours.

jaewook is saying something to her, but she’s not listening. she’s looking at you. before you can even react, someone else slides into the booth beside you.

“y/n, hey,” you turn towards the voice, and suddenly, sana is there. “giselle, minjeong — it’s nice seeing you all here!”

she’s a few years older, a familiar face around campus — someone who floats between social circles effortlessly, always knowing someone everywhere she goes. her red-orange hair is styled loose, a delicate gold necklace catching the light against her collarbone.

she’s beautiful in a way that feels both effortless and deliberate.

her lips curve into a knowing smile when giselle and minjeong acknowledge her with their friendliness. “haven’t seen you in forever, specially you, y/n.”

your head is still spinning from the last five minutes, but you force yourself to focus. “yeah, it’s been a while.”

she tilts her head, scanning you with a kind of playful curiosity. “you look good. i hear law’s treating you well?”

giselle leans against the booth, smirking behind her glass. meanwhile, minjeong glances between you, sana and jimin like she’s already connecting the dots.

“it’s killing me, actually,” you admit, forcing a laugh as you take another sip of your strawberry-flavoured cocktail. “buried in deadlines — you would know.”

sana hums, eyes glinting. “shame. maybe i can help with that…sometime soon?”

the way she says it is light, teasing. but across the room, jimin’s expression shifts. jaewook leans in, murmuring something into her ear, laughing, but she doesn’t react.

she isn’t listening. her attention is still fixed on you. on the way sana’s arm rests casually against the back of the booth.

on the way you aren’t moving away like you’ve been here before.

the air between you thickens, something unspoken pressing down on your chest. you should break eye contact.

you should.

but you don’t.

the shift in the air is palpable. sana’s presence, smooth and unbothered, commands attention without even trying.

minjeong, usually unfazed by most things, blinks at sana like she’s just walked straight out of a movie. giselle, who thrives on knowing everyone’s business, seems genuinely intrigued, swirling the last of her drink in her glass as she watches the exchange unfold.

sana leans in slightly, her fingers tracing the rim of her drink, her nails neatly manicured and painted a soft pink. she’s close enough that you can catch the faint scent of her perfume — something light, floral, expensive.

“so, y/n,” she begins, voice low, smooth, confident. “you’ve been hiding from me, huh?”

not now, please, you plead internally.

leaning back against the chair, you let out a small, dry laugh. “i’ve been studying, sana — you should know that…from previous…moments.”

because she should. when you rejected her a few years back, your excuse was law, that you wanted to put that first. and how you simply just liked sleeping with her; nothing more.

she hums thoughtfully, resting her chin on her hand. “shame. a girl like you deserves some fun,” her voice dips slightly, just enough to make giselle nudge minjeong under the table. “we could start over again, you know, the way you want it this time.”

sana hasn’t changed much — still confidently sexy as ever and she’s bold enough to say this in front of your friends.

before you can even process what’s happening, her hand casually slips onto your knee under the table, her fingers light but firm, like she’s testing the waters.

your brain stutters, not entirely sure how to react. you’re not opposed to it; sana is gorgeous and has always had this way of making people feel like they’re the most interesting person in the room.

and you have history.

but it’s not her you’ve been thinking about all night. across the bar, jimin’s eyes haven’t left you.

she’s still seated with jaewook, but she’s no longer paying attention to him, her entire focus fixed on the interaction unfolding at your table. her expression is unreadable, but the sharpness in her gaze is unmistakable.

jaewook is speaking to her, gesturing lazily with his drink, but she doesn’t react, doesn’t even glance at him.

she’s carefully watching sana’s hand on your knee.

giselle, sensing the shift in energy, decides to add fuel to the fire. “so sana,” she drawls, smirking as she leans forward, “what exactly brings you to our table tonight? surely, you’ve got other people waiting to be graced with your presence.”

sana doesn’t even blink, her attention still locked onto you. “maybe i just wanted to catch up with y/n. we go way back, don’t we?”

you feel the weight of her stare intensify.

minjeong, clearly entertained, rests her chin on her hand. “oh, i see; i love old friends.”

the girl beside you smirks, finally looking away from you just long enough to flash minjeong a teasing glance. “oh, we were never just friends.”

giselle lets out a low whistle. “damn. is that right, y/n?”

you exhale through your nose, shaking your head. “sana, you love exaggerating.”

“do i?” she murmurs, squeezing your knee slightly before leaning dangerously close to your lips while reaching for her drink. “my bed has been missing you.”

and that’s the last straw.

there’s movement from across the room and in a matter of seconds, jimin is pushing away from her table, standing up. her boyfriend barely reacts, glancing up at her with mild confusion but she doesn’t offer him an explanation.

“i’ll be right back,” she mutters to jaewook, already walking toward your table before he can even respond.

she moves without hesitation, making her way across the bar, her steps measured and her posture controlled. giselle notices first, her lips curling at the edges as she nudges minjeong subtly.

“oh, this is about to get interesting,” minjeong mutters under her breath.

you feel her before you see her — before she even reaches, her presence already shifting the air around you.

she looks pissed off.

dangerous.

there’s something in this moment, something weighty and unspoken, something that tells you this — whatever the hell it is between you and her— has just reached a breaking point.

then, she’s here.

jimin stops just beside you, her hand resting against the edge of the table, fingers tapping lightly against the wood. her expression remains composed, but the sharpness in her gaze is impossible to miss.

“hey,” she greets smoothly, her eyes flicking to sana just long enough to be pointed.

sana, to her credit, doesn’t look the least bit intimidated. in fact, she just moves back slightly, swirling her drink in her hand as she studies jimin with mild interest.

“karina,” she greets, lips curling in amusement as if they’re old friends. “long time no see.”

her lips press into something that might be called a smile, but there’s no real amusement behind it. her eyes flick to sana’s hand, still resting on your knee, then slowly up to meet yours.

you swallow.

“i didn’t realise you were friends with y/n,” jimin begins, her voice smooth but laced with something sharper underneath.

sana, either oblivious or completely enjoying herself, tilts her head, squeezing your knee lightly before finally pulling away.

“we go way back,” she muses, taking a sip of her drink.

giselle and minjeong exchange a glance, as if they feel the tension thickening between the two of them.

jimin hums, her fingers tapping lightly against the table’s edge. “is that right?”

you can feel her staring at you, but you don’t know what to say.

sana, ever the smooth talker, just grins, unfazed. “it’s been a while since we caught up, though. too long, honestly.”

the other girl doesn’t smile. “well,” she says, tone light but unreadable. “it looks like you’re making up for lost time.”

you don’t miss the way sana’s lips twitch in amusement, like she knows exactly what’s happening here.

“yeah,” she agrees, tapping her fingers against her glass. “y/n’s always been good company to me.”

the way she says it isn’t outright teasing, but it lingers, something playful but knowing, like she’s fully aware of what’s happening here.

jimin’s gaze lingers on you for half a second too long before she finally shifts, tilting her head slightly.

“jaewook and i were just about to leave,” she adds, slipping her hands into the pockets of her jeans, casual but still composed. “y/n, you want me to drop you off?”

it’s not really a question — it was more of a demand.

giselle coughs, poorly hiding a grin behind her hand. minjeong nudges your foot under the table, subtly egging you on.

sana, for the first time, looks slightly amused. “oh? but didn’t you just two walk in here?”

jimin clenches her jaw; as if she knew sana was challenging her. “yeah, but he’s being an ass about them running out of chicken.”

“oh no,” giselle clicks her tongue, smiling at you. “minjeong and i are getting drunk, so yeah, maybe it’d be good for you to catch a lift with them because god knows you’ll be rushing me to leave.”

you inhale, then exhale, before nodding slowly. “yeah, okay, as long as your boyfriend’s okay with that.“

sana just hums, finishing the last sip of her drink before standing up. “another time, then,” she flashes a grin, reaching out to tap her fingers lightly under your chin. “don’t keep me waiting too long, bunny.”

there is nothing else that you want other than the ground to swallow you whole right now and then.

bunny? what the fuck.

jimin doesn’t react, but her grip on her keys tightens.

you briefly look at giselle and minjeong, who both look like they’re about to explode with something, but you don’t give them the satisfaction. instead, you follow her, feeling her presence beside you as you step away from the booth, toward the exit. on the other hand, she’s gesturing for jaewook to come.

the moment the door swings shut behind you, the cool night air hits your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating from her.

she doesn’t look at you right away, doesn’t say a word as you walk toward her car.

but the tension?

it’s buzzing.

the atmosphere inside the car is thick with unspoken tension. the low hum of the engine is the only sound for a while, save for the occasional click of the indicator and the distant murmur of traffic outside. the soft glow of the dashboard casts an eerie light over the cabin, highlighting the sharp angles of jaewook’s jaw as he sits in the passenger seat, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

she sits behind the wheel, hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tight, knuckles pale under the dim glow of the dashboard. you’re in the backseat, staring out the window, your own body wound tight, stomach twisting with something you don’t want to name.

“so, you just decided to leave because you weren’t feeling the menu?” jaewook’s voice slices through the silence like a blade, sharp and accusatory.

jimin exhales through her nose, her tone measured but edged with something simmering just beneath the surface. “you said you were hungry for good food.”

“yeah,” he scoffs, shifting in his seat. “i was hungry. and we were already somewhere. but you were the one who wanted to leave.”

her grip on the wheel tightens for just a fraction of a second before she exhales, slow and measured. “if you wanted to stay so badly, i can turn around and drop you off.”

most people were right: he is an ass.

your eyes flicker toward the rearview mirror, catching the way her jaw tightens, the way her fingers tap against the wheel — a subtle but clear warning.

she means it.

the car slows slightly as she moves toward the next exit. jaewook huffs out a breath, defeated, rolling his eyes as he slumps back against the seat. “whatever…just keep driving; you could’ve at least let me finish my beer.”

you press your lips together, inhaling slowly through your nose, trying to ignore the way your body feels wired, like every nerve is on edge. the urge to speak up for her is getting stronger by the second, but you know you shouldn’t.

it’s not your place to.

he lets the silence settle for a moment before shifting in his seat, twisting slightly so he can look back at you.

“law, huh?” the question is so offhand that for a second, it doesn’t register. then it does.

your shoulders tense immediately, something hot flashing through you — not just irritation, but the kind of simmering anger that comes when someone speaks about something important to you with complete indifference.

you narrow your eyes, forcing yourself to stay calm. “yes, law.”

jaewook hums, his gaze assessing, like he’s already made up his mind about you before you’ve even spoken. “man, you law students must be miserable.”

your fingers tighten around your knee, pulse spiking. “excuse me?”

he laughs under his breath, shaking his head like this is a joke to him. “every time i see one of you, you’re either buried in books or complaining about how hard your life is. it’s kind of pathetic, honestly.”

you blink, stunned for half a second before the anger really settles in, curling hot and sharp in your chest.

your irritation spikes so fast you barely think before responding. “yeah, because memorising constitutional law is totally the same as standing waiting for a ball to come at you.”

jimin exhales sharply through her nose, but she doesn’t interrupt.

he scoffs, shifting in his seat. “standing around waiting for a ball to come is what pays.”

your jaw tightens, anger twisting in your gut. “right. and when you inevitably tear your ACL or age out of the sport before thirty, who do you think handles your contracts? or makes sure your name gets cleared when some girl accuses you of doing something in a club you don’t remember?”

silence. his smirk falters, just slightly.

you press on. “but sure,” you continue on, tilting your head, voice dripping with sarcasm. “tell me again how you athletes have it all figured out.”

jaewook breathes, shaking his head. “oh, come on. it’s not like you’re in court defending murder cases. half of you just end up working for some rich guy, writing contracts no one bothers to read.”

your nails dig into your palm, irritation bubbling over. “and half of you end up washed up by thirty, wondering why you never learned a skill that didn’t involve your legs.”

the tension in the car spikes. his shoulders go rigid, head snapping toward you with an incredulous glare.

jimin, finally reaching her limit, steps in.

“okay, enough,” she cuts off, her voice sharper now, firmer. her grip on the wheel doesn’t loosen, but there’s something warning in her tone. “you just met, so maybe don’t act like you know each other.”

his jaw flexes, a vein ticking in his temple. jaewook doesn’t even look at her; doesn’t acknowledge her.

he’s still looking at you.

and then, just when you think the conversation is over, he leans back against the seat, his gaze flickering to the rearview mirror.

“but speaking of things i do know,” he says, tone shifting into something more amused, something mean, “i heard about you and sana…back in the day.”

your breath catches, stomach twisting into a knot.

her grip on the wheel tightens so fast you swear you hear the faint creak of leather.

you force yourself to stay calm. “what’s your point?”

he taps his fingers idly against his knee, clearly enjoying this. “that was a thing, right? you two used to — what? fuck buddies? pump and dump scenario?”

jimin doesn’t speak. doesn’t breathe.

“and you’re fucking disgusting to speak to in that manner. what’s your point?”

he shrugs, too casual. “no point. just interesting. didn’t peg you as the type.”

one swing and it’s all over.

your pulse pounds in your ears, that familiar frustration creeping in — the assumption. the way people love to put you in a box, to make opinions about you without knowing a single thing.

“you don’t even know me,” your jaw clenches, voice low, clipped, the anger barely contained. “would you like to know something else about me?”

he scoffs, rolling his eyes. “sure, let’s fucking hear it.”

“i have a black belt in brazilian jiu jitsu and can compete at a professional level,” you say loud and clear; like a warning.

he finally goes silent. for the first time all night, he doesn’t have a comeback.

the weight of the moment settles, pressing thickly into the space between you. jimin heaves out a sigh, her patience gone.

without another word, she takes the next exit. it’s quiet for next five minutes as you begin to understand why nearly everyone you have met speaks badly of the guy. he’s everything you have never wanted to be.

how she ended up with him for this long, you don’t know.

as you quietly watch from the window, you take the familiar sight in. it’s not long before she’s pulling into the bar’s parking lot, the car slowing to a firm, deliberate stop.

he blinks, frowning. “what —”

she turns to him, voice cold. “get the fuck out; your drunk ass better not pull that shit you just did on my friends again.”

he scoffs, letting out a dry laugh. “seriously?”

jimin doesn’t even blink. “yes.”

for a second, it looks like he’s about to argue. like he wants to say something else, one final jab. but then he groans out harshly, mutters something under his breath and yanks the door open.

before stepping out, he pauses, glancing between the two of you — disbelief written all over his face.

and jimin doesn’t look back at him because she is already looking at you. and then, in a voice that’s so deliberately pointed, she demands: “y/n, move to the front.”

jaewook’s expression flickers. it’s subtle, but it’s there.

she doesn’t even acknowledge whatever silent message he’s sending. she just keeps her gaze locked onto you, completely unaffected…waiting.

jaewook shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “whatever, i love you,” he slams the door behind him, stalking back toward the bar.

the moment the door shuts, jimin lets out a long breath, fingers flexing against the steering wheel.

silence.

then, finally, she tilts her head toward the empty passenger seat. “come on, baby,” she asks, voice quieter now. “move up.”

you don’t hesitate.

the air inside the car is suffocating, thick with something neither of you have the energy to name. the silence stretching long enough to become unbearable; her tense profile, a side you’ve never seen, are too obvious too tell: knuckles taut and jaw clenched, the only signs of how tightly she’s holding back.

you heave out a sigh, breaking the quiet first. “i’m sorry if i came across as mean to him,” the words come out softer than you mean them to, like they’re not entirely yours.

jimin doesn’t react at first. her eyes stay on the road, her expression unreadable in the dim glow of the dashboard. when she finally speaks, it isn’t what you expect.

“i don’t care about that.” her voice is steady, almost dismissive, like jaewook is nothing more than a passing inconvenience.

but then she breathes sharply and her tone shifts, the weight of something else creeping into her words. “but sana.”

the name lingers between you, thick with meaning. your stomach twists at the memory of her.

it started two years ago, in the way these things always do: late nights and stolen glances that lingered just a second too long. you had met sana through taehyung, a familiar face that became something more when one drunken night turned into a kiss (surprise), which turned into a habit, which turned into an arrangement that neither of you spoke about.

she was older, a few years ahead of you at yonsei, already well into her final year when you first met.

but the problem was, you weren’t looking for more.

she was.

for a while, she pretended she wasn’t. she played along with your rules, kept things light, acted like she was fine with being just another late-night call, another secret to tuck away in the spaces between everything else.

but sana was never meant to be someone’s almost.

the night it ended, she had shown up at your door, not drunk, not tipsy, but tired. tired of waiting, tired of pretending she didn’t want more. she had leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

“so what am i to you?” she asked, her voice softer than usual, missing its usual teasing edge.

you had hesitated and that had been answer enough.

she nodded, exhaling slowly, then laughed —short, dry, not really amused at all. “figured,” then, without another word, she turned and left.

after that, she didn’t look at you the same. still flirty, still playful when you saw each other, but there was a distance now, something unspoken between you that neither of you ever addressed.

“are you going to say something?” jimin’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, her fingers tighten around the wheel just slightly; the tension in her body coiling like a wire pulled too tight.

“what about her?” your voice is even, controlled, though the way she’s looking at you — sharp, questioning, jealous — makes it hard to breathe.

she doesn’t answer right away. she flicks on the indicator, switching lanes with a little too much force, like she needs something to do with her hands — something to focus on other than whatever’s burning in her chest.

“we used to sleep with each other,” you begin carefully, watching for her reaction. “a long time ago. it wasn’t serious —“

she cuts you off with a laugh, but it’s a sound devoid of humour; bitter and sharp. “really? didn’t seem that way back there. she was completely eye fucking you.”

sana’s lingering touch flashes in your mind, the way she rested her hand on your knee, the way her voice curled around your name like she still had a right to it.

jimin saw it. she felt it.

“she’s always like that,” you murmur, half-expecting her to drop it. “look, she wanted more from me, things ended because i didn’t want a relationship.”

she doesn’t drop it.

her fingers drum against the wheel once, twice, before she shakes her head. “so what?” she presses, her tone a little too casual, too controlled. “she just gets to put her hands all over you because that’s just how she is? because she still wants more of you?”

something in your chest tightens.

the lines between you and jimin have always been blurred, but this…this feels like the walls are cracking and something irreversible is spilling out between the cracks.

you sit up slightly, tilting your head toward her. “why do you even care? you have a boyfriend and i am single. whatever i do, whatever the people around me do…shouldn’t be so much of your business.”

she exhales in frustration as she runs her fingers through her hair, the muscle in her jaw tightening. her silence tells you more than words ever could.

“i thought this was casual,” you mumble nervously, looking down at your lap.

the second the words leave your mouth, something in her breaks.

she lets out a hollow, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head as she finally snaps. “there’s nothing fucking casual about us, y/n, what the fuck do you mean casual?”

the words hit like a slap.

her voice is raw, edged with something she’s been biting back for far too long. she grips the wheel so tightly her knuckles go white, frustration spilling over the edges of her carefully constructed composure.

“i don’t want to sit across the room watching some girl put her hands on you,” she continues, voice rising slightly, barely able to contain the emotion pushing to the surface. “i don’t want to pretend like i don’t care when i do. i don’t want to act like it doesn’t fucking bother me when i know exactly what she wants from you.”

her words land with the weight of a confession, sharp and heavy, tearing through the silence between you.

then, slowly, the realisation hits you. she doesn’t just like you, doesn’t just want you when it’s convenient, when it’s easy. she wants you in the way that makes her angry, in the way that makes her lose control of the perfect composure she always carries.

your breath catches, your heartbeat pounding so hard you can hear it in your ears.

she presses on, exhaling harshly as she shakes her head. “you don’t get it,” she says, voice thick with frustration. “you don’t understand what it’s like to be you.”

your brows knit together. “what the hell does that mean?”

her grip on the wheel tightens before she finally pulls over, the car rolling to a slow stop in front of an empty lot on the side of the road. the air is thick, charged, her chest rising and falling with the weight of what she’s about to say.

“every girl at yonsei wants you,” the words come out fast, almost desperate, like she’s been holding them in for too long. “do you even hear the things they say about you? do you know what it’s like to watch them talk about you like you’re some fucking prize?” she turns toward you now, her gaze locked onto yours, something raw behind her eyes. “to know that i have to sit back and pretend i don’t care when all i want is to kiss you in front of them?”

the confession lands between you like a fire set to dry kindling.

you stop breathing for a monent, fingers tightening against your thigh as the weight of her words crashes over you.

this isn’t a game anymore.

because jesus christ, she sounds possessive. territorial, even. she hates the idea of anyone else getting a piece of you, she wants you all to herself.

but the sick thing is, it’s exactly what you want to hear — you feel the same way.

you don’t want to admit it, don’t want to say it out loud, but the moments you see jaewook with her, the moment you hear her voice soften for him, something ugly blooms in your chest.

something bitter and sour and aching.

jimin swallows hard, her voice quieter now but no less intense. “i like you,” her hands flex against the wheel, her entire body tense with restraint. “i like you and i don’t know how to stop it.”

you don’t realise you’re holding your breath until your chest starts to ache.

she fucking likes you.

it shouldn’t be surprising — not after everything, not after all the stolen moments, the lingering touches, the way she looks at you like she’s memorising every detail.

but hearing her say it out loud — this…it feels like stepping off the edge of something unknown, too big to name.

your voice is quiet when you finally speak. “then be with me.”

she laughs, but it’s not happy. it’s broken, helpless, like she already knows how this ends.

“it’s not that simple,” she murmurs, shaking her head. the words sting more than they should.

your throat feels tight. “why not?”

she turns away, staring at the road ahead like she’s seeing something neither of you can stop.

“because everyone expects me to marry him right at the end…and i don’t know whether i love him or i’m only tolerating him.”

the words land like a gut punch. your fingers curl into fists, your mind struggling to catch up with what she’s just said.

jimin exhales, her voice barely above a whisper now. “we’re the golden couple,” she adds, her tone laced with resentment. “the perfect pair. the ones who have it all figured out,” she glances at you, her eyes filled with something unreadable. “except i don’t even know if i still want him.”

the admission sends something sharp through your chest. “then leave, jimin,” you suggest, voice firmer now.

she shakes her head. “i told you it’s not easy.”

your patience thins, frustration laced in your tone. “be honest with me this time: why not?”

“because everyone is watching,” she admits, voice raw. “our families, our friends, everyone— they expect it,” she turns toward you, her gaze burning into yours. “and i don’t know how to break something that’s already been decided for me.”

the weight of it all settles between you, suffocating.

but when she speaks again, her voice is softer, more vulnerable. “but the only thing i do know,” she murmurs. “is that i want you — and i want to be yours…even if we have to keep it a secret for now.”

something inside you snaps. you don’t know who moves first — if it’s you, if it’s her, if it even matters.

one second, the space between you is unbearable, and the next, she’s pulling you in, crashing her lips against yours in a way that feels desperate, helpless, like she’s memorising you before the world can take you away.

and this time, nothing about it is casual.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

part 3 — i wanna know peace again (coming)

#heliooosss #kpop x reader #kpop gg #aespa x reader #kpop imagines #aespa imagines #aespa #karina #karina imagines #karina x reader

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0cta9on · 3 days ago

Text

Unlikely Duet - 9

Length: 8k+ words

Genre: Fluff (does this count as fluff anymore? lol :>)

NJZ Minji x Male Reader (OC)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

Yuno’s POV

“W-what… What the hell are you two doing?!”

Sunghoon stands there, a fire in his eyes, searing right through Minji and me. My skin grows cold. I don’t move. Don’t breathe. Hell, I can barely think—just moments ago, I was basking in the warmth of Minji’s lips, and now I feel like I’m drowning in an ocean of dread.

Minji breaks the silence first.

“Sunghoon, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts her. “Don’t even think about trying to talk your way out of this one, I saw what you two were doing. Minji, what the hell are you thinking?!” He glares at me with the same look of disdain I’ve been receiving all night. I’m sick of it. But I can’t do anything about it. Not with Minji here. Not after what I promised her.

“I-I was… I just…” Minji squeezes her eyes and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Look, it doesn’t matter what we were doing, it’s none of your business.”

“Actually, it is my business. Your parents told me to look out for you tonight and make sure that he doesn’t cause any trouble,” he retorts, pacing back and forth. Even after he calls me out, he doesn’t dare spare me a single glance—like I’m something filthy, not worth being in his vision.

“He didn’t!” Minji argues, her breath growing heavier. “I’m the one that kissed him, alright?! It was me! It’s all my fault! So don’t point your dirty fingers at him!”

Sunghoon scoffs, like we’re some unfathomable impossibility. “How naive can you be?! Do you really think someone like him is right for you?! You’re making a mistake, Minji.”

“The only mistake I made was thinking you could grow into a decent person!”

The last of her words echoes into the night air. Sunghoon’s expression drops, just a smidge, but I can see it. She cut deep. Deeper than I thought she was capable of. Impressive. And a little terrifying.

Shards of Sunghoon’s broken glass crunch under his feet as he takes a tentative step back. The fire in his eyes is gone, replaced by something I can’t quite understand. They’re emptier, maybe even sorrowful.

“I’m sure your parents will love to hear about this,” he mutters before walking back inside.

Minji and I freeze like statues, lost in thought. My gaze stays fixed to the ground, unable to meet her eye. What the hell can I say anyways? I can barely process my own feelings as it is, and now, I’m left dealing with a whirlwind in my head. How am I supposed to face her? I don’t know what will happen now. Everything happened so quickly. What the fuck do I do?

“U-um…” Minji breathes, all the heat gone from her voice. “You should probably go.”

My eyes shoot up towards her. “What about you?”

“I-I’ll be fine. I think.” She takes off my sweater from around her shoulders and hands it back to me. “H-here. You’re probably cold.”

I am cold. Freezing. But she’s the only one that can warm me up. Not some sweater. Her. “Minji…”

She pushes the sweater into my hands, her touch lingering against my skin for a bittersweet moment. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay,” she says, more to herself than me.

Before I can utter another word, she walks back inside, sparing me one more glance before she disappears behind the doors. There’s an uncertainty within them. She sounded so confident before, but I can see it in her eyes that it’s all just a front. God, I hope she’ll be okay.

I sneak out of the building, carefully avoiding everyone from the banquet, and leaving this place of opulence behind. I never should have come. I never should have kissed her. Minji took the fall for me and I’ll regret it every day. What was I even thinking? No matter what, something always goes wrong. I should’ve listened to myself.

I plop down onto the curb and send a text to my dad to come pick me up. The wind howls around me, laughing at my predicament, cruel and mocking. The moon watches from above, a silent witness to everything that just happened tonight. I wish it would tell me what to do. Whatever higher being that exists up there, I wish it would just give me a straight fucking answer—in fact, I wish it would just spare me some mercy and end it already. Quit giving me hope just to throw it down the drain. Fuck.

It’s so goddamn cold.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

The city passes by in soft blurs through the car window, streetlights smearing golden hues across the glass. Stars dot the night sky with their shimmering light, and a full moon trails by our car like a guardian of safe nightly travels. As beautiful as it is, my gaze is fixed on the window, not to enjoy the view, but simply to survive. One wrong look at my parents could be the final crack that breaks the dam.

Tense silence fills the car. Only the hum of the engine and the occasional bump in the road remind me that this is all real. My parents’ silhouettes loom in front of me, and I don’t dare look or think or even breathe in their general direction. I would be lying if I said I wish they didn’t just yell at me and get it over with. The suspense of waiting is always worse than the actual punishment.

The familiar layout of our neighborhood enters my vision and it doesn’t take long until we’re rolling into our driveway. The car comes to a complete stop, the engine deafens, but none of us move. I clench my teeth to slow my breathing, afraid that one small peep will set them off, but I fear the uneven pounding of my heart can be heard from the front seat.

Mother leaves the car first. I start to unbuckle my seatbelt, but a single, frigid word from my father stops me in my tracks.

“Stop.”

I gulp, sitting upright in my seat. Despite my mother’s absence, the space inside the car feels impossibly smaller.

“Y-yes, father?” I say.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We trusted you to do the right thing. I let you invite that boy because I thought he was actually taking steps to better himself, but instead, you…” He trails off into a frustrated exhale. My mother’s anger, for all its fire, is at the very least predictable—bearable. But my father is something else entirely. Colder. Sharper. The quiet fury of a man who knows how to get people to do what he wants without ever raising his voice.

“What do you have to say for yourself, Minji?” he asks, tone low and cold.

I rack my mind for an answer, debating on defending Yuno or giving him a response that will satisfy him. If they just give Yuno a chance to show them who really is, that he’s not at all what he appears to be on the surface, then they’ll know that he isn’t as bad as they think he is. But they won’t listen. They never do. Not when it matters.

“I… I apologize, father. What I did was a… mistake,” I utter. Another lie leaves a bitter taste on my tongue.

“A mistake,” he repeats, sending a chill down my spine. “What have I told you before about mistakes?”

“Th-that we…” It’s getting harder and harder to breathe properly. “That we learn from them.”

“I will make sure you learn from this then. Give me your phone.” He glares at me through the rear view mirror while he reaches his hand back towards me. A sense of panic rallies itself within my chest.

“W-wait, I need my phone,” I beg, my voice faltering. “I-I need it to coordinate with the other student council members for prom prep, a-and I—”

“You should’ve thought of that before completely taking advantage of my trust,” he shoots back. “Minji. Give it. Now.”

With a shaky hand, I retrieve my phone from my purse. My fingers curl around it like it’s the last piece of control I have left. Truthfully, prom preparations are the last thing on my mind at the moment. My entire world is contained in this little box. My friends. My life. Yuno. I need to make sure that he’s okay. After everything that just happened, I just need to talk to him. To talk about everything. To talk about us.

“Minji,” my father all but barks at me. “Phone. Now.”

Maybe one day, I’ll stop listening. Maybe one day, I’ll speak up. But the words never come. I relinquish my phone, my lifeline to the outside world, into his palm. I can only watch helplessly as it disappears into his coat pocket.

“I’m only going to say this once,” he continues. “You are not to see that boy ever again. If you have a project with him, switch partners. If he walks the same direction as you, you go the other way. Don’t even think about going behind our backs this time because we will know. Do you understand?”

A shaky breath releases itself from my lungs as I fight back a tear. I want to scream, I want to fight back, tell him that he’s being unreasonable and controlling. But I can’t. I can barely breathe as it is.

“Y-yes, father. I understand,” I answer.

“Good,” he speaks. “Now go to your room. It’s late.”

I don’t say another word as I get out of the car and head inside. There’s no point. He won’t listen. He won’t change. Neither of them will. The house feels cold and soulless as I shut the front door behind me. The living room is furnished, the fridge full of food, the walls decorated in old family photos, but there’s no love in these four walls and there hasn’t been for a long time. This place is nothing more than a glorified prison.

Even my room doesn’t feel like mine anymore—just another cage for me to sit in. I collapse onto my bed, not bothering to change or get ready to sleep. I just stare at the ceiling fan, watching the blades go around in a circle.

All that energy, just to stay in the same place and serve one purpose. Forever.

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

I’m fucking exhausted. My mind wouldn’t let me sleep—just constantly looping that same scene over and over. I could have let Sunghoon have it. I could have explained to Minji’s parents that she did nothing wrong. I could have just stayed. Let them hate me. Blame me. I wouldn’t have cared.

But instead, I just… left.. And now I don’t know what happened to Minji or why she isn’t texting me back.

My dad clears his throat. “Um, aren’t you gonna eat? You’ve barely taken a bite out of your pancakes.”

I glance up at the table, my breakfast practically untouched. “I’m… not hungry,” I mutter. I’m starving.

“Ah, okay…” he nods. “Is this… Is this about last night?”

I don’t answer. What’s the point? He can’t fix it. I can’t fix it. Nothing will change the fact that I didn’t do anything. Minji went through all that trouble to defend me and I didn’t do anything.

My dad sighs. “Look, um… I can tell something happened, but I don’t want to force you to talk about it if you don’t want to. Just know that I’m here for you whenever you’re ready, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay,” I breathe. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I snatch it out like a reflex—just another message from Yujin. I don’t bother reading it this time. I just shove it into my bag, letting it sink to the bottom where I can forget about the damn thing. “I should get going.”

“Then, why don’t I, uh, put your pancakes in some tupperware and you can have them later if you’re hungry?” my dad suggests with a small grin. Truthfully, I don’t know if I’ll have the appetite later. Or at all. But he’s trying, despite everything.

“Yeah. Go ahead,” I answer before heading to the front door. He nods from his seat, but I don’t look back.

The sun’s out. Not a cloud in the sky. Birds overhead. People jogging, laughing, talking to neighbors. It’s a perfect day.

And I hate it.

Every step is heavier than the last, like the weight of my emotions are dragging me down into the dirt. I try to keep my head down, shove my hands in my pockets, pretend that everything is okay, but I can’t quite shake the constant throbbing in my temples. The pit of dread in my stomach keeps growing bigger and bigger, threatening to swallow me whole if I let it. And maybe I’ll just let it. But not before talking to Minji.

I trudge through Evergreen’s hallways straight to my locker. Winter and Yujin are waiting there, worry painted on their faces.

“Yuno!” Yujin exclaims as he sees me. “Are you alright? We waited by the convenience store, but you never showed up.”

“A-and you didn’t answer any of our t-texts or calls,” Winter adds.

“I’m fine,” I sigh, pushing past them to my locker. For a second, I want to tell them everything. The banquet. The argument. The kiss. God, the kiss. But the words don’t come. They never do.

“Are you sure?” Yujin asks. “You look… not great.”

“It’s nothing. Just…” I can barely finish my thought as a crowd forms at the end of the hallway. The sound of chatter grows louder, seemingly centering around one person. I can just barely make out the top of their head.

“W-what’s happening?” Winter asks, stepping behind me.

“No clue.” I could care less if it’s some celebrity or the president or whoever the fuck. As far as I’m concerned, this day has already gone to shit. The last thing I need are any surprises. I shut my locker and turn to head to class, but someone running towards the crowd bumps against my shoulder. “Watch it, you fucking—”

The crowd parts just enough. And there he is. Sunghoon. Grinning. Laughing. Like none of it ever happened. He notices me watching. He fucking smirks.

My blood starts to boil. I don’t care why he’s here or why he has on the Evergreen uniform, all I know is that I need to hurt him. I stomp towards him, my breath growing heavier and my fists clenched, ready to give that son of a bitch what I should’ve given him last night. I barely register the sound of Yujin and Winter calling out to me. He needs to pay for what he did. I need to hurt him. I need to—

“Wait.”

A hand grabs at my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

“What the fuck do you—” I look back and see Danielle’s serious expression glaring back at me.

“Come with me. Now.” Before I can answer, she pulls me down the hallway and away from Sunghoon. Yujin and Winter look back at me, confused, right before I turn the corner.

I groan in anger. “What are you doing?! I was right about to—”

“Shut up,” she commands. “Minji told me everything. If I let you do what you were about to do, you would have regretted it.”

“M-Minji?” All the anger leaves my system at the mention of her name. I stop resisting as she pulls me along, the echoing of voices growing fainter behind us. “Is she… Is she okay?”

We stop in front of a supply closet. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?” she says, opening the door to the closet. In between the dusty shelves lined with cleaning supplies is Minji. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“You only have a couple minutes before class starts. Make it quick,” Danielle explains before pushing me in and shutting the door, leaving the two of us in this cramped space.

We can barely meet each other’s eyes. My skin suddenly feels very warm. Not uncomfortably so, just… warm. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I spent all night and all morning wanting to do nothing more than talk to Minji, and yet, I have no idea where to start. So, I start with what anyone would start with.

“H-hi.”

“Hi,” Minji utters, her voice small yet steady.

“Um…” I gulp, trying to calm my nerves. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“I, uh, I texted you. You never, y’know…”

“Right.” She lets out a long sigh. “My parents took my phone away.”

“Oh.” At least she wasn’t ignoring me on purpose this time. “I’m sorry.”

She offers me a small yet reassuring smile. “It’s okay, I’ll just—”

“I’m sorry for leaving you,” I blurt out. “Last night. I, uh… I should’ve stayed. I should’ve done something. Anything. You stood up for me, and I…”

Minji grabs my hand, cradling it gently in her palm. The words get caught in my throat and my heart stops for a moment, her touch like electricity against my skin. “Don’t apologize,” she says gently. “I’m the one that… did that to you. It was my fault. And I don’t want you getting yelled at because of something I did.”

I finally build up the courage to look her in the eyes. Even in the dim light of the supply closet, they somehow shine like the brightest stars in the night sky—Beautiful, yet unreachable. “It wasn’t entirely your fault. I also… did that to you.”

Minji chuckles softly, and I forget everything happening outside. Right now, it’s just the two of us, hand in hand, in our own little pocket of the universe. No Sunghoon, no parents, no expectations—just us.

The one-minute warning bell reminds me that life isn’t that simple.

“Hurry up, you two,” Danielle reminds us from the other side of the door.

Minji lets out a heavy sigh, her gaze falling to the floor. “I’m sure you saw already, but Sunghoon enrolling here isn’t just some coincidence. My father told me that I can’t be around you anymore, and Sunghoon is here to make sure that I don’t disobey him,” she explains, her voice small.

My heart drops from my chest, free falling into the pit left in my stomach. “W-what? But—”

Danielle peeks her head through the door. “We have to head to class now or else we’ll be late,” she warns us, an apologetic look in her eyes.

“W-wait, I—”

“I’m sorry, Yuno,” Minji says, letting go of my hand. “I’ll think of something. Just… avoid me for now.”

I can’t get another word out before her and Danielle run off to class, leaving me alone in this musty supply closet. The space she occupied just seconds before seems so vast and empty now. Her warmth still lingers on my fingers. I don’t want it to fade.

If I knew this would be the first and last time I got to hold her hand, I would’ve done everything I could just to hold her for a second longer. Now all I have is the ache of her hand leaving mine.

______________________________________________________________

My spork picks at the mush sitting on my lunch tray, completely untouched. No matter how loud the grumbling in my stomach gets, I just can’t seem to bring myself to eat anything. Not after what just happened.

Minji’s words echo through my mind. How am I supposed to just avoid her? A couple of weeks, that would’ve been easy—we were nothing more than passing faces to each other. But now, she’s all I ever think about these days. I want to talk to her. I want to hear her voice. I want to be with her. But I can’t. And it’s all because of that rich piece of shit.

“U-um, Yuno?” Winter asks, her voice barely heard over the whirlwind in my head. “A-are you a-alright? You’ve b-been really quiet.”

“Quieter than usual,” Yujin adds. “It’s getting a little worrying, man.”

I sigh. “I’m just… having an off day. I’ll be fine.”

Yujin frowns, but doesn’t push. “You’d tell us if something was wrong… right? We’re your friends,” he says. All I can give him is a small nod. I know I should tell them and quell their worries, but I just can’t. I’m weighed down enough as it is. I don’t need them going down with me.

A burst of laughter shoots out from the center of the lunch room. Sunghoon is at the middle of it all, chatting and laughing with Bryce’s group of all people. Of fucking course. Trash attracts trash. He notices me looking at him, but I don’t even bother trying to mask the anger in my eyes. Let him fucking glare back. In fact, I wish he would come up here and do something about it. My life is already fucked up as it is. I don’t mind putting the last nail in the coffin if it means I get to slam him into the pavement.

“Y-Yuno…”

“WHAT!?” I bark, my chest rapidly rising with heavy breath. Half of the lunch room goes silent as they look back at me, confused and scared from my sudden outburst. It takes too long for me to comprehend Winter’s eyes squeezed shut and her shaky hands shielding her face.

Shit. “S-sorry, I didn’t…” I sigh, taking a moment to calm down. “I’m sorry, guys, I just… I-I…” What the hell is wrong with me?

Winter lowers her hands slowly, blinking at me with wide, glassy eyes like she doesn’t even recognize me. I pick up my tray and toss it into the trash as the whole lunchroom watches me leave. I just need to be alone right now. I glance back at Yujin and Winter one last time, but I can’t meet their eyes. All I see is Sunghoon’s shit eating grin as the doors shut behind me.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

I sigh, refreshing my email for the hundredth time, waiting for a response from my treasurer. Do people not check their emails nowadays? I could get a reply in seconds if I just had my phone.

I shut my laptop and rest my forehead on the table, feeling utterly exhausted despite barely making any progress on prom. The library is supposed to be a quiet place to get work done, but with all the noise rumbling around in my head, it’s impossible to even think straight. Every time I try to get on track, Yuno’s face pops up in my mind like an ad that I can’t get rid of. One I don’t even want to, honestly.

He looked so sad when we talked in the supply closet. So tired. We finally got a chance to talk last night, and now I have no idea when I’ll be able to see him again. And that kiss. Everytime I close my eyes, it’s like I can feel him on my lips again. That same electricity, that same warmth, that same tenderness.

“Yo Minj.”

“AH!” I jump up in my seat, my yelp echoing throughout the library and receiving a harsh shush from the librarian.

Hanni points and laughs at me as my face grows warm from her ridicule. “Girl, what’s got you all jumpy? Daydreaming about Yuno again?” she teases with that impish grin.

I sigh and faceplant into the table. “No… Maybe, I don’t know…” I grumble.

“Aww, look at you, all in love and stuff.” Hanni plops down into the chair next to me, laying her face down next to mine. “So how’d the banquet go? You never texted us back last night.”

I let out a long groan, muffled by the table. “My parents took my phone.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Ooh… Sounds serious.” She scoots her chair closer to me. “I’m listening.”

I sigh, mentally preparing myself to relive last night’s events over again. “Okay, so… God, where do I even start?”

“Whatever you feel like telling me,” she says, patting my back.

“Okay, uh… The banquet itself was fine, just a lot of talking to people. I could tell Yuno was overwhelmed, even if he tried not to show it. He ended up sneaking outside to get some fresh air, and then we had a chance to talk, just the two of us. I apologized to him for freaking out about the, uh—”

“The kiss you almost had in the nurse’s office?” Hanni interjects with an impish grin.

Is she trying to spill my secrets to the whole library?! “Hanni!”

“What, am I wrong?” she giggles.

“...N-no.” I swear, she’s going to give me a heart attack one of these days. “A-anyways, I finally got to apologize, and then we just continued talking, and then, uh… We, uh…” Oh God. I kissed him for real. That wasn’t an “almost” or a dream or some hallucination—that was real.

The way I go silent and red in the face must have set off an alarm in Hanni’s head because all of a sudden, her grin spreads so wide, the Cheshire cat would look like a regular stray kitten.

“You…! Did you two…?! You did, didn’t you?!” Hanni rapidly fires, smacking my arm in excitement. “Minji, Oh my god!”

I bury my face into my hands, the delayed realization hitting me like a speeding train. I kissed Yuno Lin. For the first time in my life, I, Minji Kim, kissed a boy. And it was amazing.

And now I can never see that boy again.

I let out a long, sad groan into my hands at the thought. I’ve been a straight-A student all my life, I’ve helped out whenever I could, I try my best to show everyone kindness and respect, can’t the universe throw me a bone and let me have this one thing go right? I love my parents, but why should their opinions matter when it’s my life at the end of the day? I just want to date a stupid boy.

“Hello,” I hear Danielle’s voice greet, followed by the sound of her taking the seat next to me. “What’s her problem?”

“Did you know about this?!” Hanni asks her.

“The banquet? Yeah, Minji filled me in earlier. Yuno was there, Minji got to apologize, and then that one guy she hates got her in trouble, and now she has no phone and can’t speak to Yuno. Did I miss anything?”

“So you knew about the kiss and didn’t tell me?! Dani!”

“Kiss? What kiss?”

I peek through my fingers, catching Danielle’s eyes, wide with concern, aimed straight at me. “I, um… I may have, uh…” I stutter.

Danielle gasps, clapping her hands over her mouth. “Minji!”

“Shhh!” the librarian shoots at us from her desk. “Ladies, keep it down!”

“S-sorry…” I mutter with an apologetic smile.

“Wait, who’s the guy that you hate?” Hanni asks.

“Sunghoon,” I grimace, his name leaving a bad taste in my mouth. “He’s just an awful human being. Our parents are friends, so I was forced to be around him basically my entire childhood. He caught Yuno and I… y’know… and told my parents about it, so now I don’t have my phone, and he enrolled into Evergreen today to make sure that Yuno and I can’t be around each other.”

“Jeez, dude,” Hanni sighs, resting her head on my shoulder. “That really sucks.”

Danielle pats my knee, nodding in agreement. “We’ll do whatever we can to help, okay? This is a very… complicated situation, but you shouldn’t have to deal with all that alone.”

I breathe, feeling slightly lighter than before. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

The hair on the back of my neck suddenly stands up as I feel an off-putting presence enter the room. My gaze shoots the library doors, and the devil himself walks in, strutting around like he hasn’t just ruined my life. Sunghoon leans against the librarian’s desk, shooting her that cheesy smirk. It’s all just an act, a mask that he puts on to trick other people into thinking he’s a good person. But I know the truth. Underneath that mask is nothing but an ugly slimeball of arrogance and egotism.

He notices me glaring at him, grins, and shoots a wink in my direction before walking off. Disgusting. If karma exists, I hope it takes everything Sunghoon ever did to me and gives it back to him tenfold. If only fate were that kind.

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

Yujin and Winter exchange concerned glances as I lean against my locker, just barely holding myself up. As if yesterday wasn’t bad enough, today I somehow feel so much worse. Still couldn’t get a wink of sleep, still couldn’t bring myself to take a bite of breakfast, and I’m honestly surprised I managed to make it to school without passing out in the middle of the street.

“Winter, this is getting really bad,” Yujin mutters to her. She whispers something back into his ear that I can’t quite make out. Fuck, I still haven’t apologized about my outburst at lunch yesterday. I just left without another word. It seems like that’s all I’m good for these days.

I open my mouth. Try to say anything. But all that comes out is a grunt, like even my throat has given up on me.

“Yuno, we’ve tried being patient, but this is getting too much,” Yujin says, raising his voice a bit. “What is going on?”

I look at them. I see the worry in their eyes, their lips pressed together into thin lines, waiting for me to say the magic words that’ll make all of this go away. I want to tell them. God, I really want to. But I can’t. What good would it do?

Maybe they’d want to help, but there’s nothing they can do to change the fact that I’m still the same piece of shit that Minji’s parents believe I am. If they somehow get rid of Sunghoon, then what’s next? They send another ten Sunghoon’s to spy on us in his place? They move Minji to a different school halfway across the world? Hell, they probably have enough money to pay a hitman to make my death look like an accident. And with how my life is going, maybe I wouldn’t mind that.

“I’m… fine,” I lie, my voice scratchy and low.

Yujin just sighs, his head hanging low. “No, you’re not…” I hear him mutter under his breath.

I just need a moment for myself to think. Some peace and quiet. That’ll help. Surely. I stumble past the two of them, dragging my feet underneath me, my vision just clear enough for me to not bump into anyone else in the hallway. I don’t know what I’m gonna do or how I’m gonna do it—I never have—but the fluorescent lights are too bright, and the colored tiles on the ground are too dull, and everything is just so loud, and I just need to be alone right now.

Through the vague silhouette of students, I meet a certain pair of honey brown eyes at the end of the hallway and time stops. It’s quiet now. It feels like forever since I last got to peer into Minji’s eyes. She’s so close—yet, we couldn’t be farther apart than now. There’s so much I want to say. I miss her. No amount of physical pain I’ve ever suffered compares to the aching in my heart when I think about her. I almost wish I never met Minji just so I never have to feel this way.

The illusion breaks as Sunghoon steps into my sight, towing around the worst kinds of people Evergreen has to offer. That son of a bitch. Worse yet, he approaches Minji, and they all crowd around her. I can’t make out what they’re saying. They’re all laughing around her, but she looks uncomfortable. Sunghoon just keeps on flapping his lips, spewing some bullshit probably.

And then he puts his arm around her—before I can take a second to think, my legs are already dragging me towards him. My heart beats loudly in my chest, pumping adrenaline into the rest of my body, preparing me for what I’m about to do. I don’t care anymore. I don’t care who he is or what Minji’s parents will do if I touch him. I’m sorry, Minji, but old habits die hard.

“...Minji and I are actually old childhood friends—AGH!” I interrupt whatever stupid story he was telling and grab his neck, slamming him into the lockers with a loud thud that echoes throughout the hallways. Everyone goes silent, watching this whole scene with bated breath. Fuck it. Let them watch. I want everyone to see the beating I’m about to give this son of a bitch.

My ears ring like sirens going off in my head. My chest rises with rapid breath. I squeeze my hand, tightening my hold on Sunghoon’s neck, desperately wanting to see the life drain from his eyes—but all he does is laugh. Like this is some fucking joke. Like taking away the one thing that made me happy was some harmless prank.

“I-I’m sure… Minji’s p-parents… would love to h-hear about this,” he manages to choke out. Tell them for all I care. Let’s see how you talk with a broken windpipe.

“Yuno!”

I hear Minji’s voice, and all of a sudden, I come back to my senses. The way she says my name, her voice cracking like she’s stepping carefully on thin ice, trying not to fall under. Regret fills my head like a thick smoke, making it hard to decipher what’s right and wrong.

“Put him down. Please,” she urges gently. Reluctantly, I loosen my grip on Sunghoon’s throat and drop him to the floor. My hand shakes like it has a mind of its own, yelling at me for not following through. It would have been so easy to end everything right then and there. But I didn’t. Because of Minji.

I glance back at her, at Yujin and Winter, at the crowd of students watching, bewildered and completely terrified. I don’t say anything—What could I even say in a situation like this?—and I just walk off to god knows where.

Everyone’s staring. I can feel Minji’s eyes on the back of my head, the words I didn’t say burning holes in my throat. I don’t turn. I don’t stop. I just need a single fucking moment.

To think. To breathe. To not exist.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

My laptop is open. The student council room is peaceful, quiet, the kind of calm I crave when I’m working—but all I can do is stare blankly at the screen. How can I possibly focus after witnessing all of that?

It was… scary. I’ve never seen Yuno look like that. Sure, I’m aware of his past and the things he’s done, but he didn’t seem like his normal self. I’m worried about him. My mind keeps replaying that same scene over and over again, Yuno’s hand wrapped around Sunghoon’s throat, trying to make sense of it all. I keep seeing that look in Yuno’s eyes. That wasn’t his normal self. It was something darker. Angrier. Fearful.

I don’t know. I just hope he’s okay.

“Hey there,” a voice says from the doorway.

I flinch. Speak of the devil. Sunghoon steps into the room, that same off-putting grin plastered on his face as he looks around the room. “Nice place you got here,” he comments, chuckling at his own joke.

I don’t look at him. “What do you want?”

“I come bearing gifts.” He sets a wrapped pastry in front of me. “You look tired. You should eat something, y’know, fuel for the brain.”

I slide the pastry back towards him. “No thanks.”

“C’mon, Minji. I insist.” He slides it back towards me, and it takes me every ounce of my self-control to not blow up in his face.

“Is this all you came to do?” I ask curtly, not sparing him a glance.

“Well, no. I actually came to talk to you. Heard you were in charge of prom preparations.”

“Yeah. So what?”

“Just wanted to know how things were going.” Sunghoon sits back onto the table, relaxed and slow. How pleasant it must be, to live so selfishly. “Do you… have a date for prom?” he asks, looking up at the ceiling.

I slam onto the keyboard a bit too hard, grabbing his attention. “If you don’t have anything useful to say, then I suggest you leave. Only student council members are permitted to enter this room.”

“What’s got you so worked up?” he chuckles, as if I said something funny. Surely, he has to be doing this on purpose? There’s no way he’s this oblivious, right?

“Look, can you just leave already? I’m trying to get work done.”

He scoffs. “What is your problem? I’m trying to be the nice guy here and you’re acting like I kicked your dog.”

I huff, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration. “Are you kidding me? After everything you did, you think you’re still the nice guy in this situation?”

“Oh my god, is this about what happened with Yuno?” He lets out a laugh full of amusement. “He’s the one that attacked me, I’m the victim here!”

“Maybe you deserved it,” I mutter.

The smirk from his face drops just a bit. “You don’t mean that.”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’ve only been here two days and you’ve done nothing but make life harder for both of us.”

Sunghoon squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a long exhale. “I can’t believe you’re still hung up over him. Can’t you see that he’s wrong for you?”

“You don’t even know him—”

“I don’t need to know him!” he lashes out, jumping to his feet and pacing around the room. His mask slips, just for a moment. There he is. “He’s nothing but a knuckle-dragging gorilla that only knows how to solve problems with his fists!”

“Sunghoon, shut up—”

“You’ve only known this guy for what, a couple weeks?! I’ve been there for you my whole life! I’ve always looked out for you!”

“I don’t need you looking out for me! I never have!” I shoot back. My vision stings. My chest is about to explode. But I won’t cry. I won’t give him that satisfaction.

“Oh my god, do you know how insane you sound?! You’re making the worst decision of your life by choosing him!”

I slam my laptop and stand up to meet his level. “Get out,” I command, low and firm. “Now.”

He scoffs in my face. “Minji, let’s just—”

“OUT!”

The echo of my own voice rings in my ears. My throat burns from the scream. But I don’t regret it.

Sunghoon flinches at my outburst. “Fine,” he mutters, straightening out his uniform. I don’t stop glaring at him until he leaves the room, and even then, my gaze stays focused on the door for a few minutes after he leaves like I’m expecting him to pop his stupid little face back through the doorway.

After standing there for a while, I finally collapse back into my chair—exhausted, frustrated, and utterly lost.

All this stress because I kissed a boy.

One moment of happiness. And somehow, everything fell apart.

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

I should’ve kept my head down.

I should’ve walked away.

I should’ve known better.

But I didn’t. And now…

God, what the hell am I even doing anymore?

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here in this empty classroom. Could be hours. Maybe the bell rang. It doesn’t matter. I’m just… tired. Not the kind of tired that a couple hours of sleep can fix. I can feel it rooted in my bones, eating away at my organs like a cancer.

My phone keeps buzzing every now and then. I don’t bother to check them anymore. It’s just Yujin and Winter. I don’t even know where to begin with them. I feel sick, pushing them away like this. But I can’t move. I can’t speak. I can’t do anything but sit here and stare at the dusty shelf by the windows.

Maybe I would’ve been content never meeting Minji. If I hadn’t offered to walk her home, if I hadn’t spent the night at her house, if I hadn’t ridden that Ferris wheel with her, then maybe I would never have learned the pain of having someone so close to your heart, only to be ripped away in the blink of an eye. That night underneath the full moon where we shared our first and final kiss felt like so long ago.

She was right there. In my arms. The stars reflected in her eyes, her hair draping down her neck like silk, her lips gently pressed against mine, soft and delicate. I wonder if it was all real or just a mirage created by fate to trick me into thinking something good could happen.

For a moment, I try to picture life without Minji. Floating from class to class, head down and my hands in my pockets. Probably continue sticking my nose into places where I shouldn’t be, getting into more fights, gaining some new bruises. Maybe I would be expelled at this point. Or worse. But at least I wouldn’t have to feel like this. I would never have to know what I was missing.

My phone buzzes against the desk. Then another. And another. I groan and finally check it, expecting another text from Yujin or Winter.

But it’s not them.

An unknown number flashes on the screen, calling me. I answer it. I don’t know why. Maybe curiosity or a random gut feeling.

I say hello, I think. It comes out more like a grunt than a greeting. An unfamiliar female voice comes through the speaker. She asks me if I’m Yuno Lin. I say yes. Her words come in vague blurs, but her tone sounds urgent. Something about a hospital. Alcohol withdrawals. Passing out on the street.

My dad.

I hang up before she can finish and sprint out of the room. My feet slam against the ground with each step, trying to navigate through the halls. I get weird looks. I knock a few people over. But I don’t care.

I just need to get to the hospital as soon as I can. Please be okay. Please, please, please…

______________________________________________________________

The doors of the ER blast open and I stumble in, sweat dripping down my face and my legs on fire from running all the way here. Everything is immediately overwhelming—the fluorescent lights, the onslaught of chatter, the sharp scent of chemicals. I rush over to the front desk, gripping the counter to keep from falling over.

“I-I got a call,” I gasp. “M-my dad, Ian Lin. They said he was brought here.”

The nurse behind the counter glances up at me, already typing something into the computer. “Your name?”

“Yuno. Yuno Lin.”

She types some more, picks up the phone, and says something into it that I can’t make out over the roaring in my ears

“He’s in Room 12. A nurse will come shortly to escort you there.”

My eyes dart around to the various hallways leading to who knows where. Fuck. Where’s Room 12? Where am I supposed to go? The last time I was at the ER was when my mom…

“Yuno Lin?” A woman in navy scrubs calls out my name, beckoning me gently. “This way.”

I follow her down the white hallways, passing by rooms full of sick and injured people. White’s supposed to make you feel at ease, but all it does is conjure up old memories of the worst day of my life. The constant beeping of machines, nurses and doctors talking over each other, the fear in my mind making me unable to think straight. For fuck’s sake, I can’t go through this again.

We arrive at Room 12 and I see my dad laying there, unconscious and hooked up to various machines. His hands tremor against the sheets. Sweat covers his body. His skin’s gone pale like wax. He’s never looked this small before.

But he’s breathing. It’s weak, but he’s breathing.

“Your father was brought in after having a seizure, likely triggered by alcohol withdrawals,” the nurse says gently. “He’s stable for now and getting the care he needs, but we’ll be monitoring him closely for the next 24 to 48 hours. He’s dehydrated and his vitals were erratic when he came in, but we’ve got him on fluids and medication to manage the symptoms.”

I don’t speak. I just watch my dad’s chest rise and fall slowly with breath. The nurse gives me a soft pat on the shoulder before exiting the room, leaving me alone with him. I don’t move. I can’t. Like there’s an invisible barrier between me and the hospital bed. Like I’m just watching him through a screen. I’m afraid if I get any closer, it’ll all be too real.

Eventually, I turn around and leave, only to be met with the same sad white walls that line the inside his room. My legs can only carry me a couple steps before I collapse onto a bench in the hallway. I’m so fucking exhausted. Not just from today or yesterday—from the past 18 years of my life. I don’t know why I bother waking up when this is all there is. This lonely, draining, shitty existence.

I let out a single, shaky breath. And then the tears start to fall. They drain from my eyes like a dam that finally breaks, leaking through my fingers even as I try to cover it up. Is this really it for me? Dragging myself through life, just to end up here again—same tragedy, same helplessness, same shitty story. Just with a different parent in the bed this time.

The gentle hand of a stranger rests on my shoulder as I cry. I don’t turn to see who it is. I couldn’t face anyone. Not like this. But as the tears dry up and there’s no more left to cry, I’m forced to confront the fact that the world is still turning. I’m still here.

“Th-thanks,” I mutter softly, sniffling. I turn my head to meet the kind stranger that sat by me, but with the tears clouding my vision, I swear they look like Minji for a moment.

I can’t help but let out a low chuckle. “God, do I really miss her that much?” I ask, more to myself than them. “I’m sorry you had to—Minji?”

A small smile breaks through her trembling lips.

“Hey,” she whispers.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

The hospital room smells like bleach and wilted flowers. The TV’s stuck on some stock report that I don’t care to understand and the constant beeping feels like it’s coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

I sit quietly, smiling like I care—but I don’t know this man. He’s just some high-ranking executive at my father’s company. I don’t know why he’s here, or what illness he has, or what I’m supposed to feel. Frankly, I couldn’t care less. I’m just here to keep up appearances that the Kims are a put-together, stable, nuclear family.

“Thank you again for visiting me, sir!” the man says to my father. “And Minji, it’s so good to see you again! You’ve grown up a lot since I last saw you.”

I give him a polite smile. It doesn’t reach my eyes. “It’s a pleasure to see you as well.”

My father checks his watch. “We should get going. We do hope you feel better soon, Mr. Nam.” It’s almost impressive how a kind sentiment like that manages to lack so much warmth, even as he says it with a full smile. I wonder if that’s where I learned it from.

As soon as the door shuts behind us, the curtains close and the three of us are back to our regular selves—cold, distant, and silent. The hallways echo with the sound of expensive shoes, too expensive to be sensible for a hospital. Appearances are appearances. They tell me what to wear and how to act, like I’m their perfect little doll instead of their living, breathing, human daughter. It’s all about the illusion—give everyone a good look so they think you’re fine.

“How were classes today, dear?,” my mother asks as we step onto the elevator. It descends to the first floor with a monotonous hum.

“They were fine, mother,” I answer. Succinct, poised, and proper—exactly how they told me to speak.

“Just fine? I can set you up with a private tutor if those classes aren’t challenging enough for you,” she says, taking out her phone. “Mrs. Park recommended me all of Sunghoon’s tutors, their résumés are truly remarkable.”

I fight back a sigh. The last thing I need is to start an argument in this cramped space. “I will… think about it.”

Thankfully, she leaves it at that. The doors open to the first floor, and as we make our way towards the exit, I feel an odd tingling sensation on the back of my neck. I freeze in my tracks, an invisible force keeping me from moving.

“Minji?” my father says, looking back at me. “What are you doing? Let’s go.”

I shake my head. “My apologies, I just feel… odd.” I look around at the hospital, searching for something—but I’m not sure what. My eyes dart from person to person, looking for a hint of familiarity within them.

“Is something the matter, dear?” my mother asks, but I don’t answer. I’m not sure what it is, but I feel like if I exit those doors, I’ll regret it for the rest of myself. Through the haze of sterile white coats and tired faces, I spot him—a lone boy, hunched over on a bench, shoulders trembling, hands in his face.

My breath catches in my throat. In an instant, I know who it is. I make a dash for him, ignoring my parents calling out to me as a thousand questions float around in my head.

Why is Yuno here?

Is he okay?

Why is he crying?

I slow down as I near the bench, not wanting to startle him. My heart breaks in two seeing him like this—crying, alone, in the hospital of all places. I sit down next to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Each sob sipples through his body and it takes all my restraint not to cry with him. Whatever happened, he needs support. And I want to be that for him. So many words dance on the tip of my tongue, but I keep them to myself for now. We’ll have a chance to talk later. I’m sure of it.

I stay with him until the end. Eventually, Yuno calms down and lifts his head up. He looks… beat down. Like he hasn’t slept in days. His words back at the banquet echo in my head, reminding me of just how much he suffered in his life. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve any of this. I want Yuno to be happy. I want to see him smile without fear. I want to see him laugh without constantly looking over his shoulder. I want to see what he looks like when he’s freely and truly happy.

I don’t care about what my parents think, or what Sunghoon thinks, or what anyone else thinks about him for that matter. He deserves to live a life where pain isn’t the only thing he knows.

“Th-thanks,” Yuno mutters softly as he turns to face me. He lets out a low chuckle, wiping the tears from his eyes. “God, do I really miss her that much?”

I grow curious for a moment. Who does he miss?

“I’m sorry you had to—Minji?”

I push the thought to the back of my mind, a small smile breaking through my trembling lips as I gaze at Yuno’s face for the first time in what feels like forever.

“Hey.”