Han-rinaâs masterlist
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@han-rina
Han-rinaâs masterlist
You again?
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3

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Out Of My League Pt.2
Park Minju x Male Reader
Fluff
It was finally time for what most high school students liked to call the highlight of their teenage lives.
Well...most of them, anyway.
For some, it was nothing more than an overpriced event designed to make students spend ridiculous amounts of money on clothes they would only wear once before shoving them into the darkest corner of their closets or returning them to the rental store.
For others, it was practically a holiday to an extent.
It was just one night but that was all it took for the school gymnasium to transform into something almost unrecognizable.
Gone were the squeaky basketball shoes, half-hearted morning assemblies, and painfully boring lectures that made students question every life decision that led them there. In their place were fairy lights draped across ceilings, elaborate decorations that tried very hard to scream elegance, and slow music that promised either magical confessions or deeply awkward dancing.
And most importantly, there were no uniforms.
No stiff blazers.
No wrinkled ties.
No skirts measured by strict school rules.
Just dresses that glittered beneath warm lights and suits tailored enough to make boys suddenly think fixing their hair once or twice would mold their attitude into gentlemen.
I'm talking about prom of course!
Which explained why Minju currently looked like she wanted to try each and every excuse to not go.
"This is stupid."
Her friend groaned for what felt like the fiftieth time that evening.
"You've said that twelve times already," Yunah said from across the room.
"Because it remains true all twelve times."
Minju stood in front of the full-length mirror in her dress shop, aggressively adjusting the fabric of her dress like she could somehow bully it into becoming less embarrassing.
"This feels weird."
"Did you suddenly develop an allergy towards dresses?"
"I might have at this point."
Yunah snorted from her seat near the fitting room platform, one leg crossed over the other as she watched Minju spiral in real time.
The shop was far too bright for Minju's liking.
Every employee looked far too excited and every rack around her hung dresses that looked like they belonged to people significantly more confident than she was.
The dress she wore was simple compared to the others she had been bribed into trying on.
And by that, she meant Yunah had to bribe her with a week's worth of free lunches and the promise that she would use her position in the media club to hide the unflattering prom photos before they were posted online.
Minju had accepted far quicker than she cared to admit.
The dress she currently wore was teal.
It hugged her waist before falling softly down her legs, the fabric smooth and tiny silver details lined the straps.
"Do I really have to go?" Minju asked.
Yunah had already stood up from her seat, already pushing through hangers of dresses.
"Yes," she answered immediately.
Minju frowned at her reflection.
"It sounds boring anyways. You just stand around while the loud music blasts into your ears and eat food no better than what the cafeteria serves."
"Don't be like that," Yunah replied as she pushed another hanger back. "You already submitted your attendance sheet plus (YN) is going to be there."
Minju nearly tripped over absolutely nothing.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Her head snapped toward Yunah so fast it almost broke off her head.
Yunah slowly turned to look at her then smiled.
Minju immediately knew she had fallen into a trap she should've seen a mile away.
"I don't know, I just thought that it would motivate you just a tiny bit."
Minju stared at her.
"...No," she said flatly.
Yunah blinked. "No?"
"No, it doesn't motivate me knowing he will be there."
"Don't be so rash, don't you want to see what he looks like in a tux?"
Minju opened her mouth and raised to point a finger at her yet nothing came out.
And that alone told Yunah everything she needed to know.
A grin spread across her face with the speed of someone who had just caught her friend in denial.
"Oh my god," Yunah gasped dramatically. "You do want to know."
"I do not."
"You practically blue-screened in front of me."
Minju turned back toward the mirror quickly, crossing her arms across her chest tightly.
"I was simply caught off guard by how ridiculous your question was."
Yunah hummed. "Mhm."
"It's not like I care what he wears."
"Yeah, sure you don't."
"He could show up in a trash bag and I still wouldn't care."
"That sounds weirdly specific." Yunah's reflection struggled not to laugh.
Minju narrowed her eyes at the mirror.
Annoying as it was, Yunah's question had already planted itself in her brain like a virus, already creating more thoughts and images in her mind uninvited.
What would you look like?
Would your hair still be slightly messy because you always forget to fix it?
Would your outfit stay smooth all through the night or would you move enough to mess it up and create wrinkles.
Would you somehow still look annoyingly comfortable with everyone else while she shoved herself to a corner?
But most importantly,
Why was she thinking about this?
"This is your fault," Minju muttered.
Yunah looked offended. "For being a supportive friend?"
"For being so annoying like everybody else."
Minju groaned and dropped into the small platform seat beside the mirror.
"I genuinely don't understand why everyone acts like prom is some grand event."
"Because for some people it is."
"It's dancing in the school gym."
"It's about the memories you make throughout the night."
"You get tabbed for pictures that are way overwise."
"C'mon, it's romantic."
"Disgusting." Minju made a face like she had tasted expired milk.
"That's very bold coming from someone who literally accepted crocheted flowers from a boy and carried them home like they were the ark of the covenant." Yunah laughed.
Minju went completely still.
"H-he was just being generous." She replied.
Yunah's laughter only grew louder.
"Generous?" she repeated. "Minju, he bought you handmade flowers because you once said real ones die too fast. That's not generosity. That's him remembering something oddly specific that came out of your mouth on a random day."
"That does not mean anything." Minju's face heated immediately.
Yunah stared at her as the expression on her face turned into the blank one her friend always used.
"It's very surprising how long you've gotten when you are this dense."
"I am not dense." Minju gasped.
Yunah let out a laugh so loud that one of the employees glanced over in concern.
"You absolutely are," she said, wiping at the corner of her eye. "You're academically gifted yet socially...dense."
Minju stood from her seat again, glaring as Yunah approached her..
"Let me ask you something," Yunah said.
"No."
"You don't even know the question."
"And yet I still know I won't like it."
Yunah ignored her.
"When he gave you those flowers, did you throw them away?"
"No." Minju's lips pressed themselves together.
"Did you leave them somewhere in your room and forget about them?"
"...No."
Yunah's eyes widened theatrically. "Wait. Don't tell me."
Minju immediately looked away.
"Oh my god," Yunah whispered like she had uncovered government secrets. "You kept them somewhere special."
"I did not."
"Minju."
"They're on my desk." she groaned.
Yunah continued to stare at her.
"They're on my desk," she repeated through gritted teeth. "And before you say anything, it's only because throwing them away felt wasteful."
"You stare at them before bed, don't you?" Minju gasped at how easy she was to figure out. "I hate talking to you."
"You like him." Yunah said, looking far too pleased with herself.
"No." Minju immediately shook her head.
"You do."
"No."
"You are literally blushing."
"It's just hot in here."
"We're standing in a place with air conditioning."
She scoffed as turned back toward the mirror and stared at her reflection.
The teal dress really did look nice and it was unfortunate because now she actually looked like someone attending prom with the possibility of being looked at by everyone else.
Her fingers lightly touched the frills of her dress.
"What if I look ridiculous?" she asked quietly.
"You don't." Yunah's teasing softened almost instantly.
"That's easy for you to say."
"No, Minju," Yunah said gently. "You really don't."
Minju met her eyes through the mirror.
Yunah smiled, "You look beautiful."
Just like that, all of Minju's sharp yet sarcastic defenses seemed to fade away.
Her shoulders relaxed, only slightly.
"And when (YN) sees you during prom, I hope he forgets how to breathe." Yunah immediately continued.
"Yah! Noh Yunah!" Minju nearly slipped on the platform.
"What? That's supposed to be a good thing."
"It is not a good thing if he actually passes out and dies in front of me."
"Fair point. That would ruin the mood." Yunah shrugged.
Minju turned to look at herself in the mirror once again. The skirt of the dress pooled around her shoes as she held them.
For a moment, she simply stared.
"This still feels weird." She narrowed her eyes at her reflection.
Yunah laughed from behind her. "Looking pretty?"
"No, that's normal. I always look pretty." Minju flicked some strands of her hair behind her.
Yunah tried to hold in her laugh before it bursted right out of her.
"Oh my god," She wheezed through a breath.
"Why are you laughing like you're choking?" Minju raised a brow at her friend.
Yunah clutched her stomach dramatically as she tried and failed to recover.
"You said that with a completely straight face."
"Because it's true."
"That might be the most confidence you've shown all year."
She rolled her eyes and stepped off the platform carefully before one of her sneakers slipped on seemingly air and almost sent her crashing into a rack of expensive dresses.
"Yeah, shown a lot of confidence with that one." Yunah was practically folded in half now, laughing so hard she had tears gathering in her eyes.
The rack of expensive dresses trembled violently as Minju grabbed it on instinct, saving both herself and a hundred thousand won worth of fabric from falling to the floor.
The heat started to build up around the rest of her face as Yunah gathered herself somehow and helped her up.
"If you're gonna break the dress already, at least go to prom first."
"I meant to do that," she said immediately.
"Yeah, yeah, just go get changed again then we could head home."
Minju released the dress rack slowly, using the thought of home to hide her embarrassment.
Once she had her footing, she muttered under her breath the entire way back to the fitting room.
I hate this.
Why is this dress so stupidly long?
I should've stayed home and done literally anything else.
As Minju stepped out of the fitting room, finally dressed in her usual clothes again and no longer one misstep away from ruining the entire store, Yunah waited for her in front of the register with the dress already protected under a plastic sheet.
"What are you doing? I've already decided that I'm not going."
Yunah smiled politely at the woman across the counter. "Ignore her. She says that every fifteen minutes or so."
"I'm serious this time."
"Yeah but you were serious the other times too."
Yunah handed over her card before Minju could reach out and stop.
The machine beeped, and soon after payment was accepted for the both of them.
Just like that, Minju's fate was sealed with one very cheerful receipt.
The employee handed over the garment bag with a smile. "I hope both of you enjoy prom."
Minju forced out something of a smile as gratitude while she imagined herself leaving already internally.
The moment they stepped outside, the cool evening air hit her face.
She inhaled deeply.
The city streets glowed under streetlights while people walked past carrying an assortment of things, shopping bags, purses and backpacks as they traveled through the sidewalk.
Yunah bumped her shoulder lightly, their bags tapping each other in the process.
Minju looked between them before looking away.
"Thanks for the dress." She mumbled.
"No problem! That's what friends with rich parents are for."
Minju let out a quiet scoff.
"That sounds unbelievably spoiled when you say it out loud."
"What? It's true." Yunah gasped loudly. "My mom said if I was going to spoil myself, I might as well do the same for my friends."
Minju rolled her eyes before she started down the sidewalk. Yunah soon followed her footsteps that led them to the nearest bus stop.
Along their little stroll, Minju had fallen quiet though that wasn't that much different to what she normally did but her friend felt something was off in her silence.
She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you silent?"
"Were you expecting me to start freestyling to keep the conversation going? Minju answered sharply.
Yunah chuckled as she shook her head. "Anyways, I was just wondering..." she said, moving on to something new.
"What if he asks you to dance?"
Minju stopped walking so abruptly that someone behind her nearly walked into her.
"What?"
Yunah turned around slowly, entirely too pleased with herself.
"At prom."
"I heard you."
"Then why do you look like your soul just left your body?"
Minju swallowed a breath then she started walking again at a pace that looked suspiciously like fleeing her question.
"That won't happen."
"You sound very sure." Yunah matched her pace.
"Because he would never ask me."
"And why not?"
"Because..." she started before she softened. "Because why would he? He's this outgoing, social butterfly that anybody could just walk to and I'm just...Minju."
"Saying that as if you didn't just call yourself pretty earlier." Yunah replied quickly after.
Minju froze on the spot as her breath stopped midway down her throat.
After another chuckle, her teasing expression softened slightly.
"You know," Yunah said quietly, "sometimes I think you're the only person who doesn't realize how much he likes being around you."
Minju laughed once in disbelief.
"That's ridiculous."
"Is it?"
"Yes."
"He waits for you after class."
"That's because our classrooms are right next to each other."
"He bought your favorite snacks that one time."
"It isn't my fault he also likes the same flavor of chips and bought one too many."
"He remembers things you say that even you forget saying," Yunah continued.
Minju opened her mouth as she remembered the bouquet sitting on her desk.
"That proves nothing." she finally said after another moment.
"Minju." Yunah gave her a long look.
"What?"
"He bought you crocheted flowers."
"That is just a one time thing..."
"He bought them because you said people spend money on things that wilt after a week," Yunah said in one breath, "That's not something who just wants to be friends with you would do!"
Minju turned to face her, brows burrowed in slightly. "I remembered other things he says but I also remember things you say and all of our other friends said, it isn't unusual to do so."
Once Yunah was shut down, she turned to take more steps down the sidewalk.
"Then what about the way he looks at you?" She heard her say from behind.
Minju froze on the spot yet again.
She didn't turn around and she didn't breathe right away either.
"In what way?" she asked, but it came out softer than she intended as if it was from her own curiosity than to retort
Behind her, Yunah didn't answer immediately.
"The way he looks at you," she repeated, slower this time, "likeâlike he was always only looking at the moon in the sky and not the miniscule stars around it."
Minju let out another short and disbelieving scoff.
"That sounds like something straight out of a fairy tale."
Yunah gave a small, almost helpless laugh, like she knew exactly how ridiculous it sounded and still meant every word anyway.
"It is," she said simply. "That's kind of the problem."
Minju finally turned her head a little, just enough to glance back.
"You're saying things like that again," she muttered. "You're going to make me regret accepting that dress."
"No, you're going to regret not noticing things sooner," Yunah corrected.
Minju scoffed, but it came out weaker this time. "There's nothing to notice." she continued on, approaching the blue-roofed bus stop down the sidewalk.
Yunha quickly caught up with her, matching her pace before she asked another question.
"When he looks at you...do you really not notice it?"
Minju's steps slowed again.
Streetlights painted soft light across the sidewalk while cars passed in one by one beside them. Somewhere nearby, teenagers laughed too loudly outside a convenience store. The world kept moving as if Minju's heart hadn't suddenly decided to perform cartwheels against her ribs.
She tightened her grip around the bag she was holding.
Minju sighed through her nose.
"Ofâof course I notice when people look at me," she said carefully.
Yunah tilted her head. "And?"
"And..." Minju hesitated as she realized the problem.
The problem was that she noticed everything.
The way your eyes always found her first in crowded classrooms.
The way your expression softened whenever she rambled about things she claimed not to care about or when she was proclaiming to the world how much she hated you.
The way you looked proud whenever she succeeded at something as if her achievements somehow belonged to you too.
The way your gaze lingered just a little too long sometimes before you awkwardly looked elsewhere.
And the worst part?
She noticed how her stomach flipped every single time.
Minju stared ahead at the bus stop.
âI thinkâŚâ she said, softening her voice. âI think he looks at me like Iâm worth more than what I am.â
The moment the words left her mouth, she wished she could grab them out of the air and shove them back where they came from.
âThatâs not a good thing,â she added after a moment, more to herself than to Yunah. Â
Yunah glanced at her. âWhy not?â
âI justâŚâ she started, then stopped before she tried again. âI donât know what heâs seeing when he looks at me like that.âÂ
The girl next to her exhaled softly, like sheâd been holding it in for a while.Â
They walked under the bus stop.
Minju took a seat first before Yunah sat down next to her.
âDo you think heâs wrong for looking at you like that?â she asked, placing the bag over her lap.
Minju hesitated, âI donât know,â she admitted. Then, almost stubbornly, she added, âMaybe he is.âÂ
Yunah hummed softly, her voice carried by the soft breeze that blew by. The light above them flickered then steadied. She leaned back slightly, letting the bench creak under her weight.
âI think I know what you're afraid of.â she finally said.Â
Minju looked over with the sides of her eyes.
âYou're afraid of someone actually seeing you and for them to actually care.â Yunah said in a single breath.Â
She heard a scoff beside her.
âSince when were you this poetic?â Minju mumbled before she felt a soft shove against her elbow. She rubbed the spot slowly.
âSeriously though,â Yunah leaned forward, resting her elbows against her knees. âYouâre scared that if you believe he likes you and youâre wrong, youâll feel stupid.â
âThatâsââ Minju tried to retort.
Keyword, tried.
Her shoulders eased either in defeat or they also grew tired of her hiding behind herself.
âI just think,â she said quietly, âthat he'll just leave after he realises I'm not as interesting as he thought.â
Minjuâs eyes dropped to the floor.
âMy grades are good.â
âI know how to make myself useful.â
âI know how to be someone people can rely on.â
Minju looked up at the traffic in front of them.
âBut when thatâs goneâŚâ
She swallowed hard.
âWhatâs left?â
Yunah looked at her like she couldnât believe Minju could sound like this.
âWhatâs left?â she repeated softly.
âMhm, yeah.â
Yunah reached over and flicked Minjuâs forehead.
âOuch!â
âWhatâs left,â Yunah said, ignoring her glare, âis the girl who argues with teachers when they grade unfairly.â
Minju blinked at her.
âThe girl who pretends she hates helping the younger years but somehow always does when they ask, even if it's the simplest thing.â
âThe girl who acts annoyed when her friends call her crying at two in the morning but still picks up every single time.â
Minju stared at her.
âAnd the girl who should come out of hiding and face her feelings head on.â Yunah smiled softly.
The bus stop fell quiet around them.
A bus roared past without stopping, wind following behind it hard enough to push loose strands of Minjuâs hair across her face. She tucked them behind her ear absentmindedly.
Yunah smiled softly at her then her expression relaxed again.
âIt shouldn't be that easy.â Her head dropped again. âWhen people like you,â Minju said softly, eyes fixed on the pavement below her shoes, âthereâs always a version of you they like first.â
âThe useful version.â
âThe smart version.â
âThe version that gets things done.â
Minju laughed bitterly under her breath.
âAnd when they find out youâre actually difficult or insecure or annoying or that sometimes you say the wrong things and push people away before they can leave firstâŚâ
Her throat tightened.
âThey leave anyway.â
Yunah stared at her friend like she was seeing a side of Minju had been pushed away for years.
She reached over and grabbed Minjuâs hand, warmly and sincerely.
âHe already sees those parts.â
âWhat?â Minju blinked.
Yunah squeezed her hand.
âHeâs seen you snap at people, seen you overthink, seen you act like you hate compliments and seen how cranky you are before tests.â
A reluctant laugh escaped Minju before she could stop it.
Yunah smiled softly at the sound like she had been waiting for it.
âAnd he still stayed.â
Minjuâs smile slowly disappeared.
âHe stayed after all of your bad moods, he stayed after your sharp words, he stayed after every opportunity he had to lose interest.â
Her voice softened again.
"And he still stayed, didn't he?"
Minju looked away first, her ears beginning to burn. She leaned back against the bench and looked up at the night sky.
There werenât many visible stars tonight, just the moon still shining brightly high above the city.
Against all logic, her thoughts drifted back to you.
Your laugh.
Your stupidly kind face.
The way you looked at her like she was something soft enough to protect and strong enough to admire at the same time.
âSo what if he asks me to dance?â she whispered.
Yunah turned so fast she nearly fell off the bench with a gasp.
âSo you are imagining it!â
Minju groaned immediately. âWhy are you yelling?â
âBecause you want him to dance with you!â
âI said what if. That is not the same thing.â
âIf he asks you to danceââ Yunah grabbed both of her shoulders dramatically.Â
âHe wonât.â
âand thatâs a very weak if, because I just know he willââ
âYunah.â
âYOU are going to say yes.â
âI donât dance.â Minju stared at her as if she was speaking in another language.
âYou just sway awkwardly for three minutes and it'll all be over. Thatâs literally all slow dancing is, you just do the dance!â
âThat sounds horrifying.â
Yunah rolled her eyes.
âAnd despite that, I think a tiny part of you wants it to happen.â
Minju looked away first, not wanting to give her friend any more fuel for her teasing.
As if it were on cue, their bus pulled up with a loud screech.
The doors pushed themselves open.
Minju stood up from the seat first.
âGo on, be careful on your way home.â Yunah said, standing up right after her. âIâll take a cab back to my parentâs place.âÂ
Minju hesitated before the first step.
Just a small pause, right there at the edge of the bus door, like her body had briefly forgotten which direction it was supposed to go.Â
ââŚyou too,â she muttered, not quite turning around.
Yunah smiled, raising a hand at her. âText me when you get home.â
âI always do.â
âI know. I just like saying it.â
Minju rolled her eyes at her then finally stepped onto the bus.
-
"I'm home!"
Minju closed the door behind her with a heel and locked it soon after.
Her voice echoed faintly throughout the house with no response coming from any corner.
She wasn't expecting any different.
Her mother often worked late shifts at the hospital as one of the nurses going through the halls and going room to room while her father usually didn't come home until long after midnight if he was buried under paperwork at the firm.
The apartment was quiet in the familiar way that felt neither lonely nor comforting.
It was just the way it normally was.
Minju slipped off her shoes near the entrance and lined them up neatly against the wall out of habit before dragging herself further inside.
She walked through the dark living room and to the kitchen where she turned on the lights.
Moments after, her footsteps carried her up the stairs and towards her room where she pushed the door open and flicked open the light switch for her to see the lightly pink walls and her bed that had sheets and pillows of the same color scheme.
She placed the bag over her bed and walked to the long mirror that stood beside her closet. Leaning in, she took a closer look at herself, carefully pushing some strands of hair behind her ear.
Minju grabbed a plush headband that hung from the side as she slowly got started with her nightly routine that she had done plenty of times before.
She began with a warm bath then began applying all of the facial products she needed in front of the mirror.
When she was back in her room, she quickly got changed before heading downstairs for her dinner.
The soft whirring of the microwave echoed through the home as Minju leaned against the counter waiting for the small cup of instant noodles to finish cooking.
This was how her nights normally went when both of her parents were still out by nighttime.
Not that she minded though, of course.
That was what she always told herself.
She thrived in silence anyways, that was where she felt mostly like herself. She could make noise all she wanted, make whatever she wanted to eat, accidentally drop a pan or two, shout down the halls and watch the TV loudly with no repercussions.
But sometimes, she wouldn't have minded it.
She wouldn't have minded if she came home to a freshly cooked meal.
She wouldn't have minded if someone asked how her day was.
She wouldn't have minded if someone asked how the dress looked on her.
DING!
The microwave came to an abrupt stop as the light inside died.
Minju stared at its small window for a moment before pushing herself off the counter.
The cup was warm in her hands as she peeled back the lid.
Steam rose upward, fogging her vision for half a second before disappearing just as quickly.
She grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the drawer and made her way back to her room.
Placing it over her desk, she crouched down under the table and after a couple of plugs being pushed into sockets, the computer whirred to life.
The screen blinked awake as it transitioned to her home screen.
Minju pulled herself back into her chair, crossing one leg over the other as she stirred her noodles absentmindedly. Her desk was cluttered in the very specific way only her desk could be, stacks of neatly highlighted notes, pens sorted by color., sticky notes with deadlines scribbled across them, a half-finished worksheet she had promised herself she would complete tonight.
She looked right beside her lamp, her eyes narrowed.
The crocheted flowers still sat where she last placed them, inside a glass cup she had stolen from the kitchen because she refused to admit she needed somewhere "proper" to put them.
The soft yarn petals were still perfectly intact.
Minju let out a dramatic sigh before taking a bite of noodles, reaching over to her mouse and clicked some apps open allowing her to spend time on another hobby of hers.
Video games.
She continued eating as a queue continued to count upwards on her screen.
She was almost finished with the cup of noodles when the words popped up on her screen.
'Match Found!'
"Finally." Minju straightened in her chair immediately, nearly dropping her chopsticks onto her keyboard.
She clicked accept without hesitation, adjusting her headset over her ears as the loading screen appeared. The game music swelled dramatically through her headphones while usernames slowly populated the lobby.
Sometimes, this was better than what real life had to offer because games are wonderfully simple.
You either won, lost or drew.
You either carry your team or watch them make decisions so catastrophically stupid that it makes you wonder how they managed to survive crossing a road in real life.
Her fingers moved quickly over the keyboard as the match officially began after bans and picking which champion to use.
-
The game went on as usual, taking most of Minju's focus.
Beside her keyboard was where her phone was, laying with a dark screen before it suddenly buzzed to life.
The vibration cut through the low hum of her computer.
Minju didn't notice it at first.
She was mid-fight, her fingers were prepared on her skills, eyes sharp, posture leaning forward like she could physically intimidate the enemies to feed their gold into her.
But then it buzzed again, then again and one more to fully gain her attention.
"That better not be Yunah."
She dodged another attack before quickly glancing down.
Her phone screen lit up and her entire body froze.
Your name with three unread messages.
Her character stopped moving entirely.
Which proved to be a catastrophic decision.
You have been slain.
Minju looked at the grayed screen in front of her with the timer ticking down.
With a disgruntled sigh, she picked up her phone to finally read what you had sent her way.
Her respawn timer continued ticking down in the corner of her monitor.
"What kind of question is that?"
She stared at the screen.
Was this normal?
Did people text each other about prom so casually?
Was there a hidden meaning?
Was he asking if she had a dress?
If she had plans?
Worse, what if he was going to ask if she had a date?
Her champion respawned but she didn't move.
She picked up her phone for a moment.
Three little dots appeared on her screen immediately.
Her eyes narrowed themselves.
The phone buzzed again.
Just like that, her stomach dropped.
For a second, Minju genuinely considered throwing her phone across the room. Instead, she stared at the message so hard it nearly burned into her retinas.
Hesitantly, she typed right back.
Minju stared at your reply in complete disbelief.
"What." her eyebrows slowly furrowed.
Was that really it?
Was that all you were going to say after causing her entire body to freeze in place?
Her phone remained still in her hand before her attention was pulled back by the familiar pinging sound. Her eyes drifted back to her screen where multiple question marks started appearing around her character.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm here." Minju mumbled, placing the phone down and already reaching back for her mouse.
Then her phone buzzed again.
Minju didn't look at it.
Actually, she refused to look at it.
Her eyes stayed glued to her monitor, fingers snapping back into motion as if nothing had happened.
A picture passed through her imagination right after, one that was you staring up at your phone and waiting for her reply.
Maybe you were looking at your phone with stupid puppy dog eyes that would have totally worked on her.
Her jaw tightened.
No, she would have to reply to you right after the game.
She wasn't going to reward you for appearing out of nowhere, make her mind race just from one message then cower back to whatever hole you crawled out of.
Minju clicked furiously around her screen.
And after multiple team fights around the map, across the three lanes and inside towers, the victory carefully materialized itself on her screen.
Her phone buzzed a couple more times through all of it and she was proud enough of herself to not check it even once.
She reached for her cup of noodles instead only to discover the broth had gone cold.
Finally, she picked up her phone again and opened them to see the messages you've left.
And just like that, all of her irritation dissolved and so did most of her curiosity.
"...idiot." she mumbled.
Minju stood up from her seat, contemplating whether to still type up a reply.
Then she heard a sound from downstairs.
A rhythmic tapping against metal that echoed softly through the gap she'd left open on her door.
She was sure that she locked the front door when she got back and she was even more sure that neither of her parents left anything else open downstairs.
But still considering that she was home alone, she couldn't help but feel hesitant.
"What's that?" she dropped her arms back to her side, fingers grazing the screen lightly enough to tap the phone icon over your profile.
Then she walked out of her room.
-
Across the city, you stood inside of your room. Your hand rubbed a towel over your damp hair from the warm shower you just got out of.
Your phone vibrated suddenly against the pillow you left it on.
For half a second, you just stared at the screen.
You pressed it against your ear, towel still hanging around your neck while water dripped from the ends of your hair onto the floor unnoticed.
"Hello?"
From the other side of the call, you could faintly hear the faint sound of her footsteps.
"Hello?" you said again, a bit louder this time.
Silence followed until you heard a loud creak of metal come from her end.
"It was just the tap." Minju spoke, voice full of relief.
The girl stood in the kitchen, hand having just pushed up the faucet and oblivious to what was going on with her phone.
"Park Minju!"
The girl turned around the empty home, startled by the voice of someone calling her name. Looking across the dim living room to each dark corner, she could've swore she didn't imagine it.
"What the hell?" her grip on the phone tightened instantly.
"MINJU." On the other end of the call, you nearly choked.
She looked down to her hand as the realization slowly and painfully set in.
"Did you call me?" she asked, pressing the phone to her ear.
"WhatâNo, you were the one who called me!"
"That must've been some kind of mistake," Minju scoffed. "I didn't call you."
"Well that's weird, I specifically remember seeing your contact calling my phone."
"Then it was an accident, that's all." She looked at her screen, "I'll hang up now, bye."
"Minjuâwait!"
"...What." Her thumb hovered over the screen.
"What were you doing just now?" you asked quickly, words almost tumbling out of you.
Minju caught up half a second too late.
"Why are you asking?"
"I don't know, you seemed a little spooked when I picked up the call so I was wondering."
"It's nothing, I've already dealt with it. Is that all? Goodnight."
"Waitâwait! Maybe we could...talk for a bit." your voice trailed off on the line.
Minju's entire body went still.
The kitchen suddenly felt far too quiet.
The refrigerator hummed softly somewhere behind her. The clock seemingly ticked on louder than it was before. And through the phone pressed against her ear, your voice waited carefully on the other side with one foot tapping against your floor.
Talk?
For a bit?
Her first instinct immediately set in and almost acted on its own.
No.
Absolutely not.
Because talking to you for "a bit" somehow always became twenty minutes of bickering, accidentally saying something she shouldn't have, laughing at things she pretended weren't funny, and hanging up feeling strangely lighter afterward.
Yet.
"What do you wanna talk about then?" Minju leaned one shoulder against the kitchen counter, narrowing her eyes at absolutely nothing.
"Prom's soon, maybe that."
Minju immediately regretted asking.
Because now the topic somehow materialized itself in front of her again.
Prom.
She was once again reminded of that stupid dance occupying half the school's collective brain cells. The same event everyone kept talking about like it was some life-changing cinematic experience instead of awkward teenagers renting fancy clothes to stand around under dim lighting and pretend they knew how to dance.
"That sounds terrible already," she muttered.
You laughed quietly through the phone. "You haven't even heard what I was gonna say."
"I heard enough."
She wandered slowly out of the kitchen and into the living room, phone tucked against her ear while her feet dragged lazily across the floor.
On your side of the call, you dropped onto the edge of your bed with the towel still hanging around your shoulders.
"So," you started carefully, "are you excited for it?"
"No."
"That answer came out way too fast."
She sank onto the couch eventually, curling one leg underneath herself.
"I just don't really get the hype," she continued. "Everyone's acting like it's some grand and magical ball. And everybody's going in their own carriages with big dresses and flashy suits."
"Were you just describing Cinderella?"
"Shut it."
You laughed again.
That stupid laugh.
Minju stared blankly at the ceiling while listening to it fade through the speaker.
A short silence settled between you afterward. It wasn't awkward, it was simply silence shared across the line.
It wasn't long before you broke it though.
"Do you already have someone you're going with?"
She heard the question a second too late and didn't know how to act.
"Why?" she asked carefully.
"I was just wondering. Because if you wereâ"
"No," she answered quickly, too fast to sound casual. "I'm not going with anyone."
From your side, your shoulders loosened from the tension forming in them before you even noticed.
"Really?"
Minju frowned immediately. "Why do you sound relieved?"
"I don't sound relieved."
"You absolutely do sound relieved."
"I do not."
"You do."
You let out an exasperated breath through the speaker. "Fine. Maybe a little."
Her stomach flipped so suddenly she nearly hated herself for it.
Minju pressed her lips together hard.
"But why were you asking?"
For once, you didn't dodge the question because across the city, sitting at the edge of your bed with damp hair and your heartbeat trying to punch through your ribs, you figured you had already come this far.
"Because I wanted to ask if maybe you'd go with me and maybe save me a dance?"
Everything inside Minju stopped.
Inside her chest was nothing for a moment, absolute silence for one terrifying second then it all came at once.
Heat rushed straight to her face so fast she physically covered her mouth with her hand despite the fact you couldn't even see her.
You continued before she could respond. Probably because you were panicking too now.
"Not like a huge thing or anything," you rambled quickly. "And I know you said you hate prom and dancing and basically joy itself but I just thought maybe since we'd probably end up talking to each other there anyway and we already know each other and you wouldn't have to deal with random people asking you and I just thought maybe it'd be easier if we went together and I'm talking too much now, aren't I?"
The silence that followed almost killed you before you faintly heard something from her.
A short breath, one where you weren't sure if she laughed, sighed or scoffed.
"Idiot..."
"Wâwhat?" you replied.
Minju slowly lowered her hand from her mouth though the heat in her face refused to disappear.
Her heart was beating so loudly now that she didn't know what to do with it.
How was she supposed to respond to that?
She pressed her lips together harder.
"Okay." she finally said.
"What was that? What did you just say?" you replied quickly, fumbling over your words.
"I said okay, I'll go with you. It's not like I have anybody else. Dancing on the other hand, I'll have to think about it."
"...Wait seriously?"
The sheer disbelief in your voice made Minju's eyes roll over themselves.
"No, I just said yes for fun," she replied, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. "Obviously seriously."
"I thought you were gonna reject me."
"I almost did."
"Thankfully you didn't change your mind."
A laugh escaped you then, like you were finally able to laugh without weights over your shoulders.
And annoyingly enough, hearing it did something strange to her heartbeat again.
Minju reached up and pressed the back of her hand against her cheek.
It was still warm.
"So this means you're my prom date now?" you asked carefully as if you still didn't fully believe it.
"Don't say it like that."
"Like what?"
"Like..." she faltered immediately. "Like that."
You grinned despite her not being able to see it. "You're blushing, aren't you?"
"I hate you."
"That means yes."
"It means shut up."
Your laughter crackled through the speaker again, turning the quiet apartment into something softer around the edges. The living room no longer felt so hollow now. The ticking clock faded behind the sound of your voice.
Minju stared at the dark ceiling above her.
"So," you started again after calming down, "does this mean I get to know what dress you picked?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because you'll see it at prom."
"Right, guess I'll just have to wait and see."
Minju hummed through the line.
You snorted quietly, changing the topic. "You know, I was actually trying to ask you earlier through text."
"Then you cowered away?"
"No, it's just that." you started, "I just thought that if you heard it come from me directly, you wouldn't think of it as me joking around."
Minju's expression softened before she could stop it
The teasing reply she already had prepared dissipated.
Because somehow, underneath all your awkward rambling and stumbling over words, she understood exactly what you meant.
If it came through text, she probably would have overanalyzed it.
If it came through text, she might have convinced herself you were joking.
Hearing your voice now in its slightly breathless and embarrassingly sincere way through the speaker, made it impossible to misunderstand.
"Well, are you?" she asked more as a rhetorical question than anything else.
"What? Noâof course not."
Minju let out a soft chuckle.
"I'm glad you called and asked though."
"Well, technically you called first."
"It was an accident."
"There are no such things as accidents onlyâ"
"I'm hanging up now."
"Okay, okay, fine." you replied with a groan. "So um...I guess I'll see you then?"
Minju tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she stared across the darkened living room.
"Yeah," she answered quietly. "I guess you will."
On your side, you leaned your head back against the wall behind your bed, staring blankly at the ceiling with the kind of stupid grin that would've absolutely gotten you ridiculed if Minju could see it right now.
"Cool," you replied, and somehow even that one word sounded too happy as you said it.
Minju rolled her eyes instinctively yet the corners of her mouth betrayed her again anyway.
"You sound ridiculous."
"You agreed to go to prom with me. I think I've earned sounding ridiculous."
"I could always back out."
"Yeah right."
A quiet scoff escaped her.
Her home felt less lonely with your voice lingering through the speaker, with the warmth still sitting stubbornly in her cheeks and with the realization that somewhere across the city, you were probably smiling like an idiot because of her.
Minju shifted on the couch, pulling her knees closer to herself.
"You better not step on my shoes during the dance," she mumbled.
Your laugh burst through the phone instantly. "So you are considering the dance."
"I said maybe."
"I'm counting that as a yes."
She hated how easily you answered that.
For a moment, neither of you spoke again.
Minju then glanced toward the clock and sighed through her nose.
"It's late."
"Yeah," you murmured. "It is. We should get some sleep"
Neither of you hung up immediately.
"Goodnight, Minju."
Her heartbeat stumbled again at the softness in your voice.
"Goodnight..." she pulled the phone away first.
The call ended and suddenly the house became quiet again.
Minju stared down at the dark screen in her hand for a long moment before slowly pushing herself off the couch and making her way back upstairs.
The hallway lights cast soft shadows across the walls as she walked, her phone still loosely held in her hand while her heartbeat stubbornly refused to settle down completely.
Back inside her room, the light escaped through the small gap she had left behind. On her table, the crocheted flowers remained beside her lamp beside the rest of her cluttered things exactly where she left them.
Minju glanced at them briefly before dropping onto the edge of her bed.
Prom still sounded exhausting.
The loud music.
The crowded gym.
The dancing.
She still thought most of it was overrated.
Yet for the first time since everyone couldn't stop talking about it, the thought of going didn't seem completely unbearable anymore.
Maybe there was finally a reason to look forward to it after all.
ââââą.・:・âą.:・â§.・â°.:・â§.・:・.・âąâââ
Out Of My League
Park Minju x Male Reader
Fluff
Minju wasnât the type to go outside and bask in the sunlight.
She wasnât the type to wander into unfamiliar streets just to see where they ended, or to sit in crowded malls where conversations mixed into the background.
She lived quietly and comfortably indoors, like a cat that had memorized every room in the house and decided that was enough for her to explore.
And thatâs where you come in.
Because somehow, somewhere between shared school lunches and conversations that stretched a little longer than they needed to, you became the one person who always pulled her out of that quiet safe space of hers.
If she had to describe what you were like, sheâd say that you were a storm that dragged her outside by force, well not literally but she still found herself standing in front of a crossing or anywhere else that wasnât her room.
âFollow me,â you said one afternoon, already stepping toward the edge of the sidewalk as the pedestrian light blinked its impatient countdown.
Minju stood a few steps back, arms crossed, watching the intersection.
âWhy are we even here?â she asked.
âYouâll see.â
âYou always say that.â
âAnd you always come anyway.â
She clicked her tongue, but she didnât deny it.
Cars slowed as the light turned red and the crossing light turned green. People began to cross in that synchronized shuffle of strangers who would never look at each other twice.
You glanced back at her.
She hadnât moved.
Minju looked back at you with the same uninterested look on her face whenever you asked her to come with you. She exhaled, tightening her arms across her chest before looking away.
âStop sulking.â
âIâm just standing here.â
You laughed under your breath, the sound nearly mixing into the traffic around you.
Minju only looked more irritated by it.
She hated that laugh because it always sounded like you found something quietly amusing about the world, like everything was lighter or more colorful when viewed through your eyes. It made it annoyingly difficult to stay annoyed at you for long.
Which was inconvenient, considering you seemed determined to test her patience at least three times a week.
The countdown at the crossing began flashing.
Without wanting to waste another second, you walked back to her.
Minju still looked elsewhere, one arm still crossed against her chest as the other swiped strands of her hair. She was distracted enough to not notice you reach out for her hand and pull it with you.
âWhaââ
The protest barely left her lips before you were already pulling her forward.
Minju stumbled once, caught completely off guard as her feet scrambled to match your pace.
âAre you insane?â she hissed.
âWe have six seconds.â
âThatâs not reassuring!â
âItâs plenty of time.â
âThat sounds like something people say right before disasters happen!â
You laughed, weaving through the last few people while keeping a firm hold on her hand.
Minju stared at the back of your head in complete disbelief.
This was exactly what she meant.
This ridiculous impulsiveness that always bulldozed through her carefully planned quiet days.
One moment sheâd be peacefully existing in her room.
The next she was being dragged across a busy intersection by someone who treated life like it was an empty carnival with attractions and rides that they had to try out without skipping a single one.
You walked further down the sidewalk, still pulling Minju along behind you. She hadn't said anything since then, only looking at the back of your head and then lowering down to your hands that still held each other, fingers loosely connected.
Soon, the park came into view.
Minju slowed first, not enough to stop you but enough to pull your arm.
You looked back.
She was staring at the park gates with squinted eyes, suspicion already growing within them.
âNo.â
âNo, what?â you replied.
âAnywhere but the park.â
You frowned. âWhat did the park ever do to you?â
Minju stared at the gates like they were her worst memory.
âItâs loud.â
âItâs a park.â
âThere are children.â
âYeah, anybody could go there.â
âThere are also couples.â
You blinked once.
ââŚAnd?â
âTheyâre disgusting.â
You let out a laugh so sudden you nearly had to stop walking.
âThen ignore them, we aren't here to look at people anyway.âÂ
Minju groaned behind you as the both of you walked through the gates. She looked forward and spotted the colorful drapes of tents in the distance.
Rows of tents stretched across the open field, each draped in bright fabrics that fluttered lazily in the wind. It looked like someone had spilled a box of paint across the park and decided to leave it there. People wandered between booths carrying paper bags and drinks as music played faintly from somewhere deeper in the crowd.
âWhat is this?â Minju narrowed her eyes.
You turned around and began walking backward again, hands still linked.
âA market.â
âThat tells me nothing.â
âItâs a handmade market.â
âThat still tells me almost nothing.â
âLocal artists, food stalls, collectible shops, random things people make when they have too much free time and want to show it to everybody else.â
Minju rolled her eyes.
Great.
If she didn't make it clear enough that she didn't like going outside very much, she hated it more if she had to be in the middle of a crowd.
And now you had the brightest idea of dragging her to the market.
Minju stopped walking altogether.
Your arm jerked back with hers.
You turned, nearly stumbling from the sudden resistance.
She stood there with a flat expression.
âNo.â
You blinked. âWeâre doing this again?â
âYes.â
âWeâre already inside.â
âThat sounds like your problem.â
You stared at her.
Around you, the market continued on without concern. Someone nearby was loudly advertising handmade keychains. A child ran past holding cotton candy the size of their head. The wind carried the smell of different food across the park
And Minju looked like sheâd rather stay in bed.
âThere are too many people,â she muttered.
You glanced around.
It was crowded but not overwhelmingly so, yet enough to make her shoulders tense and her brows pinch together in that familiar way youâd started recognizing.
The playful grin on your face softened.
âYou okay?â
Minju hated how quickly that deflated her irritation.
âI'm fine,â she replied but you didn't buy it.
âWe don't have to go inside, the stalls out here are fine too.â
Minju narrowed her eyes.
âThat was your grand plan?â
You blinked. âWhat?â
âYou dragged me across the city like you were helping someone on the runâŚjust to stand outside a market?â
You gestured vaguely toward the nearest row of stalls. âNot really, but I still wanted to check the stalls out here.âÂ
âThatâs somehow even dumber.â
You laughed again, it slipped through the noise of the crowd and found her anyway, annoyingly soft and familiar.
Minju hated how her shoulders loosened at the sound before she could stop them.
The stalls near the edge of the park were quieter.
Far fewer people wandered through this section, most of them drifting deeper into the louder center where the larger stalls and live music were.
Here, the booths were smaller, one sold handmade soaps shaped like fruit, a quiet elderly man painted watercolor paintings at another stall, barely looking up as customers passed, and all kinds of snacks and drinks one could need on a hot summer afternoon like today.
Minju glanced around.
âSee anything you like?â you asked from her side.
âNo, absolutely nothing.â she replied quickly.
âHow about those?â you pointed to a stall.
Minju looked over and spotted a stall selling fluffy hats that were like the ears of animals.Â
She stared at the display then slowly turned to you.
âNo.â
You looked offended. âYou havenât even tried one on.â
âI donât need to try one on to know the answer is no.â
âThat pink bunny one is practically begging for a chance.â
âIt can beg elsewhere.â
You chuckled as you walked over and picked up one that had the design of floppy dog ears. Placing it over your head, you reached for the bunny ears afterwards.
Minju took one immediate step back.
âDonât.â
You looked at her like you were being deeply misunderstood.
âYou donât even know what I was going to do.â
âYeah, but I know what you want to do.â
âCâmon, just try it! If you do, I won't have to force you to do anything else. We can even find a place to sit down.âÂ
Minju looked at you then to the plush hat then back at you as the expression written across your face didn't change.
A soft sigh left her lips before she took it from your hand, fingers brushing over hers with the lightest contact.
She looked to the ground as she put it on. Her head began to heat up from the material, though that didn't really explain how it spread across the rest of her face.
âSee, no harm done.âÂ
Minju didnât answer immediately.
That was usually your first warning sign.
Instead, she adjusted the bunny hat slightly, as if it might somehow become less humiliating if positioned at the correct angle of denial.
âI look ridiculous,â she muttered.
âThatâs right.â You leaned in then nodded with far too much enthusiasm.
Her eyes narrowed instantly.
âIâm taking it off.â
âWaitâwaitâno,â you said quickly, hands up in surrender. âI meant it in a good way.â
âThere is no good way to look ridiculous.âÂ
âThatâs not true. There are charming forms of ridiculous. And right now, you are one of them. You look cute.âÂ
Minju froze for a second. Her brain, for once, failed to provide its usual sharp rebuttal and left her with silence.
âDonât say that,â she muttered finally, a little too softly. âEspecially when I look like an idiot.â
âYeah? Then what does that make me?â you asked, swinging one of the ears to the back of your head.
âAn even bigger one.â
You tried holding back a laugh until it broke through your smile. It didnât sound like a tease but more like you just accepted the fact that you were being a harmless nuisance.
âIâll take that,â you said easily, adjusting the floppy dog ears on your head like it was a crown you fully deserved.
Minju clicked her tongue again, but it didnât have its usual snarky tone. She turned slightly away, as if distance could fix the fact that her face still felt warm.
âWe should sit,â she muttered.
You brightened immediately.
âSure thing, I saw a couple of benches by the pond.â
Minju didnât reply with her words, she simply tugged at the hem of her sleeve again, then started walking without looking at you.Â
âHey, we havenât paid for those yetââ you raised your hand to get her attention but she simply kept walking.
You looked back at the stall and now noticed the person inside who seemed to have watched the whole thing play out.
The both of you shared an awkward laugh before you pulled out your wallet.
Minju found herself sitting on a bench under the shade of a tree that loomed over her.
The park continued to live on around her and so did the pond that rippled in small, patient waves that folded into each other. Sunlight scattered across the surface in broken pieces, drifting whenever the wind decided to blow.
She sat with her legs crossed as the bunny still sat stiffly on her head. She adjusted them once more, pushing one of the ears back into place.
Beside her, you dropped onto the bench like it belonged to you. The dog ears you had claimed earlier tilted slightly when you leaned back, catching the light in a way that made them look far too natural on you.
Mi noticed and she immediately regretted it.
âYou look ridiculous,â she said again, but quieter now.
âHey, Iâm not the only one whoâs wearing an animal hat.âÂ
Minju scoffed and she almost took the bunny ears off her but her arm went back to her side.
âYouâre worse,â she muttered instead.
You placed a hand dramatically over your chest like she had deeply wounded your pride.
âWorse?â you repeated. âI let you insult me for free and this is what I get?â
âYouâre lucky Iâm still sitting here.â
âWant me to say thanks for that?â
âNo, itâs a threat that if you say anything more, I will leave.â
You stared at her for a moment before slowly raising both hands in surrender.
âUnderstood. I value my life.â
âYou should.â
A laugh escaped you anyway, quieter this time, careful enough not to push her too far.
Minju leaned back against the bench and looked toward the pond again, pretending the conversation was over.
Quack! Quack!
The both of you looked down to the edge of the pond in front of you where a duck sat still on the water beyond the railing.
The duck stared at both of you.
âYou hungry, little guy?â you asked.
The duck didn't answer, it simply stared back.
âMaybe we should give it something,â she muttered.
âThatâs fair,â you said easily, leaning forward slightly, elbows on your knees before standing up. âIâve been eyeing all of the snack stalls back there, I'll go get something it could eat, hopefully.â
Minju turned her head so fast the bunny ear flopped dramatically to the back of her head.
âAnd you're not getting me anything?â She didn't expect for her words to sound the way they did, like she assumed that you were thinking of her too.
You blinked.
Then your mouth slowly curved upward in a grin so unbearably smug that Minju immediately regretted being alive.
âFine, you want anything?â you asked.
Anywhere but directly at the fact that she had just exposed herself in the most humiliating way possible.
Minju stared at your stupid grin then looked anywhere else but directly at the fact that she had just exposed herself in the most humiliating way possible.
âI changed my mind. Go back to the market and hope you never return.â Her voice came out much flatter than she felt.
You laughed immediately.
âTempting, but I think youâd miss me.â
âI absolutely would not.â
âYeah, yeah, I doubt it.â you answered back, already waving her off as you began walking away.
Her eyes narrowed as you disappeared further into the crowd, one hand lazily raised above your head in a wave like you had won something.
Which, annoyingly enough, you probably thought you did.
âYouâre so annoying,â she muttered under her breath.
Quack!
She looked down.
The duck had drifted closer to the edge of the pond again, staring up at her with the same blank expression it had maintained this entire interaction.
Minju crossed her arms.
âDonât start.â
Quack!
âI was not going to miss him.â
The duck blinked.
âFine, maybe I doâŚa little. So what?âÂ
The duck remained completely still, as if absorbing her words with far too much brain power for an animal floating in pond water.
Minju narrowed her eyes on it.
âYou look way too smug for something I can just pick up and throw.â
The duck swatted its wings.Â
She let out a quiet sigh and leaned back against the bench, her gaze drifting toward the market where you had disappeared. She could still spot flashes of colorful tents through passing groups of people, along with the occasional glimpse of someone carrying overpriced drinks or bags full of things they absolutely did not need.Â
You had only been gone for a few minutes and yet the space beside her felt noticeably emptier.
It irritated her enough that she pulled one of the bunny ears down over her face for a moment before letting it snap back into place.
âThis is exactly why I donât like getting used to people,â she muttered quietly.
The duck offered no sympathy, only another quack.
âItâs bad enough to like someone but itâs far worse if you have to push yourself every time just to see them.â Minju placed her head in her hands in quiet defeat.
Another quack came from her feathery friend as it swam around in the water.
âGlad to see the both of you became friends while I was away.â
Minjuâs head snapped up so fast the bunny hat nearly flew off her head.
You were standing a few steps away with a paper bag in one hand and drinks in the other, looking entirely too pleased with yourself.
The duck immediately ditched being Minjuâs moral listener and swam toward your side from beyond the railing.
You set the bag of food and drinks down on the bench, the paper crinkling softly as it settled between you. From it, you took out a blue lemonade and a sandwich for yourself, then carefully pulled out the other set meant for her. While your drink swirled around the straw in its cool color, the drink you placed on her side was pink, its color a quiet contrast to yours.
âHow much do I owe you?â Minju asked, picking up the drink slowly.
You didnât answer immediately.
Instead, you paused before you fully sat down, like you had to think over her question a couple times over.
âYou donât owe me anything.â you said.
Minju blinked once.
âWhat?â she replied.
âI bought it for both of us, donât worry.â
Minju wanted to argue about paying for herself but wisely chose not to once she saw the blank look on your face.
You sat down beside her again, unwrapping your sandwich like the conversation had already moved on.
She stared at the drink in her hand for a moment longer before poking the straw through the lid with far more force than necessary.
âYou still couldâve asked if I wanted to pay,â she muttered.
You glanced at her. âIs buying my friend food a crime now?â
Minju paused at the word and had to shake her head out of it.
âNo, but Iâm more than capable of paying for myself. I donât need someone else doing things for me. Aish, now I feel like I owe you something.â she answered, eyes focusing back at the pond right in front of her.
âRelax, I did it because I wanted to. Thereâs no harm in that, plus, you donât owe me anything and thatâs final.â
Minju scoffed and rolled her eyes where you couldnât see.
For a while, the moment played out with no words in between, only the sounds of foil unwrapping and the sounds of life throughout the rest of the park.
You stole a glance over to look at Minju.Â
She wasnât doing much besides eating and staring off into the distance. The hat stayed perfectly still on her head and so did the ears. Her hair blew with the short gust of wind that flew by also carrying the smell of something sweet and flowery.
Warmth flushed across your face as you realized you were staring for far longer to be considered just a glance.
Your eyes drifted back down to the paper bag as something else crinkled inside as you shifted on your seat.
âI think I understand why you hate couples,â you said in between bites, looking at the people walking in pairs with smiles that seemed way too wide to be genuine.
Minju nearly choked on her drink. She pulled the cup away from her lips and turned toward you with narrowed eyes.
âWhat do you mean?â
You looked entirely too calm for someone who had just said something so absurd.
âYou called them disgusting, If I can remember correctly.â
âYeah, thatâs because they are.âÂ
âIs it because they hold hands and stay too close or they just seem way too happy to exist?â you asked.
âBoth. I hate it when they lean into each other or talk too loud in places they shouldnât. Donât even get me started if they have the nerve to kiss each other in public.â Minju answered, a hard scoff following her words.
âBut doesnât it seem a little nice?â
Minju paused for a breath and looked at you with some suspicion that led her to think you had something hidden in between your words.
âWhat, you suddenly want to show the rest of the world who you share saliva with?â
You laughed and shook your head at her words and the disgust in her voice.Â
âNo, I meant the part where they hold hands, lean in and stay close, share umbrellas or one pair of earphones.â
Minju stared at you like you had just voluntarily admitted to enjoying public humiliation.
âYou make it sound like itâs just straight from a romcom.â
You shrugged, peeling back another corner of your sandwich wrapper. âIâm just saying it doesnât look that bad.â
âIt looks unbearable,â she replied immediately. âHalf of them act like no one else exists.â
âMaybe thatâs the point.â
Her brows pulled together. âWhat does that even mean?â
You leaned back against the bench and looked toward the pond, your voice quieter now, lacking its usual teasing edge.
âI think itâs nice when someone becomes your first thought.â
Minju went still.
You continued before she could interrupt, your eyes following a pair walking along the path ahead of you. The girl had fallen slightly behind while fixing her shoe, and without even turning around, the guy slowed his pace to match hers like it was natural.
âLike when something funny happens and theyâre the first person you want to tell. Or when you see something good and immediately think theyâd like it too. Or when youâre in a crowd and your hand reaches for theirs before you even realize youâre doing it or when you somehow see them through it.âÂ
Minju didnât answer right away.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the cup, the small beads of condensation dampening her palm.
âYou like someone, donât you?â Minju asked, more as a tease than a question she wanted answers too, though she wouldnât mind it.
(She absolutely would mind it.)
âIs that all you got from that?â you glanced at her.
âYeah, I mean I wouldnât make love sound all that dreamy if I didnât have someone in mind.â
âItâs nothing much, I just like the idea of love.â you huffed out a chuckle.
Minju stared at you for a moment longer than necessary.
For some reason, that answer annoyed her far more than if you had simply admitted there was someone else.
âOf course you do,â she muttered before taking a long sip of her drink.
You blinked at her reaction. âWhy do you sound offended?â
âIâm not offended.â
âYou sound offended.â
âThis is how I normally sound.â
Another laugh escaped you before you shook your head. âWhatâs wrong with liking the idea of love?â
âEverything.â Minju let out a dry laugh of her own and leaned back against the bench.
âThatâs a little dramatic, donât you think?â
âNo, itâs simply realistic.â
You turned slightly toward her, curiosity replacing amusement. âGo on, explain it then.â
Minju stared at the pond for a while, watching the duck drift in lazy circles like it had nowhere important to be.
âPeople over-romanticize it too much,â she said after a moment. âThey make it sound life-changing and beautiful and worth every terrible decision they make.â
âAnd maybe it is.â
âAnd most of the time people become stupid.â she continued.
You nodded along as if you agreed.
âItâs already tiring enough to talk to people, I wouldnât imagine myself having to talk to one all my life.â she said in genuine disdain despite some parts of her contradicting her words.
âBut you gotta admit, love might not be half bad. Or some parts of it, at least.â you nudged her shoulder a fist softly.
Minju looked at you, grazing over the smile she had slowly come to memorize.
âMaybe.â she answered, biting down on her straw as she took another sip.
You let out a breath then as if you caught her red-handed.
âThat means you have someone in mind too.â
Minju nearly inhaled her drink. She coughed once, glaring at you like you had personally orchestrated her own actions.
âWhat?â she said a little too quickly.
You pointed at her with your sandwich like a detective who thought they surely had the truth with little evidence.
âYou didnât say no or brush it off so that means you actually thought about it and said maybe. Not no, not never in a million years, or even shut up. You said maybe.âÂ
Minju watched you fully turn towards her fast enough to send the dog ears to one side of your head.
She scoffed, âFine, maybe I did. Youâre the one who started all of this lovey-dovey talk so of course I thought about it!â
âReally now? Tell me, whoâs the lucky guy?â
Minjuâs eye twitched.
The absolute audacity you had.
You sat there looking far too entertained with yourself, sandwich still in hand.
She wanted to throw your drink into the pond and maybe she wanted to throw you into the pond after it.
Instead, she chose not to, which may or may not be regretted later on.
âWhy would I tell you?â
âBecause Iâm interested now.âÂ
âYou should put your interest in other things.âÂ
âLike what?â
âJust shut up already.â Minju let out a sharp breath through her nose and looked away from you.Â
The pond suddenly became the most fascinating thing she had ever seen in her life.
The duck floated nearby, circling lazily like it knew what kind of show it watched beyond the railing.
You leaned closer, resting your elbow against the back of the bench as if you had all day to wait her out.
âThatâs not an answer.â
âItâs the only one youâre getting.â
âYou already admitted someone exists, you canât deny it now.â
âI admitted no such thing.â Minjuâs grip tightened around her drink.
âYou quite literally just did.â
âI said maybe.â
âWhich just means there could be no one but that also means thereâs someone.â
Minju slowly turned toward you with a blank, emotionless look in her eyes before standing up from the bench.
âIâm going home.â
âHeyâheyâwait!â you nearly dropped the rest of your sandwich as you scrambled up after her. âMinju, come on, Iâm kidding.â
âNo, youâre being nosy.â
âI can be both.â
She began walking down the path with quick steps, bunny ears bouncing with each irritated stride.
You stared for half a second before hurrying after her.
âIs it at least someone I know?â you asked with a heavy breath, after you caught up with her.
âHmph!â Minju let out a sound that could only be described as pure, concentrated frustration before continuing forward.Â
You matched her pace easily despite the dramatic huff she threw your way.
âThatâs not a no,â you said far too brightly.
Minju stopped so abruptly that a couple walking behind her had to awkwardly sidestep around the two of you.
âYou are unbelievably irritating.â
âAnd yet you keep hanging out with me.â
âI shouldâve declined the first time you asked me to go with you.â
âOuch.â you placed a hand over your heart again like she had delivered a fatal blow.
She resumed walking and you continued on following.
The afternoon crowd had thickened since earlier. Children ran past with balloons nearly larger than their heads, vendors shouted over one another, and somewhere nearby someone was aggressively losing at a carnival game.
Minju kept her eyes forward while you kept yours on her.
You tried to ask her about this mystery person, even in the tiniest details and each time you asked, you were only met with nothing but the sounds of the park.
âFine, if youâre not going to answer, you could at least take this.â you said as you looked down in the paper bag in your hands.
Minju finally looked back at you, arms still crossed against her chest and watched as you pulled something out.
She slowed to a stop, simply staring at the bouquet now in your hands.
Three small crocheted daisies sat wrapped in pale paper, their stitched petals slightly uneven in a way that made them feel more real and genuine than perfect flowers ever could. A yellow ribbon was tied around the stems to top it off.
âWhat is that?â Her brows furrowed together.
âOh. Right.â You looked down at it like you had somehow forgotten you were holding it.
You scratched the back of your neck.Â
âI saw it while I was buying food.â
âAnd?â Minju narrowed her eyes.
âAnd I thought that they really worked hard on it so I got one,â you awkwardly lifted the bouquet toward her. âAnd maybe because I thought you would like them.â
Her brain forgot to process her thoughts right then and there.
âYou bought me flowers?â
âTheyâre not flowers.â
Minju stared at you in disbelief.
âOkay, they are technically flowers. But not actually the real thing.â you looked at the bouquet.
âThat does not make it better.â
âI thought it did.â
âIt absolutely does not, (YN).â
You lowered the bouquet slightly, suddenly looking less confident than you had been all day.
The change in your expression made something in her chest pinch unpleasantly.
You laughed once, âI just remembered you said real flowers die.â your gaze dropped to the bouquet. âSo I thought these would last longer.â
Who knew that a simple sentence could make her want to hide her face for all of eternity to cover the blush spreading across her face.
The worst part is that Minju remembered saying that.
It was weeks ago as they passed by a flower shop.
She had made an offhand comment about how spending money on something destined to wilt felt stupid.
You had remembered because of course you had remembered and somehow that felt far more genuine than grand confessions or dramatic speeches under fireworks.
It was just as is.
A stupid handmade bouquet.
A stupid boy in dog ears.
A stupidly thoughtful gesture she had absolutely had no snarky answer against.
âYouâŚâ she started before immediately losing her words.
âI mean, if you hate them, I can keep them.â you shifted awkwardly.
âDonât you dare.â Minjuâs head snapped up.
âSo you do want them.â Your eyebrows lifted.
âThatâs not what Iââ
You smiled at her before releasing out all of the awkwardness you felt in a hearty laugh.
Minju groaned and covered her face with one hand before swinging the other, taking the bouquet out of your hands.
She didnât say much afterwards, she just spun on her heel and continued on as if nothing happened in the middle of a parkâs trail.
You were left stunned like an idiot for a quick moment before realizing and catching up to her again.
Walking out of the parkâs gate you kept your silence while she did the same but when you stole glances at her, you couldâve sworn the tips of her ears were red as she tried picking at one of the crocheted petals.
You eventually walked with her to where the day ended whenever you had dragged her along, the bus stop.
The sky had begun changing its bright blues for warmer shades of orange and pink, clouds were still hanging around, ready to blend into the night sky.
Minju had sat down with the bouquet of crocheted daisies clutched in one hand while you leaned against one of the walls, waiting for the bus with her.
She kept glaring at you with the side of her eyes then back to the bouquet as if staring hard enough would make the entire situation feel any less embarrassing.
âSo,â you started carefully.
âShut it.â Minju immediately raised a finger at you without looking.
You blinked. âI didnât even say anything yet.â
âI know your tone.â
âMy tone?â
âItâs the same tone you use before you twist my words and start teasing me.â
A laugh escaped you before you looked down at the bouquet in her hand.
âFor the recordâŚâ you rubbed the back of your neck. âYou donât have to keep those if you really donât want them.â
âWho said I didnât want them?â Minjuâs head snapped toward you so fast it nearly gave her whiplash.
You looked at her as her eyes widened a fraction as realization punched her directly in the soul.
âNoâI meantââ
A grin spread across your face with the speed of a man who had just found free entertainment.
âYou like them.â
âI hate your face.â
âThatâs still not denying it.â
Minju looked ready to launch both herself and the bouquet into incoming traffic.
Instead, she hugged the flowers closer to her chest.
Your smile softened before you could stop it.
Before another tease slipped through your lips, you looked away and shrugged, looking at the traffic that came and went. You somehow started subconsciously counting the taxis that passed by when you turned to her voice again.
âYou really want to know about him?â
Your eyes followed her figure as she stood up from the plastic seat just as the bus pulled up to the stop.
The bus gave a soft hiss as its doors folded open, pushing out cool air into the warm evening.
Minju stepped forward first, bouquet of crocheted daisies held carefully against her chest like she was suddenly worried the wind might take them away. She paused at the first step, half-turned back toward you.
âAll you have to know,â she said, lifting the flowers just slightly, âis that heâs way out of my league.â
She didnât say it to bite back or to tease you, she sounded real and careful of her words as if they were meant to be taken more into thought.
Then she walked in.
The doors slid shut with a quiet thud. The bus soon moved forward, tires rolling into motion as the evening lights smeared across its windows.
Inside, Minju didnât look back again.
Outside, you stood there for a moment too long, sandwich and half-finished drink forgotten in your paper bag, watching the bus disappear into traffic until it was swallowed by the rest of the city while you were still standing there, staring at the street, as if it might explain what she had just told you.
ââââą.・:・âą.:・â§.・â°.:・â§.・:・.・âąâââ
I'm not a dere, a tsun tsundere
Beautiful Phantasma
Kim Minju x Male Reader ft. Yena, other idols
Length: 13.550 words
Tags/TW: angst and drama, edgy and unsettling, mentions and description of all the bad things, a cruel story in four acts, no smut, but mentions of sex, desire, depression and mostly suicide
Thanks for 9.090 followers!
(A/N: The worst way to return with sth unsexy that I had lying around. Make of it what you will - I had different plans for this, but I'm happy I got something done. This is fic no. 149. One more to go!)
âFinally!â
âLetâs get outta here.â
âIâm so hungry, God.â
âJake, where is myââ
âEveryone, settle down! The bell doesnât dismiss you, I do!â
A collective groan, some curses in the back of the class, someone drops his backpack. Oh, how cliche.
âLetâs just finish this final paragraph, okay?â
âFine. Iâll read it.â
âThen weâll have this shit over with.â
âNo cursing in my classroom!â
Snickers from the girls to your right, quick, mindless reading to your left, someone drops a pen. Didn't this happen yesterday?
âVery well done. Class is over, have a nice weekend.â
âBut Maâam, itâs only Thursday.â
âOh. My bad. Then weâll see each other tomorrow.â
Two dozens of bags get lifted from the ground, books and paper crammed into tight spaces, someone drops their smartphone. Yes, definitely deja vu.
âShit!â
âWell done, Yena. I bet itâs cracked now.â
The slow turn of a delicate hand. Hundreds of scratches make the glass look like a spiderâs uncarefully spread web. Someone cracks a laugh. Am I dreaming?
âI told you. Now, now, donât cry. Iâll get you some ice cream, hm~?
Yenaâs sobs and Chaewonâs coos can still be heard down the hallway. You shake your head in disbelief. Of course, this exact scenario didn't happen yesterday. It is as close to impossible as winning the yearly lottery daily, but your feeling of deja vu remains. The days blend into one another, nothing significantly changes.
The setting? The same. No one is going to paint over the old, dirty walls of this school to give them a new color, new life. They remain as a seemingly immovable constant, just like the yellow lights at the ceiling or the barely cleaned windows separating the outside from the classroom and the classroom from the floor. Maybe the weather changes, but at this point youâre even uncertain of that. Gray clouds lay on the world, an impenetrable layer that reeks of rain.
The time? The same. Your school's schedule is its most stable factor. The principal enforcing it is as certain as taxes and death. If too many teachers are missing to fill in the gaps, he himself will step in to ensure the absolute maximum of education, even if itâs 5pm. Part of this tyrannical precision is the teacherâs right to extend a lesson past the bellâs ring. It is utterly ineffective, as no one actually listens anymore, but it will never change.
The characters? The same. Not a day goes by where mostly bubbly Yena isnât whining about something, be it the grandest of issues or a lost hair. Her best friend Chaewon is always on her side. With her calm, kind words and envious patience she is the perfect Yin to Yenaâs Yang. Then there is Eunbi, the class representative, with amazing grades, amazing visuals and eyes colder than the arctis. Sakura is everyoneâs crush, a girl who adores video games, looks absolutely beautiful and is a social magnet. Sadly for all the boys, she only has eyes for girls.
You could go on and on about all the other colorful characters in your class, friends, enemies, classmates, but it all leads to the same hole. The hole of repetitiveness. Not only the lives around you seem to be in an endless loopâ you play along perfectly. Your thought processes all wander off into similar directions, your banter with Jimin and Chan is always about the same topics, hell, even your yawns during Mrs. Baeâs classes are perfectly timed. Day in day out, you always stay to your routine.
Isnât it time to break out? To stand up and instead of going home, go to a friend's house? Walk through the park for another hour? Run downtown to eat some fresh churros? Your desire to break out grows, but it cannot overcome your rationale telling you:
Why am I concerned about this? Everyday life looks similar at times. So what.
A shuffle. The sound of a chair scratching over the floor brings the battle ensuing in your mind to a screeching halt and you jump. Someone is still in the classroom with you. This is unusual. Usually, you are the last one to leave. You donât need to take a train or bus to get home, itâs just a fifteen minute walk, so unlike your classmates, you donât need to hurry to the awfully timed public transportation. Today, however, someone decided to break with the loop.
You turn your head to search for the culprit. In the last row, someone sleeps, their head on their crossed arms, chair pushed lightly back to make the position more comfortable. In your many years of school, you have seen a couple of students sleep like this, even during class. Mingi was one of them, but he transferred last year. Yoongi as well, but he got his act together and is almost on par with Eunbi in terms of grades.Â
You are sure itâs her when you see chestnut-colored hair dripping down on all sides of her head. Kim Minju, the quietest person in the class. Itâs been years since you heard her speak a word louder than a whisper. She is always reserved, unapproachable and frankly, you sometimes forget she is still in the same class as you. She is a fitting last remaining option for someone sleeping at their desk.
âHey,â you speak into the room, waiting for Minju to react. She does, by lifting her head up from the scratched surface of her table. Her eyes, slightly hidden by hair all over her face, dart around the room until they find you.
âHey,â she says in a sleepy voice. You canât help but smile. Minju looks somewhat adorable and helpless like this. Although most of her expression is behind curtains of brown locks, she looks like a lost child searching for her parents in a crowded theme park.Â
âAre you okay? Donât you want to go home?âÂ
âLater.â
âLater? But class is already over.â
âYouâre still here too.â
You chuckle a little. Her voice sounds like she is still in dreamland and her head is unable to be upright. She lays on her arms once more. She is odd and you canât help but be intrigued by it. Carefully, you stand up and take the seat next to her. Minju looks at you with surprise in her damp eyes. You wish you could read them better as she hasnât shown signs of being talkative.Â
âThis must not be comfortable. Iâd choose a bed over this any day.â
âItâs fine.â
You sigh as Minju turns her face away from you. This has been fun while it lasted, but she is frustrating to talk to. If sheâd resent you, she would have already told you to piss off, but with this not being the case you feel like youâre just annoying her.Â
âYour choice. Iâll go now though.â
âOkay.â
âSee you tomorrow!â
No further words from her. Minju is clearly not mentally in this place. Is this the fate of those who only dream and donât listen in class, you ask yourself while stepping out of the room. If so, she needs to be pulled out of it quickly. Somehow.
#
Today is not going to be the same. This sentiment has been stuck in your mind ever since you woke up. However, you havenât really acted like it. Your alarm went off the same minute it always does, you listen to the same three songs while chewing on your favorite cereal and watching the same show. Teeth brushing and time to sprint to school have remained at their bare minimum, hell, the list could go on and on. Your sentiment has just been a faint thought. Until you step into the classroom.
âAnd then, and then he didnât respond.â
âAw, I think it will be fine. You wrote him so late, he probably just fell asleep.â
âEveryone, please stay calm! The teacher is coming.â
Yena is whining about something, some boy from the grade above or below. Again. Chaewon is comforting her with the patience of all the angels in all the heavens. Again. Eunbi is urging everyone to sit down with pronounced gestures and a loud voice. Again. Itâs like youâve heard these exact sentences before. This is beyond absurd and you have to do something. You will do something.Â
Before Mrs. Kang starts the lesson, you take a longer route to your desk. With full intention, you pass by Minjuâs desk and knock on it twice. Like yesterday, her messy head lifts from her arms and you try to find her eyes through the veil of her greasy hair.Â
Doing something absurd like this has left you without a plan, without any words to speak, so you just put on a dumb smile. Minju doesnât return it. She simply flops back onto her arms. Itâs like reality is forcing everyone into their positions and if you donât fight back, it might just get you as well. You sit down on your chair and look at the unamused girl as the first couple of lines are drawn onto the board.Â
The lesson comes and goes like a soft wind. As soon as Mrs. Kang wraps it up, you have already forgotten everything she said. Your mind is solely stuck on how to get this terrible loop of everyday life out of your system. For some reason, you feel that the answer is with Minju, this one girl you never had anything to do with. She looks like the epitome, the greatest victim of the problem. It's time you do something for real, with a proper plan.
âHey,â you approach her again, as the rest of your classmates fall into their usual, loud chaos.
âHey,â Minju responds. It scares you how she has the same tone as yesterday. Maybe she hasnât had enough sleep and rushes to school just for attendance. Her hair has also not been washed, itâs even dirtier and messier now. She kind of reminds you of a lone wolf, abandoned by everyone.Â
âUhm, I donât know how to say this and maybe Iâll sound stupid, butââ
You grab yourself a chair and sit down in front of Minjuâs table. Finally, she is bestowing you with a look over her folded arms.
ââI noticed, like, how do I put it, everything is so repetitive and bland, itâs really bugging me.â
âYou think so?â she whispers dryly.Â
âOf course! Everyone is saying the same stuff, does the same stuff, likeâjust look at Yena! She is always whining. And Jimin is always teasing Jun. And youâre always sleeping. Iâm sorry, itâs just bothering me.â
You end your small tantrum with a sigh and hope that none of the mentioned took notice of it. It felt good letting off this steam, you were really pent up until now. However, you doubt that it was the right way to start a conversation with someone who is basically a stranger.Â
To your surprise, Minju starts to sit upright and plug some of her long strands behind her cute ear. Her eyes scrutinize you while her face remains blank, unamused. Then she bluntly speaks, almost at a normal volume:
âUh-huh, and why are you telling me this?â
âBecause I want to do something I have surely never done. Something that will end this vicious circle at least for a day, maybe two.â
âYou can do that on your own. Why do you need me for that?â
âW-well, I think maybe it could be something interesting for you too.â
Minju still doesnât look convinced. Who could blame her? The way you come out of nowhere and act like a slightly crazy person wouldn't convince most people to take action. In panic you stare at the ground to your left, to your right, trying to find some words to explain yourself, beforeâ
âHmph, you are weird. Would it be enough if we met on the weekend?â
You look at Minju in surprise. Did she just suggest that? The whisper, the calm, dry voice with not too much enthusiasm couldnât be anyone else.
âI think we never saw each other on a non-school day, so why donât we just meet at the gate?â
âI knew you would understand me!â you shout triumphantly and almost jump from your chair, âWe can meet at the gate and see where the day leads us. You okay with that, Minju-ah?â
Minju nods slowly and a faint smile appears on her adorable cheeks. You find it amazing how she still looks so pretty, even with her lack of make-up and wild hair. She could look superbly stunning with just a bit more care put towards her face, hair and body. But you wonât judge her on that. Maybe she just had a bad day. Maybe she never cared about stuff like this in general.
âGreat, then weâll see each other the day after tomorrow?â
âOkay.â
#
Tap. Tap. Tap. The tip of your blue and gray shoes hit the paved ground in front of the closed gate. After all these years, itâs the first time you notice how smooth the black rocks beneath you are. All the footwear scratching over them for all those years polished them to the point where faint sunlight gets reflected.Â
Itâs been quite a while since you woke up this excited. Your alarm went off at nine and with an unbridled excitement and unwarranted, but great expectation, you filled your backpack. Water, snacks, spare clothes, small games, more snacksâitâs like you prepared for a children's birthday party, sleepover included.Â
And like a child you stormed out of the house, early enough to not annoy your parents and take a very different route. You wandered through small alleyes, the smell of rain still oozing from the gray asphalt and beige walls. Although you enjoyed it, you wished for the sun to come outârain, rain, go awayâyou are literally a child and for today, that is okay.
Your wish came true. The light gray of the clouds was no match for the sun and small patches of sky blue pop up with every minute you wait. Now, itâs only Minju who is missing. The catalyst for why you finally got over the hump and out of the lulling everyday life. Sheâll be here any minute. Sheâs never been late for school, something she obviously isnât very fond of, so she wonât be late for this either.Â
But why her? Why did it take her for you to do something like this? There is a weekend for your taking every five school days. You couldâve just ran out or called a friend and do anything but mold in your room for endless hours. It might be the thrill of something absurd, new, unnecessary but necessary. Your questions come to a halt when you hear footsteps.
You look up to see all the perfect variations of brown. Minju wears a wool dress with a stylish checkered pattern in various dirty colors, orange, green but mainly brown. Underneath the dress, a tight, cozy looking turtle neck wraps around her torso and arms in the color of chocolate chip cookies. Across her chest is the leather sling of her almost black handbag. Above all however, is the brown of her hair. Not greasy and unwashed as the days before, but smooth and combed, tugged behind her ear it hides her shoulders. Brunette excellence that delights your heart.
She stops before you. With an awkward sway, she avoids looking at you. The way her lips press together looks adorable, you canât help but smile and disrupt the silence.
âHello, Minju! So awesome that you could make it.â
âHe-hey,â she waves at you instead of keeping eye contact for long. This seems to not be her cup of tea, but you wonât let your mood get dampened. She will hopefully get into it.
âI had a lot of ideas of what we could do,â you begin and straighten your back. Even like this, you arenât that much taller than the girl wearing her, of course, brown shoes, âBut first, I wanted to know what you think. What are you feeling today?â
âWhat I feel?â
Her eyes force your attention on them. Now that you can look into them mostly undisrupted with better lighting than in the classroom, you see a certain dullness, listlessness, even lifelessness in them. It takes you out of your childish dreams, the naivete that builds up. You take a step closer towards her. She tenses up.
âI-I just mean, what you felt like doing today. If youâre not feeling well or anything, thatâs fine. A-are youââ
âNo, no, itâs okay.â
She laughs it off with a wave of her soft hands and takes a step back. You can feel that something is off. Maybe you got her on a bad day. Or maybe even in a bad time, judging from how she looked throughout the week. Itâs not the perfect day to make her jump over some mental barriers. Or maybe, this is the perfect day after all. The day to wake up, to get life back into your veins, to feel it again.Â
You smile at her and scratch the back of your head.
âOkay then. Do you have anything in mind? Your dress looks unfit for a round of rugby, so I guessâŚâ
âWait, what?â Minju furrows her eyebrows, but then falls into laughter when she sees your playful smirk, âOh, for a second I thought!â
You see her laughing face for just a split second before she hides it behind her hand. Itâs cute, heartwarming even and you instinctively join her. In this moment, where all tension is lost in a simple joke, you forget that this is the first time you heard Minju laugh. In your presence, sheâs never been this loud and bright before.Â
Itâs like the clouds open just a tad bit moreâthe same way your relationship might open up a bit more on this simple day.
âI canât believe you thought that, Minju-ah. How should I fit a rugby ball and a dozen other players in this backpack?â you playfully mock her and she gets shy, while still giggling.
âI dunno, Iâm sorry. That was just dumb.â
âNuh-uh, youâre fun. I might not have a ball inside here, but I have this.â
You open up one of the many zippers and pull out two candy bars. The see-through plastic holds sweet caramel and toffee wrapped in chocolate. Sweetness wrapped in brown goodnessâjust like Minju, but you wonât make that joke. This is not a date with flirts but a rebellion against dullness. You hand one of the bars to Minju. Her eyes light up.
âWhat? I love those! How did you know?â
âI guess Iâm good at guessing, I guess.â
âTs, you sound like a child,â Minju mockingly replies, but opens the plastic wrap with child-like anticipation and urgency. You chuckle and observe how this sleepy head became lifely with just some candy.Â
âIâm okay with being a child. We can go to the playground if you want.â
You take the first steps downtown and Minju follows you, her full mouth protesting your decision.Â
âNo, stop. I, yum, made up my mind.â
âYou always speak with your mouth full?â
âN-no. Shush, letâs go grab something. I want, hm, a smoothie. Or ice cream.â
You smile that she finally found something, but you canât stop teasing the cutie that finally caught up to you.
âAnd then we go to the playground?â
A hit on your shoulder.
âYah! Iâll make up my mind, pabo.â
#
âOh man, that was something,â you sigh, taking off the 3D-glasses. From smoothies and ice cream, you somehow got out of her that she wanted to go watch a 3D-movie at the other part of town. It still took more convincing from you until she told you which movie it was. Although itâs certainly not your type of film, you still went with her.Â
âIt was so good! When I thought I got all the clues, they still tricked me.âÂ
Minju has her fingers cutely formed into a fist as you too walk out of the theater and onto the street. Although itâs not yet completely dark, you feel the evening coming and this fun day ending. As Minju still goes on about how intriguing the case was and how she thought the gardener was the murderer, you tap her shoulder.
âI still donât get why this is a 3D-movie. Like, why? Why have these effects for a detective movie?â
âYouâre a pabo. Itâs to pick up on the clues better! Ts, I told you that.â
âWell, maybe Iâm just too dumb for these movies,â you rub the back of your neck and watch the annoyed, but finally fully alive Minju become flustered. She pouts and pulls at your arm.
âI-I didnât mean it like that. I hope you still liked it, Iâm sorry.â
âMinju-ah, Iâm playing around! Looks like youâre the pabo.â
It baffles you. How can this girl look even cuter, with this shocked, angry, playfully fun expression on her fairy-like features? You feel your heart filled with warmth. Your mind is freed at the sight of Minju and at the thought of how the two of you got out of this loop. Nothing is the same as before.Â
âItâs getting late,â you say and take a quick look at your phone to confirm the time, âShould I accompany you home? It might be dark before you get there.â
They fall. Minjuâs bright eyes sink. The glow in them gets tainted by the dullness from before; but also pain. Pain thatâs also in her weak smile that she canât keep upright for long. Minju frowns and looks to the side, away from you. Suddenly, itâs all reset. Back to the beginning. You canât let that happen.
âItâs of course fine if you want to go alone. O-or I could call your mum andâŚâ
Minju fidgets, her delicate hand tightly wrapped around the leather of her handbagâs sling. She stares onto the tip of her feet. She looks cold, lost, like a forgotten child in the midst of an endless crowd of people. Things turn dark, not only because the clouds once again hide the sun, but also because Minjuâs voice isnât filled with excitement, but downright mourning.
âMum, no. No, itâs okay. Thank you, but Iâll go home on my own.â
âAre you sure? Is there, is there some way I can help?â
âI thinkââ
Minju hesitates. Her fingers fiddle with her dress, then with each other, before she stuffs them into her pocket. She gives you an apologetic look, one that tries to convince you that there is nothing to hide and that things are just the way they are. Your heart tells you to not play along. There is something thatâs really hurting her. So bad that it turns her back to the Minju, sleeping through life and all it has to offer. You have to lift the veil, youâ
ââI should go on my own. Itâs not that far, nothing will happen, hm.â
âOkay, uhm, was nice though.â
Your tongue betrays you. This is not what you want. It might be a smooth way to get out of the awkwardness, but it doesnât get you closer to the problem. Something hurts her and you want to know it.Â
âYeah, it was. Guess Iâll see you in school.â
The last chance, but you wonât take it. No reason to stir up conflict. The day was good, it got you two closer and things inevitably changed. Why risk it?
âYeah. Have a great Sunday, Minju.â
âYou too. Bye.â
She gets a hand out and gives a small wave. A small wave, a small smile, but itâs all rushed and it's painful to look at. The beauty wrapped in all the chocolate colors turns around and quickly steps out of your reach. The reach of your hands, of your eyes, of your voice.Â
âBye.â
#
Sunday went by quickly as it always does and Monday greets you with the usual. Not the kind of usual you can always return to. The restaurant with your favorite vibe, the table in the hidden corner, the always comforting food. This 'usual' is what you're looking for, not the same old gray in the sky, same old cracks in the walls, same old chatter in the classroom. It's jarring.Â
It makes you appreciate your new friend more. Minju is not quite usual today. She doesnât look gloomy, her silky, clean hair is crested with a cute, pink barrette and she greets you with a smile and a wave. The usually dark bags below her eyes are partially hidden by a simple, yet effective touch of make-up. Minjuâs beauty shines through her imperfections and you find yourself slightly blushing at the sight.
âHey,â you say with a small smile and carefully place your elbows on her desk.
âHey,â Minju responds, backing off a tiny bit. She reaches for her notebook. Itâs blue, mostly tattered and the pages are empty. âOh no,â she mouths, eyes still drawn to her bag below.
âAre you alright? Need something?â
âI⌠I think I forgot my pencil case,â she whispers shyly and tries to hide her face.Â
âOh, I can give you one of mine.â
Hand her the pen and she bows thankfully. You both smile at each other a final time, before the teacher enters the room. You get ready to shuffle your chair back to your desk, but Minjuâs soft voice makes you freeze in place. Itâs like she opens the gate to new possibilities with just a couple of words.
âI hope, uhm, that you had a nice Sunday.â
âTh-thanks, Minju, I hope you did⌠too.â
#
Tuesday rolls around, and you couldnât care less about the mundane things. You are excited to go to school, to meet Minju. You are excited about the brewing suspicions of your friends, which takes them out of their usual character a bit and makes the bickering interesting. With all this excitement, you swing open the door to the classroom. Everything, everyone is in order. Their eyes are on you as the door crashes against the wall with a loud boom. Your eyes are on Minjuâs seat. Itâs empty.
âEy! Watch out!â Chaewon yells at you, as she tightly holds Yenaâs hands. The duck-like girl quivers in fear. You must have scared her quite a lot. Tears pool in her eyes and you give her an apologetic bow.
âIâm sorry you two, I should have been more careful. Do you by any chance know where Minju is?â
Both girls shake their heads and Chaewon continues to glare at you, like she wants to stab you with a poison-filled syringe. Not that you would care. Minju not being here is a far greater concern to your mood. You fear that the day might immediately fall into the same rhythm, so you hold onto the hope that she is just late and will walk through the door at any moment. Maybe she will have the same enthusiasm as you did.
But it doesnât happen. Not on Tuesday, not on Wednesday. The clouds do not part for two days. To say that it dampens your mood would be an understatement. Worry and annoyance have a hold on your thoughts, what teachers, parents, friends say is a nuisance and mostly forgotten. In some moments, it feels like a foul stench lingers around the campus. It gets even worse when, out of spite, you walk the same route you and Minju took a couple of days ago.Â
You get angry at every stop, but this anger is short-lived and when you stand in front of the cinema, it turns to sadness. The kind of sadness that twists your stomach and leaves you speechless at its intensity. If only you knew where Minju lives or what her phone number was. Those irrational worries that brew in your mind could just be gone. They range from her just being ill with a cold to something terrible has happened with her mother. You clearly remember how quickly all her joy and hype faded when you just mentioned the word âmumâ.Â
Shake your head and head home. Tomorrow, Minju might just be back and if not, youâll do everything in your power to confirm that she is alright. On Friday, you will ask her to meet again, and visit the park. You want to ask her a lot of questions and then, everything will solve itself.Â
#
You breathe a sigh of relief when Minju is in her seat early Thursday morning. Most of your classmates are probably still riding the bus or just waking up, depending on how they usually go about their day, so itâs just you two and Eunbi in the far corner. She studies geometry with her black headphones on. It basically feels like you're alone with Minju.Â
You cheerfully walk up to her, hand raised for a greeting. When you take a closer look at the girl however, you see her hair in a worse mess than ever before. Itâs like someone took a pair of scissors and cut strands off at random spots. The hazelnut chaos spreads over her cheeks and what might look like bad bangs partially covers her eyes. Dark, tiny, motionless, except there is something flickering in them with unbridled ferocity. Minjuâs pale skin is exceptionally pale against the large, black bags below her eyes. Her lips are dry and purple.
âMinju, are you alright?â you carefully ask and lower your hand. Your delighted mood is gone, dead, like the look on Minjuâs face and her sorry posture. She looks frozen to the chair, only her knees shake as if she were in the arctic desert.Â
âIâm cold,â she answers, her voice tiny, dry. She coffs and you almost leap to help her. But you are not there yet. There is still no proper friendship where you can just cross the boundary and touch her.Â
âCan I help you with that? I can turn up the heater⌠or give you my jacket.â
You take off your jacket and Minju remains motionless. Her hands are in her lap, one resting on the other, the nails painted awfully messy. Her gaze mostly stays on them.Â
âNo need, Iâm just cold.â
Minju looks like she is falling, continuously, into an endless void. Itâs darker than her eyes as they close and she starts to cry. However, there is no sob to hear or tears to catch. Minju just cries, in her own way and you feel powerless to step in. You canât catch her, something is physically pulling you back. Your heart may mourn at the sight, but what is there to do, to say, to make things better?
âC-can I ask what happened? You looked so lively a couple of days ago, and nowââ
Your heart spoke those words. They are like a scream to evoke some reaction out of her, but Minju doesnât stop the sorrow overtaking her more and more. You groan in sad frustration. This sight hurts you, you canât deal with it. You gently place your jacket on her desk and see her looking at it for a second.Â
âIâm sorry, I have no right to justââ You pause and ponder on a better choice of words, âIâll be at my seat. If you need anything, Iâm right there.â
Soon, all your other classmates stream into the room and take their usual positions. None of them seem to acknowledge Minju. For them, she is a figure in the background, one that might have changed a bit and even missed a couple of days, but they remain the same. Illness with two days absence plus a new âhaircutâ? Surely you wouldnât notice it on a random classmate.Â
At the start of the first lesson, your very picky and meticulous math teacher immediately notices your jacket on Minjuâs table. You know his eyes are locked in on it and he will call Minju out any second now. But then he hesitates, takes a closer look at the disheveled girl, and looks through the class register. His face contorts like he is in pain. This is very unlike him, and it wouldâve intrigued you more if it werenât for the gloomy feeling in your heart.
âOkay everyone, letâs start⌠start with, uhm. Chaewon, please tell the class what we did last lesson.â
The teacher continues to be out of sync with how he would normally act. At the end of the lesson, he calls Minju upfront. Now youâre the one frozen on the seat and watch helplessly as he calmly and concerningly speaks to her. You canât hear him this far back, and the question is, if Minju is able to pick up any of it. She looks down at the tip of her shoes and does not react at all.Â
This goes on for the entire day. You canât bear it anymore. With a final look over your shoulder, you dart out of the classroom quickly. The image in your brain is still the same: a helpless, frozen Minju, a withering girl with an unhearable cry. You notice the only difference a little bit too late, as it is barely noticeable.
Minjuâs tender cheeks have the wet trails of tears.
#
Once again, Minju is not at school. This occurrence is so unusual, everyone is acting out of character. Different rumors shoot through the classroom, and they all negate each other. No one has a clue of what is happening, but they all do have an opinion. Chaeyoung in the last row says that she is probably just late, while Chan strongly believes that she is still sick and that the math teacher told her to stay home for longer. Julia has the harshest opinion though.
âI bet she is fully embracing her lazy life. She will either fail or drop out soon. Thatâs how it goes.â
You cover your ears. Everyone spouts nonsense, although they didnât even talk to her yesterday. How can they be so sure? What do they know about her? Nothing. It frustrates you. The only people not involved in this except for you are Jimin, who stands by your side against these unnecessary allegations, and Chaewon and Yena. The two girls are entangled in a tight embrace and their heads are probably in a very different place right now.
Suddenly, the door bursts open. Your home room teacher and the principal walk in, both wearing a very serious expression on their faces. The rowdy class shuts up instantaneously. As if connected by one strand of nerves, everyoneâs backs straighten. A gut wrenching tension fills the room, as the home room teacher sighs deeply and leans onto the front desk.
âIâthis, this is hard. Excuse me, I need a second,â he says and stumbles a step forward. He is clearly not drunk, but his mind is dizzy with some heavy burden. The principal walks next to him and guides him towards a chair. Then he takes his glasses off, all fingers in a light tremble. You notice cold sweat all over his features. Itâs contagious and creeps up your back.
âClass, I need you to stay strong, okay?â he begins and rubs the inside of his eyes, âI hate that I have to say this, but I hate even more that it happened. This morning, your classmate Kim Minju wasââ
The principal pauses. Itâs not long enough to make a large difference in his sentence, but itâs so big, you can hear the rapid pace of your heartbeat. Itâs in your chest, your ear, your thumb. The burning red liquid rushes through your body. It meets the cold feeling of the goosebump and cold sweat on your skin, and this fusion almost makes you throw up. Your body gets torn to shreds, your mind is clouded. All in one pause that doesnât really exist.
ââfound dead in her home. She, she took her own life.â
In one moment, reality couldnât be more surreal yet realistic. The stark contrast between a fragile dream and concrete reality resonates with everyone. It cannot be true, but it is. This is where they start with denial and move all the steps up to acceptance. But how can you accept the unacceptable? The voices of your classmates are background noise, but they are also all that is left. Air, matter, gravity, light, life, they all do not exist. Only the sound of gasps, cries and everything in between.
Then there is you, in pale freefall, just like the snowflakes outside. No one said it was going to snow today, yet it does. No one said Minju would kill herself today, yet she did. No one said deal with it, yet you do. You deal with it. Life goes on.
You throw your head forward and vomit over your desk. A lie knocks on your brain, on your stomach, and you vomit again. Sadly, you donât have a reflex that will expel the disgusting shield of cold indifference out of your head. You know you will stop caring but you want to suffer. You want to hold on to Minju, the beautiful, quiet girl in class that was never supposed to walk down this dark aisle.Â
She never wanted to die. No one does.Â
But why?
Why?
Isnât life beautiful?
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
âYouâre such an asshole at times, I swear to God.â
Yena giggles as her head rests on your shoulder. Her bare hand rubs over your sweaty, equally bare pecs. These muscles were forged in the nearby gym and Yena has them all to herself. Itâs basically an equivalent exchange, because Yena is no slouch when it comes to taking care of her own body. Abs and a thin waist, they look the best when sheâs fully nude. And nude she surely is. Youâre each other's trophies.
âAm I?â you ask and blow out the smoke of your cigarette. You told her a story about something, something you donât care to remember. What or whoever it might have been about probably lost and you won. Such is life. You carefully put an arm around Yena and look at the orange-gray glow of your cigarette. Your girlfriend pouts.
âBabe, be real with me for a second.â
âIâm real every second, Yena, I donât ever lie.â
âBabe, Iâm serious here!â
Yena turns to you. Her stern eyes pin you to the backboard of the bed. This is no time to joke. You hastily put the glowing stick in the ashtray and the two used condoms out of harm's way. Yena then puts her arm on your nape and you have a hard time not staring at her heaving bosom but instead at the duck-like lips that pout cutely.
âDo you really love me?â she asks quietly.
âOh, I see how it is,â you respond with a relieved sigh. Poke both her cheeks as you usually do in these types of situations. Yenaâs tension comes out through her nose like the air of a balloon.Â
âYou are the hottest, prettiest, most desirable and most likable girl in the classâno, in the entire school.â
âBabe,â Yena blushes,âthose were too many. Youâre supposed to only list three things.â
âHuh? But what if I wanted to list more? Cuz itâs true.â
âForget it,â she waves off, still blushing. âAm I though? What about Yuri or Eunbi?â
âOkay, if you want me to list all of them,â you say, slightly annoyed, but you clear your throat regardless. âYuri is too crazy and not even close to your body, Eunbi is probably already married, also aloof, Sakura is gay, Hyewon is gayââ
âWait, Hyewon likes girls?âÂ
âDonât tell me you didnât notice. Seriously, the way she stares at Yuri all the time. Anyways, she is gay. Hitomi is not my type cause sheâs too small, Chaewon is your best friend and not as pretty as youââ
âBut she is so pretty!â
âJeez, Yena, weâll never finish it like this. Who did I forget?â
Both you and Yena ponder for a second, but if youâre quite honest, you do not want this argument to continue. You surely forgot a couple of girls in your class, but none of them can match Yena. She should know that, even if you donât throw the L-word around a lot. When you do it, itâs only towards her.
âThere is Minju,â Yena says in a moment of enlightenment.
âWho?â you respond. Donât bother with the jarring task to remember who this might be.
âThe quiet girl that sits in the middle of the classroom. With long, brown hair, itâs literally super long, I bet she never cuts and rarely washes it.â
âOh I see. Yeah, no. Who the fuck cares about Minju?â
You turn to the side to cough. Yenaâs face still doesnât look amused so you do the one thing that will surely shut her up. Cup her cheeks in your strong hand and kiss her on the ducky lips. Add a simple âI love youâ, and she relaxes. Her slender, naked body topples atop of yours. Finally, itâs time to go to sleep.
#
You wake up to the sound of a bell ringing. History class is over, and as per usual, you took a nice long nap at the end of it. Or throughout it. History has always been boring to you. Old guys did some things sometime in the past, wow, so impressive. It would only be a slight nuisance, but Yoongi and Eunbi always have to act smart about it. As if it actually mattered.Â
Can they touch the past, like you can touch Yenaâs midriff right now? Surely not. The young woman squeals at your touch and you quickly pull her onto your lap. Thank God she cares as little about any dress codes as you. Even on these mild spring days she already wears clothes exposing, no, downright flexing her abs to your classmates. They see and they drool, but the only one allowed to touch them is you.
âYou look sleepy, babe,â Yena says as she cups your face to inspect it.Â
âHistory, Yena, history,â you respond and force your tiny eyes wide open. Five more minutes until the next teacher arrives. Might as well enjoy the time by showing off your best trophy. Yena is better than the push-up and benchpress records, not only because she is great in bed, but also because she actually makes other people jealous.Â
Lift her onto your lap and give her a loud, proud and obvious hickey on her exposed neck. Yena holds onto your shoulders and holds her breath as if she would burst into moans and groans at any moment. After your deed is done, you triumphantly turn your head around. Scan the class, because someone is always looking. They canât help themselves. Poor bastards.
âLook at her,â Yena whispers. She must be doing the same thing.
âWho?â you respond, unable to find the girl Yena alluded to.
âMinju, the one with the long, messy hair, right in the middle.â
There she is, barely three meters away from you, yet in a different realm of existence. Brown eyes lock onto yours, though you canât make out what emotion they convey. Envy? Disgust? Pity? Well, the last two can easily be attributed to her. Minjuâs entire look is appalling. Greasy hair that sticks together in clumps, dirty clothes that probably smell rancid, and an expression that lacks any kind of care or passion. Truly pitiful.
âWhat are you looking at, huh?â you bark at Minju. The entire class goes silent. They donât have to hide their gazes anymore. They are only bystanders, witnesses to a tension that you know all too well. This is power, this is the way to victory. You will get your way.
Minju simply shakes her head. She rests her head on her crossed arms and goes back to her routine of dozing, as if nothing has happened. Her attitude of indifference is something you did not expect. You cannot allow such disrespectfulness.Â
âGet off,â you whisper to Yena, the anger in your voice not directed at her, but she still follows your command immediately. Slow strides bring you next to Minjuâs desk, who senses your presence. She turns her sleepy head towards you and looks up, the same look in her dark orbs, darker than even the greasiest parts of her hair. You clear your throat in annoyance.
âI asked you a question, didnât I?
âCare to answer it?â
Minju does not budge. She remains frozen below you, but itâs not in the way you want her to be frozen. She should be in fear, trembling, yet not moving at all, but your words, your rough tone does not seem to affect her.
âLemme ask you again: Why were you lookinâ at us?
âI donât care which way you swing, okay? Just letting you know there is nothing to get from us. Yena is mine, okay?
âOkay?â
Youâre basically shouting at this point. Minju finally moves to put her hands up as a shield. You did not intend to punch her, not even a fist of yours is ready to strike. Itâs a relief that your words can still evoke something from her. In a tiny voice that mirrors mice more than humans, Minju answers.
âO-okay. I didnât me-mean to. Sorry.â
âYou didnât mean to what?â you growl back, voice dripping dissatisfaction from her vague response.
âMa-make you envious.â
Pin the palm of her hand to the table below. Minju clearly lacks a quick reaction time. She only starts to gasp when the nail of your thumb drills into her sweaty hand, the pale skin growing paler, then white, and finally red. Minju hisses, but only you can hear the words.
âStop, please.â
âGet lost.â
You leave her be, but not before giving her an angry stare. Behind the helter-skelter of her curtain-like hair, her eyes receive your wrath like a well-deserved punch. Minju drops back into the back of her chair and holds her palm with her other palm. She is reeling like a beaten down boxer.Â
âIâd congratulate you,â Yena snarks when you return to her. âBut she is just a girl, so no respect.â
âI can never let my guard down. Not in front of anyone. Not when itâs about you,â you hum as the usual noise of chatter and laughs returns to the class. A surge of fire fills your chest, your lungs, like youâre a dragon breathing flames of destruction. The feeling of power, of being the strongest, the one who is not reckless enough to let his guard down around the seemingly weak.
If Minju really likes Yenaâ
âI cannot allow her to take your heart.â
âShut it babe, you know I only like guys,â Yena giggles and playfully pushes your shoulder. âWhat am I saying? I only like you.â
Then you kiss her. A bit too passionate for a setting like this, but not passionate enough to still your hunger for more. More of Yena, but also more of this control. No one else can have her, not even a piece of her.Â
#
Damp concrete, a preferable alternative to the deep mud and grass of the nearby forest. You jog with intensity and focus, conquering the streets of your neighborhood. Usually you'd be the king of the trees, sucking in the fresh forest air around you while on the way to the gym, but today you need to take a detour.Â
It's a welcome change if you're honest, especially because the lousy weather keeps prying eyes away. No one to interfere with you and your in-ears, the loud music blasting through the cords as you turn corner after corner until your heels come to a screeching halt on the fine gravel in Rainbow Street.Â
A girl sits on the sidewalk of this street with its very unfitting name. Worn down buildings in a tiny, ugly array of gray and brown shades sit right next to each other. They are a stain in this otherwise genuinely pretty part of town, Rainbow Street my ass, such a tiny street with all the human filth in one spotâand for some reason, this girl decided to sit here, her butt probably sore from the gravel poking it.
"Looks uncomfortable," you say down to the stranger and pull out one of your in-ears. She doesnât move her head out from in between her knees. Hell, in this posture she is certainly developing back problems. With wind blowing into the sleeves of her loose t-shirt, sheâll catch a cold first though.Â
âItâs fine,â she whispers in a low voice, still firmly staring at the ground as if your comment came with the wind and just passed by. Give her a weak, confused smile in pity. Usually, youâd not bat an eye at something like this. This girl probably has a house, where she doesnât have to freeze and she probably also has water and soap to clean her dirty hair, so why bother with pity?
âIs it though?â you say with raised eyebrows. âYou sit on the ground like a pile of misery and wait for the next wave of clouds for what? To let the rain wash your hair?â
You start to laugh at your own joke, which got the girl to finally move a muscle. Slowly she turns towards you and lifts her head even slower, like it hasnât been lifted in a hundred centuries. Your laughter fades as you stare into grim, miserable eyes which stare back in hurt, agony even.Â
âOh, itâs you,â you say and move to put your in-ears back in. âNo business with you.â
âYouâre so mean,â Minju states, her real emotions held behind the blunt statement. âWhy?â
âGet lost, Minju. Thatâs why.â
You jog off, further down the street to quickly reach the gym. Never in your life have you felt the rising feeling of compassion switch to coldheartedness so quickly. For a second you felt like a hero that could save this cute puppy, but in the next, you realized that it actually was the disgusting, wretched Minju who had to flaunt the fact that she clearly lost control over her life.
She doesnât even bother to take a shower or pretend to have any character. No wonder sheâll continue to be nothing but a loser in school.
#
During your workout, you thought more about the wrong classmate than about the right one. Minju, being the wrong one, has no reason occupying the free spaces in your head. Youâd much rather think about Yena, the right classmate, the one with incredible charm and wit. Yena is respected, Yena is envied, Yena is your girlfriend and absolutely amazing. Minju is none of that.
Enraged about Minjuâs sulking expression popping up in front of your inner eye again, you throw down the dumbbells. Someoneâs shouting in anger, others stare. Enough workout for today, you need a distraction. A distraction served by the right classmate.
âYena,â you blurt into your phoneâs speaker the second your girlfriend picks up. âIâll be at your place in 30 minutes, you down?â
âOh my~â she responds and you can already feel her turn in her bed in excitement. âI donât know, donât really like sweaty boys coming into my room~â
âSince when did I come into your room sweaty?âÂ
âIâll make sure youâre gonna be sweaty, babe~â Yena whispers, voice sultry, dripping of lust like the sweat from your forehead and drool from your lips.Â
#
âBabe, promise me something.â
Yena fondles your hair and looks at you with anticipation. Itâs something serious again.
âAnything for you, Yena.â
Wrap your arm around her hip and look at her, relaxed, sweaty, just like she predicted.
âDonât, like, donât get me wrong, it wasnât terrible, but please, babe, donât go too hard on her. Sheâs a girl, you know?â
âWhat are you talking about?â
âMinju and what happened in class.â
You sigh and look away in annoyance. Pull out a cigarette from the back on the nightstand. Your hand recklessly pushes off packets of pills and condoms. Why am I shaking?
âI donât know what you mean,â you say and search for a lighter. âShe was annoying, right? And disrespectful. And I know that there are girls that like girls and that there are girls that might go crazy, especially over you. I know youâre smart Yena, so you get me, right? Itâs not like I beat her up or something.â
You stop yourself from falling deeper into an incoherent mess of bad explanations, but Yena is already side-eyeing you. At least she has a flame for the stick between your lips.
âYeah, you did not beat her, but you went too far. Raising your hand and pressing down hers? Babe, that was not necessary.â
âI did it for you, baby.â
These words roll from your tongue so easily. Whatever counterpoints Yena brings up, you can easily melt her with them, reducing any valid criticism to nothing but dust.
âBut, but sheâs a girlââ
âAnd youâre the only girl for me,â you hum and blow out the smoke before turning towards her. Yena clings onto you like a koala, pouty lips, trembling eyes, and best of all: still fully naked. Press a kiss onto her lips and she gasps.
âBabe, Iââ
âI love you, Yena.â
âMe, me too.â
âLetâs forget other, stupid girls and classes. Youâre the hottest thing since the sun and I want you now, baby.â
Take another drag and Yena basically jumps onto you. At this point, the two of you wonât have enough sleep for the classes tomorrow. Doesnât really get better than an extended weekend, youâll take it with glee. Throw away the cigarette, Yena throws away the blanket. I love truancy on a Friday.
#
âYou should really take your girl now!â
Chaewonâs shout is tiny compared to the ear-drum shattering bass of the large speakers right above your head. You look at her, confused, and point at your ears. Chaewon rolls her eyes and points at Yena, who is stumbling through the crowd, a large stain on her pink tube top and a half-empty bottle of vodka in her hand.Â
âBetter. Get. Her. Out!â
Her message is clear, and it should shame you that she is more worried about your girlfriend than you are, but youâre too used to it. Yena is magnetic to parties and the parties are magnetic to her. They need each other, and usually, you enjoy yourself alongside her, but for some reason, she went over the top today. Shot after shot after shot, down her throat until her dance moves became laughable.Â
âFuck, fine!â
Growl in annoyance to make Chaewon back off to her clique and drinks while you grab the wrist of your completely dazed girlfriend and drag her through the crowd. Your eyes are always at her back, her hips, her bottom. If any filthy bastard tries to touch her, you will tear off his hand and shove it down his trachea to make him regret not respecting you enough.
Outside the old barn at some outskirt of the city, Yena suddenly starts to run, bottle still in her hand, her feet faster than usual. She is an excellent sprinter, but for some reason, the alcohol pushes her to a sudden sprint. You can barely keep pace but soon catch up to her when Yena leans to a wall andâ
âYena, what are you doiâhey, are you okââ
âviolently vomits out the hard liquor and her last meal, some noodles and meatballs. You bunch up her hair and turn your head away in disgust. Yena pushes out more, the unbearable sound not seeming to end in forever, until finally, she gasps for air.
âSorry, sorry, babe, are youââ
âJeez, Yena,â you groan and scrunch your nose, unable to look at the pile of half-digested food without feeling your stomach tighten painfully. âJust sit down over there, and try not toâyou know?â
Unsure if she understood any of your words, you guide her to a nearby bench in front of the highest point of the wall. Except for the occasional breeze rustling the trees and Yenaâs heavy breaths, itâs eerily quiet. You scan the area attentively, no possible attacker will go unnoticed, not even the figure on the far end of the wall. Why would someone sit there and stare skywards? There are barely any stars tonight.
The person has spotted you and jumps off the wall. Youâd prepare to fight for your honor and Yenaâs safety, but then realize that the person is pretty small and frail. You pull out your phone and point the flashlight at the approaching figure. Dressed in a thin black jacket, itâs none other than Minju. Again.
âDid not expect you here,â you snark at her and point your flashlight closer to her face. âWhy the fuck are you here?â
âHey! Is-isnât that Min-Min-ju?â Yena bursts out in laughter and rises from her bench. âBest friends, best friendos!â
She steps towards her classmate in deep drunken delirium and tries to hug her. Instead she loses her footing way earlier and is about to crash face first onto the ground. Youâre unable to react on time, but Minju is. She catches Yenaâs fall, knees painfully digging into the gravel as both her arms catch your girlfriendsâ fall. Slowly, the two of them descend onto the ground.
You stand there frozen, as Minju reaches into the pocket of her dirty jeans and pulls out a surprisingly fresh tissue. She carefully wipes Yena's dirty mouth, not shying away from the abhorrent smell and delusional smile. Minju holds her still like a baby, and Yena giggles stupidly.Â
âGet off of her!â you shout at the top of your lungs and push Minju off at her shoulders. She jumps and lets go of Yena, who almost meets the ground below if it werenât for your arms on her back. In your rage you pick your girlfriend up so she stands and sways again. Her good mood fades as she struggles to stand upright, even with your arm around her.
âWhat is your game, huh? Stop trying to get her, sheâs mine,â you snarl down at Minju, who sits on the ground, her legs shivering in this mild spring night. She should have worn more than a skirt if this is still too cold for her, but for some reason, she still has this unusual determination in her eyes.Â
âCan I have this?â Minju asks, oblivious to your rant, pointing at the vodka bottle still firmly in Yenaâs grip. Your girlfriend doesnât react to the question and instead rests her head on your chest. She sniffles and weeps, tears soaking into the fabric of your polo shirt. Enraged, you kick a bunch of gravel onto Minjuâshe should get fucking buried beneath it.
âFuck off, really. Are you really that desperate? Pathetic.â
âI-Iâm not, I just want to drink.
âWould you let her drink it? Yena is already looking bad.â
Furiously reach for the bottle. This fucking bitch. Throw it as hard as you can against the wall. It bursts into a million shards, the vodka running down the gray surface. Someone opens a window.
âHey! You fucking rouges! Stop this shit or Iâll call the police!â
Youâd love to curse back at them, but Yena pulls at the hem of your shirt. You look at her teary eyes and sigh. This has been a big enough mess, no need to push the limits. Stare down at Minju, who still looks at the spot the bottle hit, her eyes big yet blurry. She looks absolutely miserable.
âBack off,â you say to her. âDonât come close to her again or youâll regret it.â
#
Monday comes and goes, the same goes for Tuesday. You might sit in class, attend each of the lessons, but youâre not listening to a word the teachers say. Nothing special, if youâre being honest. Youâd usually guide your hand on Yenaâs thigh and watch her smirk knowingly as she tries to pay attention. This would go on until she pinches you. She tries to keep up with school a lot more than you do, it shows in her grades.
Today however, she is not in the mood at all. She swats you away from the start, her gaze focused, yet angry, as she tries to copy the teachersâ scrabble from the blackboard. You roll your eyes, this is not uncommon either, especially during that time of the month.Â
You roll tiny pellets of paper, your ammo for today. Simple, childish entertainment, sure, but you canât wait to see the reaction of todayâs target. Minju had it coming for a while now. Usually youâd send the paper flying over her head at one of the stupid classmates behind her; now she is in full focus.
At least she would be if it werenât for her absence. You only notice it when you turn around to ready your first throw. She is not there. You drop the pellets to the ground, the only form of disarmament that actually feels like it. How can she not be there? The teacher didnât even notice, no one noticedâand no one cares, except you.
But why do you care? Students are absent all the time and a loser like Minju has all the reasons not to go. For some reason, it still grinds your gears, brings them to a screeching halt and makes you form a fist. Feel your own fingernails dig into the palm of your hands; this is getting a bit out of control.
Suddenly, Yenaâs hand is on your thigh, a surprising twist to your usual shenanigans, however, she is a lot less gentle. You spin around, meet her gaze for a second before the angry hum of your teacher finally gets your attention. She must have been standing there for quite a while, trying so hard to do her job by teaching you something, something, something.
âOh, so you are still among us,â she notes, looking up and down at you above the rim of her large, blue glasses. âI bet you now know all the details of the French Revolution.â
âOf course,â you respond, voice and posture as nonchalant as ever.
âDo you mind explaining the root causes that led to the Battle of Verdun?â
âActually, I do mind.â Let your smirk fade for something more sympathetic. âExcuse me, Miss Kang, I just have a terrible headache right now. I think I should leave for today.â
#
âYou should pay more attention in class. You canât always skip the lessons you donât like.â
You put your phone on speaker and throw it on the desk. On the other side is Yena, thoroughly annoyed from the moment you started this call. If youâre honest, her annoyance is getting on your nerves as well.
âBut I donât care,â you groan into your room, loud enough for your girlfriend to hear. âItâs really hard to pay attention when itâs just boring shit, day in, day out.â
âI know itâs boring to you, but you know how grades work and that they donât give a fuck about you not giving a fuck. At least try?â Yena tries to bargain, but you shatter her away.
âWhy the fuck are we still talking about school? I should be by your side right now. Should I come over?â
You smirk in lust, one hand opening a drawer with countless condoms in it. Let a pack of it glide through your fingers before you hear a loud sigh coming from Yena.
âNot today, no. I-itâs better we not.â
âHuh? Why is that?â
âLook, itâsâŚâ
A long pause. You almost slam the drawer shut, instead catching yourself at the last moment and only closing it carefully in deep regret. There is a deeply rooted hate in you for evasive behavior like this; itâs terrible in movies or TV shows, but when it is happening in real life, it makes you snap quickly.
âYenaââ
âI-itâs because⌠you wouldnât⌠look, we canât do it, okay?â
âOh. It is that time of the month, huh?
âEw.â
Another pause, this time a lot more tense.
âWhat did you just say?â Yena growls furiously. âOh my God, youâre such an asshole!â
âYena, Iââ Your words face an impenetrable wall, not even reaching your girlfriendâs ear.
âNo! Shut up! You insensitive idiot, I donât want to deal with you too right now. Fuck. Off!â
Yena hangs up. You smash the pack of condoms to the ground, a nerve struck by her entitlement. Oh well, thatâs how they are during this time. Sheâll calm down by Thursday, maybe Friday. You get to sleep, not willing to even see the school building tomorrow.
#
The tide doesnât turn on Thursday, but for some goddamn reason, you still went up to that school. For the first time since you two became a couple, she completely ignored you. Youâve been waiting at the gate for an extra twenty minutes, which meant less sleep for you, which means more annoyance, which leads toâ
âWatch your fucking step, bro!â you growl at a random student, who was unlucky enough to be in your walking lane. This has quickly turned to a day where everyone is better off either treating you like the irritable King Saul or disappearing all together. A day like a threat; it all hangs by a thread that could tear at any moment.Â
Your patience is thin and so is Minjuâs arm when she tries to pick something up. Too bad for her, she is right there when you try to pass her. With the grace of an elephant you pass by her, painfully squeeze her arm against the table and hear a whimper of pain.Â
âWatch it, Minju,â you bark at her and aggressively take your seat, eyes locked on her. Everything about her looks has gotten worse, her posture looks like itâs about to break, she could fold in half at any minute. Any hobo would have more dignity. âIâm not in the mood for your bullshit.â
âIâit hurts.â
You can hear from the tone of her voice, stiff and pained, that her arm really hurts. Minju wraps her fingers around it gently and looks at you, but all you see are her shimmering eyes with nothing left inside, dull and deadâand so absolutely infuriating.Â
âLike I said: not in the mood.â
Minju hisses. Blood spills from her elbow. The class has taken notice of the situation and looks on in awe as you stand up and in front of Minju. Someone is brave enough to sneak out, probably to get a teacher to check on Minju and the open wound, from which beads of blood slowly drip to the floor.
âWhat have you done?â Yena suddenly whispers from behind you, makes herself beside Minju and looks at that twig-like arm. You canât channel your focus on her for long, Minjuâs sniffles drive you to the edge of insanity.Â
âShe was in the way, okay?â you respond, not bothering to give Yena another second of your time. For this lone, fleeting moment of your life, you can get it all out on this loserâthat no one would miss, that no one seesâin all honesty, you might do her a favor with this. Now, she has everyoneâs attention. They can also see how dreadful she looks and smells and dresses.
Minju is undeserving of life in your eyesâand your eyes are on her cheek.
âMaybe you should apologize?!â
A smack heard around the world. You couldâve done it so many ways: grab your wrist and use both fists to hit her or maybe angle your elbow to hit her eye socket. Instead, you went straight for her cheek with your left, swung like a boxer and Minju flew off the chair. No way she couldâve dodged this.
Knocked down after one punch, but there is absolutely nothing satisfying about it. Itâs all just a mess. The puddle of Minju on the floor, swollen face, bloody mouth, lifeless limbs. The crowd of classmates that surround her, take photos, groan in shock, turn around to not vomit. The hands of Yena all over your face, push you back towards your seat, into the arms of a teacher, then an officer.Â
Her face tells you everything. Youâll never see her again, not as your girlfriend, not as your trophy. Those times have ended with this punch heard around the world. In the end, it wasnât worth it. The ambulance arrives and you hear the principal yelling, not the words, just that he is yelling. To your surprise, Minju never looked better than nowâwith that maniacal smile on her face as they carry her towards the ambulance.
#
To your surprise, youâre not in a jail cell on Friday, but in the principal's office again. The sound of that smack you gave Minju, it finally left your ears. Youâre not deaf anymore and ready to take a chance at redemption. Of course your fist could not have slipped, not with all the witnesses and the power behind it, but maybe a couple hours of anger management will save you from a trial or whatever punishment may await you.
The principal looks angry, you expected as much, but the anger is mixed with shock, speechlessness and disbelief. He must have seen a ghost last night, or God himself. Youâve never seen this serious man look so at a loss for words.Â
The door opens, a young woman and a police officer walk in. She is crying, he is stern. They both wait for the principal to say something, but he just points at you, unable to come up with words that could describe you. At this point, youâve had it with their hesitation, their overreaction.Â
âWhat am I doing here?â you ask, calmly, quietly, as not to show your slight annoyance.Â
âT-tell him, Miss Kwon, please.â The principalâs voice is about to crack, so he turns around, hands in his hair, while Miss Kwon sits down next to you. You slowly remember why she is here. She is the confidant teacher, the kind soul, the one who cares for everyone. Even the likes of Minju.
âMin-Minju came to the hospital yesterday,â she begins, her sniffles stopped temporarily when the officer hands her a handkerchief. âShe, she looked good. Yes, she did, sur-sur-surprisingly.â
For the first time, you look at Miss Kwon, but she averts you. Her posture is frozen. She continues to talk as if you arenât there.
âI remember, she smiled, said something about you. We shouldnât be angry, you showed it to her. I asked her, but she just smiled. The doctors said she was free to leave tonight, to-to-tonightââ
Miss Kwon bursts out in tears again, her ruined face hidden behind two fragile hands that try to keep up her composure. Behind her is still the officer, the only one to look at you in the entire room, and his dark orbs are full of disgust, like he hates your guts to the core.Â
âWe found her.â Miss Kwon tries everything in her power to get out another sentence, you feel your breath halt for a bit. âShe was, she was hanging from the ce-ceilingââ
Miss Kwon wails, but all you hear is a clock ticking in the background.Â
âWhat?â
âShe killed herself!â the principal screams and slams his fists into the desk.
âShe is dead, she is dead!
He slams down again and again, the floor starts to shake.
âDo you understand me!? Do you regret it!?
He hits it and you realizeâ
âDo you regret it!?
âheâd love to hit you like this, over and over and over again.Â
âDo you regret it!?â
Do you regret the single tear rolling down your cold face?
I canât take this anymore!
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
An interest in photography. A camera in your hand since youâve been four years old. A nice motive. Click.
Other hobbies donât come to mind. Friends are none of your concern. Just a camera and the desire to one day make money with it. The grades have to match that desire though. Click. Back to study.
You have pictures of all of your classmates. Most of them taken in secret. All of them show how they grew the last couple of years. Yena and Chawon have matured, fit and attractive. The main bully has gotten bigger, meaner. Heâd kill you if he ever found your pictures of Yena. They might not be inappropriate or unflattering, but he is scarily obsessive.
One motive catches your eye. While most of your classmates have bloomed to varying degrees, one gorgeous girl has withered. Your pictures of Minju portray her as increasingly less well-dressed, less combed, less happy. You can barely catch a glimpse of her full, uncovered face. It bothers you how she hides it.
No, itâs intriguing. You canât keep your eyes off of her. Starting someday in the middle of the school year, you canât stop looking over to her, sitting in the midst of the classroom while being outside everything and everyone.
Snapshots here and there with your phone and a small digital camera during class. They form a collection of this disheveled girl. Youâd much rather have something truly worth framing, taking with your best camera model. This will have to do for the time being, you tell yourself.
Suddenly, one day, you swear that she seems to light up more and more. It is not noticeable for anyone else, no classmates, no teachers â only you know that Kim Minju shines like a star today. Dozens of pictures fill the folder of your phone. Your heart starts to race a little bit. Maybe you could approach her, get more of this glow, hell, even a full portraitâ
Donât be ridiculous! A picture like this is impossible to ask for. You never asked anyone for such a favor, let alone someone whose connection to you only exists in your mind, in your fantasy.
Minju is not in class. A day ago she was glowing; now she is hiding. Call her a solar eclipse and you a solar flare the way you burst. The thrill is burning in your veins, blood rushing to your head as you head out, towards Rainbow Street, your most expensive camera hanging around your neck. You stop next to one of the many older, Japanese style houses. There is a police car. You quickly hide behind a tree across the small street, much more akin to a trafficless avenue.
Two officers walk out, with them a few more people, dressed in black with sorrowful and disturbed faces. Minju is not amongst them, even though this is certainly her address. They murmur and whisper and cry about something, someone â they will miss him, why did he do it, oh this poor girl. The officers drive off, the crowd disassembles.
Right before you decide to leave, the sliding door to the small building opens. A fence and a wall obstruct your view, so you decide to climb up a few branches, just a few feet off the ground to maybe catch a glimpse offâ
Minju lays in the doorframe, the sliding door not fully opened. Her head rests against the side, tears endlessly streaming down her face. Small sobs, contortions of her beautiful features, her hair everywhere yet at the same time, youâve never seen so much of her face.
Her features are flawless. This moment feels like a personal show for you. Instinctively, you reach for the camera and take a photo. Then climb higher, take another photo, then again. Minju does not notice you, but her crying intensifies once more. Her hands try to grab something. She wants to hold on so bad. Click. She gasps, cries out. Click. Words stuck in her throat, lips dry and torn. Click.
A hundred more clicks as you try not to overdose on this perfect moment. You have never felt such a rush. Minju is all yours, these pictures are your proof. Nobody gets to see her like this. Your heart races at the thought that this might be the only moment, your only chance to see this spectacle. A spectacle for you and to you only.
With a hint of disgust about yourself you walk home an hour later. Jerk off to her once because what is one more sin for today? The next day, she isnât at school, but you donât visit her either. The day after that she is back, but you can barely stand looking at her. In the one picture you take Minju looks her absolute worst, worse than her endless sobbing and crying and screeching and hair pulling.Â
You decide to go back to Rainbow Street the very next day, early in the morning. One hour from the start of school and you stand before the house again. You carefully glance at the sliding door. There is a gap, itâs open.
Your heart skips a beat. The thrill of just having a peak is enough to push you forward. Nobody is out here this early, nothing will disrupt your trespassing. Increasingly rapid breaths leave your nostrils as you put an eye to the gap. Itâs completely dark inside, just a faint white reflection hovering in the hallway catches your attention.
Your heart now races. Fingers push open fully the door that was ajar. The dim morning twilight floods the dark house and the faint white turns to a clearer picture. A simple gown, worn out, hangs from the ceiling.
A scream gets stuck in your throat as your knees give out and you collapse on the floor. Minjuâs eyes are wide open, dead and with yet to dry tears in them. Bruises on her neck, bruises on her hands, lips in a hideous purple. The noose barely holds her at the jaw, blood drips from the corners of her mouth.
You have never seen nor imagined something as utterly horrifying. Itâs like every negative emotion is flooding you for your sins. Sins you have committed, sins you still commit. You find Minju more beautiful than ever.
Beneath her dangling feet you find a letter in crude hand-writing.
To my dearest daughter
I know you wonât understand this but this is necessary. Ever since your mother passed, I havenât had a clear thought. My head is a mess, my mind isnât mine. But I have to take responsibility. I have to stop this voice, this feeling for you. You look so much like her, itâs too painful for me, I canât look at you. Please forgive me, Iâm going to her now. For your sake too.
Please forgive me, Minju. I love you.
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
âWhere is your dad?â
âOut. Somewhere. Drinking, probably.â
âItâs been a year, huh?â
âWhat are you doing here, anyways?â
âKeeping you company. Wanna play Mario Kart?â
âSo you just wanna game? Play something else then, at home.â
âHey, Minju, wait! We can do something else if you want. I just need some â excuse to stay with you, something to pass today.â
âBut I donât want to see anyone today.â
âNot even me?â
âDefinitely not you.â
âOkay, thatâs fine. But promise me that youâll call me if you need anything â and text me before bed.â
âWhat are you? My lover?â
âJust a worried friend.â
âIâm doing fine.â
âYou donât look like youâre fine. If you want to be alone, Iâll go now. But Iâm only a call away.â
âThanks. Bye.â
#
âMinju! Minju! Open the door, please, open it now!
âMinju! Why werenât you in school yesterday? Are you okay? Open the door!
âI swear Iâll kick it down right now!â
âHe is dead! He is dead, fucking dead and itâs my fault!â
âIâm coming in!â
âNo! Go away! Donât look at me, Iâm a demon, a devil! I killed him!â
âCalm down, please. Put, put that away.â
âNo!â
âPut the rope away, Minju. Please.â
ââŚâ
âOkay, now breathe. Slow, calm, steââ
âI donât want to breathe â I want to suffocate like he did.â
âMinju, please.â
âI killed my father. Iâm a murderer, I should die.â
âMinju, please. You need to breathe. No more sobbing, no more screams. Listen to my heartbeat.â
âI-I canât, I donât deserve to!â
âThen I will hold you closer, until youâve given up this awful plan, until your tears are dried, until you can tell me whyââ
ââŚâ
âMinju,
âI donât want to lose you.
âYouâre my best friend.â
âPlease, let me, let me go. Iâm a demon, a monster.â
âEven if you were, Iâd stick with you. Iâm not going to let you die tonight.â
ââŚâ
âWhat is in your hands?â
âMy reason.â
âYour final letter?â
âMy dads final letter.â
âWhatever is written in this â it does not mean that itâs your fault and that you need to die too. Minju, isnât life beautiful?â
âItâs fucking not. I canât do this anymore.â
âYouâre right to feel this way. But itâs the only life you got and even if this is just me being selfish, I want you to continue trying, continue living.â
Okay. Thank you.
Living With You (Pt. 1)
Olivia Marsh x Male Reader
5.5k Words
Life has been full of ups and downs but you still graduated from a well-known university in Australia. Consistent grades, clean record, great friends, you had your own motorcycle and after a few more months of saving, youâd be able to buy your own car. If you think about it, youâre really living the life your younger self dreamed of but somehow, it still felt incomplete.
You didnât feel empty and, although you were multilingual, you didnât feel like a robot. It just felt like you werenât whole, like you were just drifting through life happily but not at a hundred percent.
You were fluent in 3 to 4 languages other than English and this helped you land a stable job.
However, after almost three years of staying in the same company where you felt overworked, underpaid, and undervalued, you decided to resign and maybe take a couple of months off before looking for another job.
It was definitely the right thing to do
You felt better after spending some time by yourself and catching up with some of your friends and realizing that youâre one lucky bastard. Why?
Because you graduated from the same university and became close friends with THE Olivia Marsh. A beautiful South Korean-Australian girl with a bright and lovely personality.
She had signed with a label and debuted as an artist but you still got to hangout with her every now and then.
The two of you met at a cafe recently. She told you about her job and you told her about yours.
âYou know, I heard youâre a great photographer as well. Is it true?â Olivia said while munching on a pastry she ordered.
âAnd where did you hear that?â You said, leaning back comfortably in your seat.
âOh, around campus. They didnât really say your name, they just called you Du*ling*.â She said, a teasing look on her face.
You laughed at the nickname.
âSo Iâm an owl now? Not sure about âgreatâ but I do know how to work angles and lighting and stuff like that.â You replied, not really one to boast.
âGreat! Iâll give your number to my manager and heâll contact you regarding the price and schedule.â Excitement evident in her voice.
âWait, what? Whatâs happening?â You were confused.
âWell, youâre looking for a job and weâve been looking for a photographer so I was thinking we could help each other out?â Your best friend said while pulling her phone out from her bag.
âYes, of course! Iâd be happy to help.â You said without hesitation.
âThank you so much! Itâll be worth it, I promiseâ A smile appears on her face.
âI should be the one thanking you,â you said, returning a smile.
Hours went by of catching-up, eating some pastries while spilling some tea, until both of you eventually parted ways and said goodnight.
You received a text from her manager the next day and spent hours preparing and organizing what youâll need. Your outfit, different lenses, an extra of this and that; triple-checking everything before packing all your gear.
The rest of the week went by quickly.
Liv kept texting you that sheâll try to convince her team to increase your pay and you kept saying that she really did not have to but she insisted on it.
D-day eventually came, you punched in the address they sent and rode your motorcycle.
When you arrived, everything had already been set up but you couldnât find your friend and she wasnât replying to your texts either.
You asked around and were told that they were still getting her outfits ready so you looked for a bench nearby to set up your camera.
Her manager spotted you and gave you more information about todayâs shoot while leading you to the first location. You followed and saw this wide area where a few lights and a huge fan were set-up.
âIâll go see if sheâs ready. You can wait here and let the others know if you want to adjust anything.â Her manager said before leaving you there.
While waiting, you decided to talk to some of the staff youâll be working with and noticed an âXâ mark on the ground.
I guess thatâs where sheâll be standing
You were scanning the area when Olivia finally came out. She was wearing an all-white dress that hugged her curves and showed just enough cleavage. It was the first time you saw her in a dress and your jaw nearly dropped to the floor.
She walked towards the mark and the shoot finally started. You held your camera steady, taking multiple photos in different angles as she tried different poses.
Her radiant beauty and stunning visuals just lured you in and you couldnât help but notice the way her long brown hair complimented her overall look, how smooth her skin looks, her perfectly pink lips, how the sunlight seemed to dance on her skin, and how comfortable she was.
You remained professional and continued taking photos. They switched the fan on this time and she closed her eyes as the wind blew her hair. You moved to the right, trying a different angle, and she struck a different pose. One that you wouldnât forget.
She placed her hands behind her back, her feet together, and bent forward almost halfway. You had a perfect view of her cleavage and the sunlight hit perfectly, showing you her silhouette underneath the thin fabric of her dress.
Thank God I have my own camera.
After a few more clicks, everyone moved back inside the studio and you followed.
âJust one more outfit and weâre almost done, keep up the good work!â You heard someone say.
Olivia went back to the dressing room and you looked through the photos you had taken.
No, keep it professional. You told yourself, trying not to zoom in on certain photos.
Distracted, you didnât see her come out and just heard another staff member shout âLetâs switch the lights!â
You looked up, the houselights went off and the studio lights switched on. Standing in the center was your best friend, in another white dress that revealed more than the previous one did.
She wore a white tube top paired with a white skirt that stopped mid-thigh, and a white see-through cover up.
Itâll be worth it, I promise!
Her words repeated in your head. Is this what she meant?
You were already struggling to keep your thoughts at bay and this made it harder.
Positioning yourself, you let out a soft exhale and started taking photos. When you felt you had enough front-view shots, you switched angles and.. shit
Her skirt split at the sides, revealing an even shorter and almost skin-toned shorts, causing a bulge to grow in your pants. You cleared your throat and continued to take more photos.
After a couple more shots, the same staff member shouted âOK, Houselights please! That ends todayâs photoshoot, great job everyone. Letâs start packing-up.â
Olivia smiled and thanked everyone before disappearing again to get changed. You grabbed your things while greeting and thanking the others before walking out towards your bike.
Ready to leave, you were about to text her that youâd head out first but her manager spotted you and called you back in.
âGlad to have caught you before you left. I just sent it to you, could you check if you received it?â He asked.
âAnd sorry about this but itâs my childâs birthday today, could I ask you to drive her back to her place? Security will stay behind so donât worry, you can ask them for help.â
You pulled out your phone and saw the exact amount that was agreed upon sent to your bank account.
âYes, I got it. Thank you! And sure, I can do thatâ You said with a smile.
âThank you as wellâ Both of you shook hands. âOh, I almost forgot. She said she had something for you. You can head down that hall, last room on the left.â Oliviaâs manager said before waving goodbye.
You turned and headed towards that room, knocking before you entered.
âHey, itâs me. Iâm coming in.â You said.
âOh, perfect!â She was still in that see-through dress, taking photos with her phone.
âHelp me take photos so I can post them later.â Liv said, handing you her phone.
âYour manager said you had something for me?â You asked while taking a few photos of her then handing back her phone.
âRight, lemme go grab it.â She turned to the side to reach for a pouch and you noticed those white shorts she had on earlier were now gone.
âHere,â she stood a little too close and gave you the pouch, âKeep it a secret.â She smirked and turned around.
You opened the pouch and inside it was a black remote. You looked back at her and saw her standing in front of a full-body mirror, her back facing you.
âIs this..â you were about to ask what it was but she cut you off before you could.
âLock the door for me?â Olivia said, removing the see-through cover up and letting it drop to the floor.
âIâve really been wanting to try this so I looked for someone I can trust.â She confessed while sitting on a high chair she positioned in front of the mirror.
That skirt looked useless as it rode up higher, revealing more than it should, and she knew it.
âAnd Iâm that someone?â You said as you locked the door before turning around and walking towards her until you were standing right behind her, remote in your hand.
âEveryone should be gone by now,â A seductive smile on her face, âgo ahead and press it.â
âNot yet,â you replied.
You felt like something took over you as you found yourself grabbing a nearby tripod, attaching your phone and setting it up so that itâs out of sight but capturing her entire body through the mirror.
âSay the magic word,â you said after hitting the record button.
âPlease.â She said, sitting like a good girl with her hands on her lap.
âPlease what?â You teased as you stood behind her.
âPlease, Daddy..use meâ She begged, lifting her skirt and spreading her legs.
Fuck
No panties, vibrator already inside her pussy.
A switch flipped inside you and, suddenly, everything that made you hesitate was now gone.
âOlivia Marsh, were you always this naughty?â You asked, breathing into her ear.
She bit her lip and let out a soft moan.
Your best friend was about to speak but you immediately turned it on and increased the intensity.
âAH! Yess!â She gasped.
You slid your free hand from her shoulder down to her cleavage, cupping her tits under her tube top.
âA growing artist but youâre letting me control your little toy and film you like this?â You continued teasing while groping her tits and pinching her nipples.
âMmh, I donât care. I trust you.â She said in between moans, her hands reaching back to grab your shoulders to try and steady herself.
You brought the intensity to the highest level before putting the remote in your pocket and reaching down to rub her clit.
âOh god! YES!â Her moans grew louder.
You leaned down and started kissing her neck and shoulders, leaving marks that would be difficult to hide, as you rubbed her clit faster.
âOh, Fuck! That feels SO good!â Her head tilted back, expressions becoming more lewd, pussy getting wetter.
âAre you ready to cum, Livvy?â You asked, squeezing her soft breasts and applying more pressure as you rub her pussy lips.
âYes, yes! Please let me cum.. Please!â She moaned, her grip tightening on your shirt.
âThen cum.â You commanded and quickly pulled the vibrator out of her pussy, keeping her seated and steady.
She let out a loud, pleasure-filled scream as she squirted. Her first toe-curling orgasm, that will soon become too many to count, drenched her skirt and spilled her love juice all over the mirror.
You let her catch her breath and turned off the vibrator, putting it aside. When you turned around, she was trying to stand and walk but ended up falling on her knees instead.
The way she looked made you harder, it started to hurt.
On her knees, covered in sweat with a smile on her face. The look in her eyes told you that she enjoyed it and that she wanted..
âMore..â Olivia said breathily. âUse me.â
You stood still, the air in the room shifting as you stared at each other.
âCrawl.â A command from you made her let out a little whimper.
She knew she needed more but she couldnât walk. You watched as she crawled towards you, her skirt wet, thighs glistening, hair sticking to her skin.
When she got close enough, you unbuttoned your jeans and she unzipped it. Unable to wait, she pulled it down immediately along with your boxers. Your cock sprung free and the innocent look in her eyes turned into a look of hunger.
âDaddy,â almost a whisper, âso bigâ
You could swear her eyes sparkled when she said those words.
âOpen.â The only word she needed to hear.
Her mouth opened and, in a blink of an eye, she was already sucking, licking, and stroking what she couldnât fit in her mouth.
Your hands flew to her head and you pulled her by the hair to bring her back closer to the mirror, your cock muffling her scream.
When you stopped, she hollowed her cheeks and bobbed her head faster.
âMmh fuck, thatâs it. Make it worth watching..over and overâ You growled.
Tucking her hair back, you place your hands firmly on her head and thrust your hips to match her rhythm.
She gags and chokes but doesn't pull away. Her hands feel your thighs then one cups your balls while the other disappears in between her legs.
Wet squelching sounds start to echo around the room.
You looked down at her and seeing her stare straight at you while taking your cock in her mouth like that brought you closer to the edge.
Livvy pulled off with a wet pop to catch her breath but continued cupping your balls while fingering herself.
âNgh..ahh, Iâm about to cumâ She moaned.
âThen letâs do it together.â You said, shoving your dick back in her mouth and down her throat.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as you quickened your pace and she finger-fucked herself faster. Her hand that was squeezing your balls started quickly tapping your thighs, signalling that she was close.
âDo it. Cumâ You groaned.
Her body trembled and her head jerked back, mouth wide open as she came.
Perfect
You shot a heavy load of cum inside her mouth, some dripped down onto her perfectly round cleavage.
âAhh,â a smile formed on her face as she felt your seed fall onto her tongue.
Olivia slowly pulled back, keeping her lips sealed to avoid spilling any more of your sticky white fluids.
You brought a finger to her chin, making her look up at you, and she knew exactly what to do.
She swallowed and, with a finger, she scooped up what dripped onto her tits and licked it clean.
âGood girl,â you complimented.
Her hair was a mess, cheeks rosy, and her skirt absorbed most of what wouldâve otherwise been a puddle.
âYou're gonna have to help me clean upâ. She said with a little giggle.
âRight,â you smiled, âhere.â You reached a hand out and helped her up, guiding her to the closest chair.
Physically, you appeared composed but in your head, it was a complete mess.
You just made HER orgasm twice, received a blowjob from a famous artist and came in her mouth.
You had a lot of questions you wanted answers to but for now, you needed to clean up.
âGot any towels or wet wipes maybe?â You asked her.
âIt should be..in there.â She said, still a little out of breath.
You opened a cabinet and thankfully, it looked newly stocked. You grabbed 2 towels and a pack of wet wipes and walked towards your best friend.
âThank you..Sorry to ask you this but my legs are still weak, can you wipe those?â She asked, pointing at the floor and the mirror.
âDo I get anything in return?â You joked.
âRound 2.â She said,
Your eyes widened. You weren't expecting her to say that. Heck, you weren't expecting a reply at all.
âI have that on video,â You replied.
She just smiled as she cleaned herself up and did her best to get changed.
You grabbed your phone to stop the recording and did the same.
When both of you had finished, you carried her on your back on the way to your motorcycle. Surprisingly, the security team didn't ask why you were carrying her and just quietly brought her things to their car.
You only had one helmet so you gave it to her and hopped on your bike. One SUV led the way and another followed right behind you as you drove to where Livvy was staying.
Questions floated in your head but you wanted it to be just the two of you so you waited. It was about a 30 minute long drive and both of you just stayed quiet.
No words were spoken but your brain was actively replaying and remembering everything that had happened earlier. How she looked in each dress, every pose she struck, her silhouette, that see-through cover up falling to the floor..her cleavage, those soft full tits, her warm mouth engulfing your cock.
You were getting hard again and even with your biker jacket on, you could feel her chest pressing onto your back during the entire ride.
Whenever there were people around, her arms would simply be wrapped around your waist but in empty streets, she would carefully and subtly stroke your cock through your pants.
The drive felt longer than expected and youâd try to stop her at red lights but she still kept going. After 2 minutes on a straight road with little people and a left at the stoplight, you finally arrived at the hotel.
Following the SUV, you head into the parking lot and she gives you one final teasing stroke as she hops off your bike, a knowing smirk on her face as she takes the helmet off.
The guards carry her things and lead you towards the elevator. You counted 2 luggages, 1 backpack, and 1 hand-carry.
âThank you so much! We can take it from here.â Livvy said with a bright smile, slightly bowing as she thanked the security team.
âAre you sure?â One of them asked.
This was an opportunity for you and, with all the teasing she did, you couldnât wait anymore.
âDonât worry, I got it. Thank you so much!â You said, smiling kindly and reaching for the bags.
The elevator doors opened just in time and you went in, bringing all the bags with you.
âWhich floor are you on?â You asked as the doors closed.
âOh, hold on.â Your artist friend pulls out a card from her handbag and taps it on the scanner before pressing the button for the highest floor.
âAll the way up, huhâ You said.
âYup, they booked the entire floor.â Olivia replied.
When you got off the elevator, you saw some of the staff members you had met during the photoshoot come out of the other rooms.
Damn, she wasn't kidding
âOh, hey! Wanna come join us? We're all having dinner together and might grab a few drinks afterâ One of them spoke, extending an invite.
You just shrugged, showing that your hands were full, then looked at Liv.
âWe're good, thank you! I have an early schedule tomorrow. You guys have fun!â She politely declined.
âAlright, get some rest!â The staff waved goodbye and got in the elevator.
âBusy sched?â You asked as she unlocked the door to her room.
âUm, I might've lied?â Scrunching her nose a little as she smiled, making you chuckle.
âGood one. Where should I put these?â Gently tapping on the luggages with your foot.
âJust leave them here,â she pointed at a corner in the room.
Only then did you get a good look at the room and her outfit. The latter almost makes your jaw drop again.
âWowâ You pretended to look around, hoping she didn't notice you scanning her body with your eyes.
âThis room is amazing, isn't it?â She said, plopping down on the wide purple couch.
The couch was to your left when you entered, behind it were floor-to-ceiling windows that stretched towards the end of the room where a bed perfect for 2 laid centered, a work desk beside it with one office chair, and to your right was a sliding door that led to a huge bathroom complete with a bathtub and a frameless glass shower area.
It was indeed amazing but she was just too beautiful. Her long wavy hair that covered the marks you made on her neck was now tied up in a ponytail. She was wearing a white sleeveless cropped top, brown leather jacket with one side sliding off her shoulder, and a pair of denim jeans, her shoes discarded by the door.
âBeautiful.â You exhale, your eyes meeting hers.
âCome on, sit down. It's really comfortable.â Livvy said.
You took off your shoes and sat to her left.
âYup, I could fall asleep on this couch.â You said as you leaned back, sliding down a little so you could rest your head.
âItâs just 5:40, donât sleep yet. Iâm gonna order food for dinner, what do you want?â She asked, nudging you awake.
You
âIâll have whatever youâre having.â You replied, your mind too busy with thoughts of her.
âAlright,â she punched in the order, âit might take a while so..â
âWhy are you doing this?â You finally asked, interrupting her.
âHm? Well, you were looking for a job and we needed a photographerâ She replied, sounding so innocent.
âNot that. Donât get me wrong, Iâm truly grateful but..â you paused, sat up straight, and looked at her, âwhy are you doing-â
Her lips landed on yours, a quick and sudden kiss.
âThis?â She whispered, her face just inches away from yours.
âThat,â you replied.
A few seconds of silence and of just looking at each other's eyes, searching, admiring, memorizing. Then she answered..
âI saw the way you looked at me and,â She paused and sat closer, her knees touching yours. âI thought Iâd try, you know, teasing you with a few poses.â
âIt really was nothing at first but the more you looked and the more aware I became, the more I felt..weird?â She continued, unsure of how she felt.
âSo you noticed that I was..staring?â You couldnât help but place your hand on her right thigh with how close she was.
âYou werenât just staring, it was like you were mmh..â your hand was slowly moving higher, her jeans were the only thing stopping you from feeling her skin, âI donât know what it was but..I started liking it.
Her right hand landed on your left thigh, a little too close to where your bulge was growing.
âAnd in the dressing room? Do you really trust me that much?â You asked, your pinky finger just mere inches away from where she needed you to be.
âI started liking it and.. my mind wandered. I was suddenly imagining..â another pause as she squeezed her thighs together.
âImagining what, livvy?â You teased, sliding your hand away.
Almost immediately, her legs parted again, craving for more attention in between.
âImagining..different scenarios and it turned me on. Now, I canât help it..â She got up and straddled your lap, her hands on your shoulders.
âI really trust you and, right now, I really really need you.â She confessed, almost begging.
âKiss me,â is all you said and she dove right in, crashing her lips on yours.
You felt her thighs through her jeans and slid your hand up, stopping only to give her ass a gentle squeeze before continuing your journey of conquering, feeling her lower back and toned abdomen, then sliding her jacket off, all while you two shared a very intimate kiss.
Her arms wrapped around your neck, hips grinding in a slow teasing rhythm, your tongues meeting and dancing, soft moans escaping her lips.
Your little make-out session became more and more heated, both of you pulling away only for short breaths.
Minutes had gone by with the two of you still on the couch, in the same position. The only difference is that you were now topless and Oliviaâs jeans were left crumpled on the floor, a wet spot now evident on her underwear.
Neither of you wanted to pull away but you were running out of breath and you could tell that she was too. It was all too perfect to end it there but, as if on cue, both of you pulled away, a thin string of spit snapping.
She was panting but her hips still kept going. You just watched as you caught your breath.
âIs this dinner?â You joked, making her let out the cutest and hottest laugh youâve ever heard.
âNo, silly. But it definitely tastes good.â Her reply made you smile.
âWe can keep going then?â You asked.
âMhmâ Olivia nodded, her smile reaching cheek to cheek.
âGreatâ
Without any warning, you attack her neck with open-mouthed kisses and make a trail of hickeys down to her shoulders, leaving your hands on the small of her back.
Livvyâs moans grew a little louder, her hands flew up and her fingers tangled in your hair.
âMmh..easyâ She tries to slow you down by tugging at your hair and pushing your shoulders but you remain unfazed.
âDo you not like it?â You asked before moving to her other shoulder.
âI..love it, just slow d- Ah!â A surprised but excited gasp.
You pinned her down on the couch, right hand intentionally landing on her chest, fingers ready to pull the white cloth down to expose her tits, your left hand gripping her smooth and creamy thigh.
âI canât.â You breathe. âYou, you did something to me..and now I want more.â You say before crashing your lips on hers once again.
Your tongues meet for another dance and you pull her top downwards, exposing her left tit and half of the other. You cup it in your hand, rub and pinch her erect nipple, and slide your free hand down and inside her now soaked panties, squeezing her soft plump ass.
She moans in your mouth and her hands reach down to unbutton your jeans. You feel it and follow her movements, pausing momentarily to push it down along with your boxers and kick it off before continuing what might be the longest and craziest make-out session youâve ever had.
Your hands travel back to where they were but hers slide down, one hand stroking your erection and the other taking off her wet underwear.
âMmh, shit.â You let out a low growl.
Everything about her was just perfect and you were getting addicted.
You didnât know right then and there but she felt the exact same way.
Intoxicated
With her underwear gone and pre-cum already dripping from your cock, you stopped the kiss and searched her eyes for an answer. No signs of hesitation.
She spread her legs voluntarily, pulled you close, and aligned you to her dripping entrance. Your tip felt the warmth of her folds and
*Ring Ring!*
The telephone rang, making both of you jolt slightly. Her hips bucked up and yours thrust forward, unintentionally pushing your entire length inside her needy pussy. Both your hand and hers immediately flew up to cover her mouth to muffle a loud, pleasure-filled scream.
You groaned, feeling her slippery wet and tight folds, and muffled your moan by diving into the crook of her neck.
You wanted to forget about everything else and just fuck her right there but the telephone kept ringing.
âLooks like we have to get that,â you whispered in her ear.
âCan you reach for it?â Olivia asked you.
You stretched your arm, reaching for it, and handed it over to her.
âDonât. Move.â She mouthed before greeting the person on the phone.
You were ready to stay still but you felt her tighten around you.
Fuck
Slowly, you slid halfway out, trying not to pound her while sheâs on the phone. Your movement made her stutter a few words and her free hand press on your chest as if telling you to stop but her pussy still gripped you tight.
Her wet, warm folds and the way she squeezed you felt too good, it was driving you crazy.
You gave in and started moving your hips, pulling out âtil only the head is left inside and pushing back all the way in.
No hard thrusts. Just slow, complete movements.
âStop. Not now.â Her voice weaker than a whisper to avoid being heard on the phone.
Livâs free hand kept trying to push you away but her pussy welcomed the intrusion, getting wetter as minutes passed.
Finally, the call ended and she gestured for you to return the telephone.
âI told you to stopâ She said, her hands pulling you closer this time and her legs locking you in place.
âI canât.â You replied, thrusting a little faster.
âMmh, st-stop.. We need- nnghâ Livvy moaned, struggling to speak as you went faster and harder.
âD-dinner..down- stairs!â is all she managed to say.
You move onto a kneeling position and bring her legs up to your shoulders without slowing down.
âYou keep telling me to stop but, ever since you got on the phone, your pussy wonât stop squeezing me so tight.â You tease her, hands sliding from her toned abs and up to fondle her tits.
âAahh! D-daddy..easy, please!â She begged, her moans getting louder.
Despite her protest, you could feel that she was close.
âDonât hold it back, loveâ You quickly realized what you said but acted like nothing happened.
âwhat..ngh fuck..what did you just sa- AAH!!â You cut her off, pressing a thumb to her sensitive clit and making her cum.
Her body trembled, mouth agape, eyes rolled back, hands searching for something to grip as another toe-curling orgasm traveled through her.
You grab her wrists, cross her arms above her stomach and thrust real hard, releasing your thick load deep inside her.
âDeep.. oh fUck!â She moaned, a dazed smile on her face.
You let go of her wrists and lean down, planting a kiss on her forehead.
âThat was amazing, liv.â You whispered, gently tucking her hair behind her ear.
âYour dick feels amazing, Daddy,â Olivia replied breathily, her hands caressing your arms.
âFuck, who taught you how to talk like that?â You said before crashing your lips on hers again, now completely addicted to their softness and how her tongue danced with yours.
âMmh, wait. We really..have to stop now mh, and grab dinner.â She said in between kisses, fingers tangling in your hair then sliding away.
You paused to look at her. You didnât want to but she was right. Thereâs no doubt that you were hungry for each other but you were also getting hungry for actual food.
You gave her one last peck on the lips and slowly pulled out. A smile of satisfaction creeped up on your face as you saw cum drip out of her stretched hole.
She felt it too and let out a little giggle. That giggle of hers that was cute and sexy at the same time.
âThereâs so much, itâs spilling out.â A seductive and satisfied tone in her voice, her fingers trying to push the liquid back in.
âThatâs going to expose our little secret when we head out. Canât let that happen.â You reach down for your pants and grab the little pouch she gave you from one of the pockets.
âHere, to keep it from dripping.â You pull out the vibrator and slowly push it inside her.
âMh, that could work.â She smirked and you helped her up.
âCan you walk?â You asked.
âYup, for now.â She replied with a wink and headed towards her luggage.
You watched her get changed, admiring her bare body and creamy skin, while you grabbed an extra shirt from your backpack.
After 5 or so minutes, both of you had gotten dressed and headed towards the door.
âYou ready?â Asking her just to be sure.
âNot quite.â Her hand slid from your shoulders to your neck and she pulled you in for another kiss.
Your hands automatically move to her hips as you return the kiss and gently pin her against the door.
âMmh, youâre intoxicating.â She smiles and pulls away, hand reaching for the door knob.

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Beautiful Phantasma
Kim Minju x Male Reader ft. Yena, other idols
Length: 13.550 words
Tags/TW: angst and drama, edgy and unsettling, mentions and description of all the bad things, a cruel story in four acts, no smut, but mentions of sex, desire, depression and mostly suicide
Thanks for 9.090 followers!
(A/N: The worst way to return with sth unsexy that I had lying around. Make of it what you will - I had different plans for this, but I'm happy I got something done. This is fic no. 149. One more to go!)
âFinally!â
âLetâs get outta here.â
âIâm so hungry, God.â
âJake, where is myââ
âEveryone, settle down! The bell doesnât dismiss you, I do!â
A collective groan, some curses in the back of the class, someone drops his backpack. Oh, how cliche.
âLetâs just finish this final paragraph, okay?â
âFine. Iâll read it.â
âThen weâll have this shit over with.â
âNo cursing in my classroom!â
Snickers from the girls to your right, quick, mindless reading to your left, someone drops a pen. Didn't this happen yesterday?
âVery well done. Class is over, have a nice weekend.â
âBut Maâam, itâs only Thursday.â
âOh. My bad. Then weâll see each other tomorrow.â
Two dozens of bags get lifted from the ground, books and paper crammed into tight spaces, someone drops their smartphone. Yes, definitely deja vu.
âShit!â
âWell done, Yena. I bet itâs cracked now.â
The slow turn of a delicate hand. Hundreds of scratches make the glass look like a spiderâs uncarefully spread web. Someone cracks a laugh. Am I dreaming?
âI told you. Now, now, donât cry. Iâll get you some ice cream, hm~?
Yenaâs sobs and Chaewonâs coos can still be heard down the hallway. You shake your head in disbelief. Of course, this exact scenario didn't happen yesterday. It is as close to impossible as winning the yearly lottery daily, but your feeling of deja vu remains. The days blend into one another, nothing significantly changes.
The setting? The same. No one is going to paint over the old, dirty walls of this school to give them a new color, new life. They remain as a seemingly immovable constant, just like the yellow lights at the ceiling or the barely cleaned windows separating the outside from the classroom and the classroom from the floor. Maybe the weather changes, but at this point youâre even uncertain of that. Gray clouds lay on the world, an impenetrable layer that reeks of rain.
The time? The same. Your school's schedule is its most stable factor. The principal enforcing it is as certain as taxes and death. If too many teachers are missing to fill in the gaps, he himself will step in to ensure the absolute maximum of education, even if itâs 5pm. Part of this tyrannical precision is the teacherâs right to extend a lesson past the bellâs ring. It is utterly ineffective, as no one actually listens anymore, but it will never change.
The characters? The same. Not a day goes by where mostly bubbly Yena isnât whining about something, be it the grandest of issues or a lost hair. Her best friend Chaewon is always on her side. With her calm, kind words and envious patience she is the perfect Yin to Yenaâs Yang. Then there is Eunbi, the class representative, with amazing grades, amazing visuals and eyes colder than the arctis. Sakura is everyoneâs crush, a girl who adores video games, looks absolutely beautiful and is a social magnet. Sadly for all the boys, she only has eyes for girls.
You could go on and on about all the other colorful characters in your class, friends, enemies, classmates, but it all leads to the same hole. The hole of repetitiveness. Not only the lives around you seem to be in an endless loopâ you play along perfectly. Your thought processes all wander off into similar directions, your banter with Jimin and Chan is always about the same topics, hell, even your yawns during Mrs. Baeâs classes are perfectly timed. Day in day out, you always stay to your routine.
Isnât it time to break out? To stand up and instead of going home, go to a friend's house? Walk through the park for another hour? Run downtown to eat some fresh churros? Your desire to break out grows, but it cannot overcome your rationale telling you:
Why am I concerned about this? Everyday life looks similar at times. So what.
A shuffle. The sound of a chair scratching over the floor brings the battle ensuing in your mind to a screeching halt and you jump. Someone is still in the classroom with you. This is unusual. Usually, you are the last one to leave. You donât need to take a train or bus to get home, itâs just a fifteen minute walk, so unlike your classmates, you donât need to hurry to the awfully timed public transportation. Today, however, someone decided to break with the loop.
You turn your head to search for the culprit. In the last row, someone sleeps, their head on their crossed arms, chair pushed lightly back to make the position more comfortable. In your many years of school, you have seen a couple of students sleep like this, even during class. Mingi was one of them, but he transferred last year. Yoongi as well, but he got his act together and is almost on par with Eunbi in terms of grades.Â
You are sure itâs her when you see chestnut-colored hair dripping down on all sides of her head. Kim Minju, the quietest person in the class. Itâs been years since you heard her speak a word louder than a whisper. She is always reserved, unapproachable and frankly, you sometimes forget she is still in the same class as you. She is a fitting last remaining option for someone sleeping at their desk.
âHey,â you speak into the room, waiting for Minju to react. She does, by lifting her head up from the scratched surface of her table. Her eyes, slightly hidden by hair all over her face, dart around the room until they find you.
âHey,â she says in a sleepy voice. You canât help but smile. Minju looks somewhat adorable and helpless like this. Although most of her expression is behind curtains of brown locks, she looks like a lost child searching for her parents in a crowded theme park.Â
âAre you okay? Donât you want to go home?âÂ
âLater.â
âLater? But class is already over.â
âYouâre still here too.â
You chuckle a little. Her voice sounds like she is still in dreamland and her head is unable to be upright. She lays on her arms once more. She is odd and you canât help but be intrigued by it. Carefully, you stand up and take the seat next to her. Minju looks at you with surprise in her damp eyes. You wish you could read them better as she hasnât shown signs of being talkative.Â
âThis must not be comfortable. Iâd choose a bed over this any day.â
âItâs fine.â
You sigh as Minju turns her face away from you. This has been fun while it lasted, but she is frustrating to talk to. If sheâd resent you, she would have already told you to piss off, but with this not being the case you feel like youâre just annoying her.Â
âYour choice. Iâll go now though.â
âOkay.â
âSee you tomorrow!â
No further words from her. Minju is clearly not mentally in this place. Is this the fate of those who only dream and donât listen in class, you ask yourself while stepping out of the room. If so, she needs to be pulled out of it quickly. Somehow.
#
Today is not going to be the same. This sentiment has been stuck in your mind ever since you woke up. However, you havenât really acted like it. Your alarm went off the same minute it always does, you listen to the same three songs while chewing on your favorite cereal and watching the same show. Teeth brushing and time to sprint to school have remained at their bare minimum, hell, the list could go on and on. Your sentiment has just been a faint thought. Until you step into the classroom.
âAnd then, and then he didnât respond.â
âAw, I think it will be fine. You wrote him so late, he probably just fell asleep.â
âEveryone, please stay calm! The teacher is coming.â
Yena is whining about something, some boy from the grade above or below. Again. Chaewon is comforting her with the patience of all the angels in all the heavens. Again. Eunbi is urging everyone to sit down with pronounced gestures and a loud voice. Again. Itâs like youâve heard these exact sentences before. This is beyond absurd and you have to do something. You will do something.Â
Before Mrs. Kang starts the lesson, you take a longer route to your desk. With full intention, you pass by Minjuâs desk and knock on it twice. Like yesterday, her messy head lifts from her arms and you try to find her eyes through the veil of her greasy hair.Â
Doing something absurd like this has left you without a plan, without any words to speak, so you just put on a dumb smile. Minju doesnât return it. She simply flops back onto her arms. Itâs like reality is forcing everyone into their positions and if you donât fight back, it might just get you as well. You sit down on your chair and look at the unamused girl as the first couple of lines are drawn onto the board.Â
The lesson comes and goes like a soft wind. As soon as Mrs. Kang wraps it up, you have already forgotten everything she said. Your mind is solely stuck on how to get this terrible loop of everyday life out of your system. For some reason, you feel that the answer is with Minju, this one girl you never had anything to do with. She looks like the epitome, the greatest victim of the problem. It's time you do something for real, with a proper plan.
âHey,â you approach her again, as the rest of your classmates fall into their usual, loud chaos.
âHey,â Minju responds. It scares you how she has the same tone as yesterday. Maybe she hasnât had enough sleep and rushes to school just for attendance. Her hair has also not been washed, itâs even dirtier and messier now. She kind of reminds you of a lone wolf, abandoned by everyone.Â
âUhm, I donât know how to say this and maybe Iâll sound stupid, butââ
You grab yourself a chair and sit down in front of Minjuâs table. Finally, she is bestowing you with a look over her folded arms.
ââI noticed, like, how do I put it, everything is so repetitive and bland, itâs really bugging me.â
âYou think so?â she whispers dryly.Â
âOf course! Everyone is saying the same stuff, does the same stuff, likeâjust look at Yena! She is always whining. And Jimin is always teasing Jun. And youâre always sleeping. Iâm sorry, itâs just bothering me.â
You end your small tantrum with a sigh and hope that none of the mentioned took notice of it. It felt good letting off this steam, you were really pent up until now. However, you doubt that it was the right way to start a conversation with someone who is basically a stranger.Â
To your surprise, Minju starts to sit upright and plug some of her long strands behind her cute ear. Her eyes scrutinize you while her face remains blank, unamused. Then she bluntly speaks, almost at a normal volume:
âUh-huh, and why are you telling me this?â
âBecause I want to do something I have surely never done. Something that will end this vicious circle at least for a day, maybe two.â
âYou can do that on your own. Why do you need me for that?â
âW-well, I think maybe it could be something interesting for you too.â
Minju still doesnât look convinced. Who could blame her? The way you come out of nowhere and act like a slightly crazy person wouldn't convince most people to take action. In panic you stare at the ground to your left, to your right, trying to find some words to explain yourself, beforeâ
âHmph, you are weird. Would it be enough if we met on the weekend?â
You look at Minju in surprise. Did she just suggest that? The whisper, the calm, dry voice with not too much enthusiasm couldnât be anyone else.
âI think we never saw each other on a non-school day, so why donât we just meet at the gate?â
âI knew you would understand me!â you shout triumphantly and almost jump from your chair, âWe can meet at the gate and see where the day leads us. You okay with that, Minju-ah?â
Minju nods slowly and a faint smile appears on her adorable cheeks. You find it amazing how she still looks so pretty, even with her lack of make-up and wild hair. She could look superbly stunning with just a bit more care put towards her face, hair and body. But you wonât judge her on that. Maybe she just had a bad day. Maybe she never cared about stuff like this in general.
âGreat, then weâll see each other the day after tomorrow?â
âOkay.â
#
Tap. Tap. Tap. The tip of your blue and gray shoes hit the paved ground in front of the closed gate. After all these years, itâs the first time you notice how smooth the black rocks beneath you are. All the footwear scratching over them for all those years polished them to the point where faint sunlight gets reflected.Â
Itâs been quite a while since you woke up this excited. Your alarm went off at nine and with an unbridled excitement and unwarranted, but great expectation, you filled your backpack. Water, snacks, spare clothes, small games, more snacksâitâs like you prepared for a children's birthday party, sleepover included.Â
And like a child you stormed out of the house, early enough to not annoy your parents and take a very different route. You wandered through small alleyes, the smell of rain still oozing from the gray asphalt and beige walls. Although you enjoyed it, you wished for the sun to come outârain, rain, go awayâyou are literally a child and for today, that is okay.
Your wish came true. The light gray of the clouds was no match for the sun and small patches of sky blue pop up with every minute you wait. Now, itâs only Minju who is missing. The catalyst for why you finally got over the hump and out of the lulling everyday life. Sheâll be here any minute. Sheâs never been late for school, something she obviously isnât very fond of, so she wonât be late for this either.Â
But why her? Why did it take her for you to do something like this? There is a weekend for your taking every five school days. You couldâve just ran out or called a friend and do anything but mold in your room for endless hours. It might be the thrill of something absurd, new, unnecessary but necessary. Your questions come to a halt when you hear footsteps.
You look up to see all the perfect variations of brown. Minju wears a wool dress with a stylish checkered pattern in various dirty colors, orange, green but mainly brown. Underneath the dress, a tight, cozy looking turtle neck wraps around her torso and arms in the color of chocolate chip cookies. Across her chest is the leather sling of her almost black handbag. Above all however, is the brown of her hair. Not greasy and unwashed as the days before, but smooth and combed, tugged behind her ear it hides her shoulders. Brunette excellence that delights your heart.
She stops before you. With an awkward sway, she avoids looking at you. The way her lips press together looks adorable, you canât help but smile and disrupt the silence.
âHello, Minju! So awesome that you could make it.â
âHe-hey,â she waves at you instead of keeping eye contact for long. This seems to not be her cup of tea, but you wonât let your mood get dampened. She will hopefully get into it.
âI had a lot of ideas of what we could do,â you begin and straighten your back. Even like this, you arenât that much taller than the girl wearing her, of course, brown shoes, âBut first, I wanted to know what you think. What are you feeling today?â
âWhat I feel?â
Her eyes force your attention on them. Now that you can look into them mostly undisrupted with better lighting than in the classroom, you see a certain dullness, listlessness, even lifelessness in them. It takes you out of your childish dreams, the naivete that builds up. You take a step closer towards her. She tenses up.
âI-I just mean, what you felt like doing today. If youâre not feeling well or anything, thatâs fine. A-are youââ
âNo, no, itâs okay.â
She laughs it off with a wave of her soft hands and takes a step back. You can feel that something is off. Maybe you got her on a bad day. Or maybe even in a bad time, judging from how she looked throughout the week. Itâs not the perfect day to make her jump over some mental barriers. Or maybe, this is the perfect day after all. The day to wake up, to get life back into your veins, to feel it again.Â
You smile at her and scratch the back of your head.
âOkay then. Do you have anything in mind? Your dress looks unfit for a round of rugby, so I guessâŚâ
âWait, what?â Minju furrows her eyebrows, but then falls into laughter when she sees your playful smirk, âOh, for a second I thought!â
You see her laughing face for just a split second before she hides it behind her hand. Itâs cute, heartwarming even and you instinctively join her. In this moment, where all tension is lost in a simple joke, you forget that this is the first time you heard Minju laugh. In your presence, sheâs never been this loud and bright before.Â
Itâs like the clouds open just a tad bit moreâthe same way your relationship might open up a bit more on this simple day.
âI canât believe you thought that, Minju-ah. How should I fit a rugby ball and a dozen other players in this backpack?â you playfully mock her and she gets shy, while still giggling.
âI dunno, Iâm sorry. That was just dumb.â
âNuh-uh, youâre fun. I might not have a ball inside here, but I have this.â
You open up one of the many zippers and pull out two candy bars. The see-through plastic holds sweet caramel and toffee wrapped in chocolate. Sweetness wrapped in brown goodnessâjust like Minju, but you wonât make that joke. This is not a date with flirts but a rebellion against dullness. You hand one of the bars to Minju. Her eyes light up.
âWhat? I love those! How did you know?â
âI guess Iâm good at guessing, I guess.â
âTs, you sound like a child,â Minju mockingly replies, but opens the plastic wrap with child-like anticipation and urgency. You chuckle and observe how this sleepy head became lifely with just some candy.Â
âIâm okay with being a child. We can go to the playground if you want.â
You take the first steps downtown and Minju follows you, her full mouth protesting your decision.Â
âNo, stop. I, yum, made up my mind.â
âYou always speak with your mouth full?â
âN-no. Shush, letâs go grab something. I want, hm, a smoothie. Or ice cream.â
You smile that she finally found something, but you canât stop teasing the cutie that finally caught up to you.
âAnd then we go to the playground?â
A hit on your shoulder.
âYah! Iâll make up my mind, pabo.â
#
âOh man, that was something,â you sigh, taking off the 3D-glasses. From smoothies and ice cream, you somehow got out of her that she wanted to go watch a 3D-movie at the other part of town. It still took more convincing from you until she told you which movie it was. Although itâs certainly not your type of film, you still went with her.Â
âIt was so good! When I thought I got all the clues, they still tricked me.âÂ
Minju has her fingers cutely formed into a fist as you too walk out of the theater and onto the street. Although itâs not yet completely dark, you feel the evening coming and this fun day ending. As Minju still goes on about how intriguing the case was and how she thought the gardener was the murderer, you tap her shoulder.
âI still donât get why this is a 3D-movie. Like, why? Why have these effects for a detective movie?â
âYouâre a pabo. Itâs to pick up on the clues better! Ts, I told you that.â
âWell, maybe Iâm just too dumb for these movies,â you rub the back of your neck and watch the annoyed, but finally fully alive Minju become flustered. She pouts and pulls at your arm.
âI-I didnât mean it like that. I hope you still liked it, Iâm sorry.â
âMinju-ah, Iâm playing around! Looks like youâre the pabo.â
It baffles you. How can this girl look even cuter, with this shocked, angry, playfully fun expression on her fairy-like features? You feel your heart filled with warmth. Your mind is freed at the sight of Minju and at the thought of how the two of you got out of this loop. Nothing is the same as before.Â
âItâs getting late,â you say and take a quick look at your phone to confirm the time, âShould I accompany you home? It might be dark before you get there.â
They fall. Minjuâs bright eyes sink. The glow in them gets tainted by the dullness from before; but also pain. Pain thatâs also in her weak smile that she canât keep upright for long. Minju frowns and looks to the side, away from you. Suddenly, itâs all reset. Back to the beginning. You canât let that happen.
âItâs of course fine if you want to go alone. O-or I could call your mum andâŚâ
Minju fidgets, her delicate hand tightly wrapped around the leather of her handbagâs sling. She stares onto the tip of her feet. She looks cold, lost, like a forgotten child in the midst of an endless crowd of people. Things turn dark, not only because the clouds once again hide the sun, but also because Minjuâs voice isnât filled with excitement, but downright mourning.
âMum, no. No, itâs okay. Thank you, but Iâll go home on my own.â
âAre you sure? Is there, is there some way I can help?â
âI thinkââ
Minju hesitates. Her fingers fiddle with her dress, then with each other, before she stuffs them into her pocket. She gives you an apologetic look, one that tries to convince you that there is nothing to hide and that things are just the way they are. Your heart tells you to not play along. There is something thatâs really hurting her. So bad that it turns her back to the Minju, sleeping through life and all it has to offer. You have to lift the veil, youâ
ââI should go on my own. Itâs not that far, nothing will happen, hm.â
âOkay, uhm, was nice though.â
Your tongue betrays you. This is not what you want. It might be a smooth way to get out of the awkwardness, but it doesnât get you closer to the problem. Something hurts her and you want to know it.Â
âYeah, it was. Guess Iâll see you in school.â
The last chance, but you wonât take it. No reason to stir up conflict. The day was good, it got you two closer and things inevitably changed. Why risk it?
âYeah. Have a great Sunday, Minju.â
âYou too. Bye.â
She gets a hand out and gives a small wave. A small wave, a small smile, but itâs all rushed and it's painful to look at. The beauty wrapped in all the chocolate colors turns around and quickly steps out of your reach. The reach of your hands, of your eyes, of your voice.Â
âBye.â
#
Sunday went by quickly as it always does and Monday greets you with the usual. Not the kind of usual you can always return to. The restaurant with your favorite vibe, the table in the hidden corner, the always comforting food. This 'usual' is what you're looking for, not the same old gray in the sky, same old cracks in the walls, same old chatter in the classroom. It's jarring.Â
It makes you appreciate your new friend more. Minju is not quite usual today. She doesnât look gloomy, her silky, clean hair is crested with a cute, pink barrette and she greets you with a smile and a wave. The usually dark bags below her eyes are partially hidden by a simple, yet effective touch of make-up. Minjuâs beauty shines through her imperfections and you find yourself slightly blushing at the sight.
âHey,â you say with a small smile and carefully place your elbows on her desk.
âHey,â Minju responds, backing off a tiny bit. She reaches for her notebook. Itâs blue, mostly tattered and the pages are empty. âOh no,â she mouths, eyes still drawn to her bag below.
âAre you alright? Need something?â
âI⌠I think I forgot my pencil case,â she whispers shyly and tries to hide her face.Â
âOh, I can give you one of mine.â
Hand her the pen and she bows thankfully. You both smile at each other a final time, before the teacher enters the room. You get ready to shuffle your chair back to your desk, but Minjuâs soft voice makes you freeze in place. Itâs like she opens the gate to new possibilities with just a couple of words.
âI hope, uhm, that you had a nice Sunday.â
âTh-thanks, Minju, I hope you did⌠too.â
#
Tuesday rolls around, and you couldnât care less about the mundane things. You are excited to go to school, to meet Minju. You are excited about the brewing suspicions of your friends, which takes them out of their usual character a bit and makes the bickering interesting. With all this excitement, you swing open the door to the classroom. Everything, everyone is in order. Their eyes are on you as the door crashes against the wall with a loud boom. Your eyes are on Minjuâs seat. Itâs empty.
âEy! Watch out!â Chaewon yells at you, as she tightly holds Yenaâs hands. The duck-like girl quivers in fear. You must have scared her quite a lot. Tears pool in her eyes and you give her an apologetic bow.
âIâm sorry you two, I should have been more careful. Do you by any chance know where Minju is?â
Both girls shake their heads and Chaewon continues to glare at you, like she wants to stab you with a poison-filled syringe. Not that you would care. Minju not being here is a far greater concern to your mood. You fear that the day might immediately fall into the same rhythm, so you hold onto the hope that she is just late and will walk through the door at any moment. Maybe she will have the same enthusiasm as you did.
But it doesnât happen. Not on Tuesday, not on Wednesday. The clouds do not part for two days. To say that it dampens your mood would be an understatement. Worry and annoyance have a hold on your thoughts, what teachers, parents, friends say is a nuisance and mostly forgotten. In some moments, it feels like a foul stench lingers around the campus. It gets even worse when, out of spite, you walk the same route you and Minju took a couple of days ago.Â
You get angry at every stop, but this anger is short-lived and when you stand in front of the cinema, it turns to sadness. The kind of sadness that twists your stomach and leaves you speechless at its intensity. If only you knew where Minju lives or what her phone number was. Those irrational worries that brew in your mind could just be gone. They range from her just being ill with a cold to something terrible has happened with her mother. You clearly remember how quickly all her joy and hype faded when you just mentioned the word âmumâ.Â
Shake your head and head home. Tomorrow, Minju might just be back and if not, youâll do everything in your power to confirm that she is alright. On Friday, you will ask her to meet again, and visit the park. You want to ask her a lot of questions and then, everything will solve itself.Â
#
You breathe a sigh of relief when Minju is in her seat early Thursday morning. Most of your classmates are probably still riding the bus or just waking up, depending on how they usually go about their day, so itâs just you two and Eunbi in the far corner. She studies geometry with her black headphones on. It basically feels like you're alone with Minju.Â
You cheerfully walk up to her, hand raised for a greeting. When you take a closer look at the girl however, you see her hair in a worse mess than ever before. Itâs like someone took a pair of scissors and cut strands off at random spots. The hazelnut chaos spreads over her cheeks and what might look like bad bangs partially covers her eyes. Dark, tiny, motionless, except there is something flickering in them with unbridled ferocity. Minjuâs pale skin is exceptionally pale against the large, black bags below her eyes. Her lips are dry and purple.
âMinju, are you alright?â you carefully ask and lower your hand. Your delighted mood is gone, dead, like the look on Minjuâs face and her sorry posture. She looks frozen to the chair, only her knees shake as if she were in the arctic desert.Â
âIâm cold,â she answers, her voice tiny, dry. She coffs and you almost leap to help her. But you are not there yet. There is still no proper friendship where you can just cross the boundary and touch her.Â
âCan I help you with that? I can turn up the heater⌠or give you my jacket.â
You take off your jacket and Minju remains motionless. Her hands are in her lap, one resting on the other, the nails painted awfully messy. Her gaze mostly stays on them.Â
âNo need, Iâm just cold.â
Minju looks like she is falling, continuously, into an endless void. Itâs darker than her eyes as they close and she starts to cry. However, there is no sob to hear or tears to catch. Minju just cries, in her own way and you feel powerless to step in. You canât catch her, something is physically pulling you back. Your heart may mourn at the sight, but what is there to do, to say, to make things better?
âC-can I ask what happened? You looked so lively a couple of days ago, and nowââ
Your heart spoke those words. They are like a scream to evoke some reaction out of her, but Minju doesnât stop the sorrow overtaking her more and more. You groan in sad frustration. This sight hurts you, you canât deal with it. You gently place your jacket on her desk and see her looking at it for a second.Â
âIâm sorry, I have no right to justââ You pause and ponder on a better choice of words, âIâll be at my seat. If you need anything, Iâm right there.â
Soon, all your other classmates stream into the room and take their usual positions. None of them seem to acknowledge Minju. For them, she is a figure in the background, one that might have changed a bit and even missed a couple of days, but they remain the same. Illness with two days absence plus a new âhaircutâ? Surely you wouldnât notice it on a random classmate.Â
At the start of the first lesson, your very picky and meticulous math teacher immediately notices your jacket on Minjuâs table. You know his eyes are locked in on it and he will call Minju out any second now. But then he hesitates, takes a closer look at the disheveled girl, and looks through the class register. His face contorts like he is in pain. This is very unlike him, and it wouldâve intrigued you more if it werenât for the gloomy feeling in your heart.
âOkay everyone, letâs start⌠start with, uhm. Chaewon, please tell the class what we did last lesson.â
The teacher continues to be out of sync with how he would normally act. At the end of the lesson, he calls Minju upfront. Now youâre the one frozen on the seat and watch helplessly as he calmly and concerningly speaks to her. You canât hear him this far back, and the question is, if Minju is able to pick up any of it. She looks down at the tip of her shoes and does not react at all.Â
This goes on for the entire day. You canât bear it anymore. With a final look over your shoulder, you dart out of the classroom quickly. The image in your brain is still the same: a helpless, frozen Minju, a withering girl with an unhearable cry. You notice the only difference a little bit too late, as it is barely noticeable.
Minjuâs tender cheeks have the wet trails of tears.
#
Once again, Minju is not at school. This occurrence is so unusual, everyone is acting out of character. Different rumors shoot through the classroom, and they all negate each other. No one has a clue of what is happening, but they all do have an opinion. Chaeyoung in the last row says that she is probably just late, while Chan strongly believes that she is still sick and that the math teacher told her to stay home for longer. Julia has the harshest opinion though.
âI bet she is fully embracing her lazy life. She will either fail or drop out soon. Thatâs how it goes.â
You cover your ears. Everyone spouts nonsense, although they didnât even talk to her yesterday. How can they be so sure? What do they know about her? Nothing. It frustrates you. The only people not involved in this except for you are Jimin, who stands by your side against these unnecessary allegations, and Chaewon and Yena. The two girls are entangled in a tight embrace and their heads are probably in a very different place right now.
Suddenly, the door bursts open. Your home room teacher and the principal walk in, both wearing a very serious expression on their faces. The rowdy class shuts up instantaneously. As if connected by one strand of nerves, everyoneâs backs straighten. A gut wrenching tension fills the room, as the home room teacher sighs deeply and leans onto the front desk.
âIâthis, this is hard. Excuse me, I need a second,â he says and stumbles a step forward. He is clearly not drunk, but his mind is dizzy with some heavy burden. The principal walks next to him and guides him towards a chair. Then he takes his glasses off, all fingers in a light tremble. You notice cold sweat all over his features. Itâs contagious and creeps up your back.
âClass, I need you to stay strong, okay?â he begins and rubs the inside of his eyes, âI hate that I have to say this, but I hate even more that it happened. This morning, your classmate Kim Minju wasââ
The principal pauses. Itâs not long enough to make a large difference in his sentence, but itâs so big, you can hear the rapid pace of your heartbeat. Itâs in your chest, your ear, your thumb. The burning red liquid rushes through your body. It meets the cold feeling of the goosebump and cold sweat on your skin, and this fusion almost makes you throw up. Your body gets torn to shreds, your mind is clouded. All in one pause that doesnât really exist.
ââfound dead in her home. She, she took her own life.â
In one moment, reality couldnât be more surreal yet realistic. The stark contrast between a fragile dream and concrete reality resonates with everyone. It cannot be true, but it is. This is where they start with denial and move all the steps up to acceptance. But how can you accept the unacceptable? The voices of your classmates are background noise, but they are also all that is left. Air, matter, gravity, light, life, they all do not exist. Only the sound of gasps, cries and everything in between.
Then there is you, in pale freefall, just like the snowflakes outside. No one said it was going to snow today, yet it does. No one said Minju would kill herself today, yet she did. No one said deal with it, yet you do. You deal with it. Life goes on.
You throw your head forward and vomit over your desk. A lie knocks on your brain, on your stomach, and you vomit again. Sadly, you donât have a reflex that will expel the disgusting shield of cold indifference out of your head. You know you will stop caring but you want to suffer. You want to hold on to Minju, the beautiful, quiet girl in class that was never supposed to walk down this dark aisle.Â
She never wanted to die. No one does.Â
But why?
Why?
Isnât life beautiful?
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
âYouâre such an asshole at times, I swear to God.â
Yena giggles as her head rests on your shoulder. Her bare hand rubs over your sweaty, equally bare pecs. These muscles were forged in the nearby gym and Yena has them all to herself. Itâs basically an equivalent exchange, because Yena is no slouch when it comes to taking care of her own body. Abs and a thin waist, they look the best when sheâs fully nude. And nude she surely is. Youâre each other's trophies.
âAm I?â you ask and blow out the smoke of your cigarette. You told her a story about something, something you donât care to remember. What or whoever it might have been about probably lost and you won. Such is life. You carefully put an arm around Yena and look at the orange-gray glow of your cigarette. Your girlfriend pouts.
âBabe, be real with me for a second.â
âIâm real every second, Yena, I donât ever lie.â
âBabe, Iâm serious here!â
Yena turns to you. Her stern eyes pin you to the backboard of the bed. This is no time to joke. You hastily put the glowing stick in the ashtray and the two used condoms out of harm's way. Yena then puts her arm on your nape and you have a hard time not staring at her heaving bosom but instead at the duck-like lips that pout cutely.
âDo you really love me?â she asks quietly.
âOh, I see how it is,â you respond with a relieved sigh. Poke both her cheeks as you usually do in these types of situations. Yenaâs tension comes out through her nose like the air of a balloon.Â
âYou are the hottest, prettiest, most desirable and most likable girl in the classâno, in the entire school.â
âBabe,â Yena blushes,âthose were too many. Youâre supposed to only list three things.â
âHuh? But what if I wanted to list more? Cuz itâs true.â
âForget it,â she waves off, still blushing. âAm I though? What about Yuri or Eunbi?â
âOkay, if you want me to list all of them,â you say, slightly annoyed, but you clear your throat regardless. âYuri is too crazy and not even close to your body, Eunbi is probably already married, also aloof, Sakura is gay, Hyewon is gayââ
âWait, Hyewon likes girls?âÂ
âDonât tell me you didnât notice. Seriously, the way she stares at Yuri all the time. Anyways, she is gay. Hitomi is not my type cause sheâs too small, Chaewon is your best friend and not as pretty as youââ
âBut she is so pretty!â
âJeez, Yena, weâll never finish it like this. Who did I forget?â
Both you and Yena ponder for a second, but if youâre quite honest, you do not want this argument to continue. You surely forgot a couple of girls in your class, but none of them can match Yena. She should know that, even if you donât throw the L-word around a lot. When you do it, itâs only towards her.
âThere is Minju,â Yena says in a moment of enlightenment.
âWho?â you respond. Donât bother with the jarring task to remember who this might be.
âThe quiet girl that sits in the middle of the classroom. With long, brown hair, itâs literally super long, I bet she never cuts and rarely washes it.â
âOh I see. Yeah, no. Who the fuck cares about Minju?â
You turn to the side to cough. Yenaâs face still doesnât look amused so you do the one thing that will surely shut her up. Cup her cheeks in your strong hand and kiss her on the ducky lips. Add a simple âI love youâ, and she relaxes. Her slender, naked body topples atop of yours. Finally, itâs time to go to sleep.
#
You wake up to the sound of a bell ringing. History class is over, and as per usual, you took a nice long nap at the end of it. Or throughout it. History has always been boring to you. Old guys did some things sometime in the past, wow, so impressive. It would only be a slight nuisance, but Yoongi and Eunbi always have to act smart about it. As if it actually mattered.Â
Can they touch the past, like you can touch Yenaâs midriff right now? Surely not. The young woman squeals at your touch and you quickly pull her onto your lap. Thank God she cares as little about any dress codes as you. Even on these mild spring days she already wears clothes exposing, no, downright flexing her abs to your classmates. They see and they drool, but the only one allowed to touch them is you.
âYou look sleepy, babe,â Yena says as she cups your face to inspect it.Â
âHistory, Yena, history,â you respond and force your tiny eyes wide open. Five more minutes until the next teacher arrives. Might as well enjoy the time by showing off your best trophy. Yena is better than the push-up and benchpress records, not only because she is great in bed, but also because she actually makes other people jealous.Â
Lift her onto your lap and give her a loud, proud and obvious hickey on her exposed neck. Yena holds onto your shoulders and holds her breath as if she would burst into moans and groans at any moment. After your deed is done, you triumphantly turn your head around. Scan the class, because someone is always looking. They canât help themselves. Poor bastards.
âLook at her,â Yena whispers. She must be doing the same thing.
âWho?â you respond, unable to find the girl Yena alluded to.
âMinju, the one with the long, messy hair, right in the middle.â
There she is, barely three meters away from you, yet in a different realm of existence. Brown eyes lock onto yours, though you canât make out what emotion they convey. Envy? Disgust? Pity? Well, the last two can easily be attributed to her. Minjuâs entire look is appalling. Greasy hair that sticks together in clumps, dirty clothes that probably smell rancid, and an expression that lacks any kind of care or passion. Truly pitiful.
âWhat are you looking at, huh?â you bark at Minju. The entire class goes silent. They donât have to hide their gazes anymore. They are only bystanders, witnesses to a tension that you know all too well. This is power, this is the way to victory. You will get your way.
Minju simply shakes her head. She rests her head on her crossed arms and goes back to her routine of dozing, as if nothing has happened. Her attitude of indifference is something you did not expect. You cannot allow such disrespectfulness.Â
âGet off,â you whisper to Yena, the anger in your voice not directed at her, but she still follows your command immediately. Slow strides bring you next to Minjuâs desk, who senses your presence. She turns her sleepy head towards you and looks up, the same look in her dark orbs, darker than even the greasiest parts of her hair. You clear your throat in annoyance.
âI asked you a question, didnât I?
âCare to answer it?â
Minju does not budge. She remains frozen below you, but itâs not in the way you want her to be frozen. She should be in fear, trembling, yet not moving at all, but your words, your rough tone does not seem to affect her.
âLemme ask you again: Why were you lookinâ at us?
âI donât care which way you swing, okay? Just letting you know there is nothing to get from us. Yena is mine, okay?
âOkay?â
Youâre basically shouting at this point. Minju finally moves to put her hands up as a shield. You did not intend to punch her, not even a fist of yours is ready to strike. Itâs a relief that your words can still evoke something from her. In a tiny voice that mirrors mice more than humans, Minju answers.
âO-okay. I didnât me-mean to. Sorry.â
âYou didnât mean to what?â you growl back, voice dripping dissatisfaction from her vague response.
âMa-make you envious.â
Pin the palm of her hand to the table below. Minju clearly lacks a quick reaction time. She only starts to gasp when the nail of your thumb drills into her sweaty hand, the pale skin growing paler, then white, and finally red. Minju hisses, but only you can hear the words.
âStop, please.â
âGet lost.â
You leave her be, but not before giving her an angry stare. Behind the helter-skelter of her curtain-like hair, her eyes receive your wrath like a well-deserved punch. Minju drops back into the back of her chair and holds her palm with her other palm. She is reeling like a beaten down boxer.Â
âIâd congratulate you,â Yena snarks when you return to her. âBut she is just a girl, so no respect.â
âI can never let my guard down. Not in front of anyone. Not when itâs about you,â you hum as the usual noise of chatter and laughs returns to the class. A surge of fire fills your chest, your lungs, like youâre a dragon breathing flames of destruction. The feeling of power, of being the strongest, the one who is not reckless enough to let his guard down around the seemingly weak.
If Minju really likes Yenaâ
âI cannot allow her to take your heart.â
âShut it babe, you know I only like guys,â Yena giggles and playfully pushes your shoulder. âWhat am I saying? I only like you.â
Then you kiss her. A bit too passionate for a setting like this, but not passionate enough to still your hunger for more. More of Yena, but also more of this control. No one else can have her, not even a piece of her.Â
#
Damp concrete, a preferable alternative to the deep mud and grass of the nearby forest. You jog with intensity and focus, conquering the streets of your neighborhood. Usually you'd be the king of the trees, sucking in the fresh forest air around you while on the way to the gym, but today you need to take a detour.Â
It's a welcome change if you're honest, especially because the lousy weather keeps prying eyes away. No one to interfere with you and your in-ears, the loud music blasting through the cords as you turn corner after corner until your heels come to a screeching halt on the fine gravel in Rainbow Street.Â
A girl sits on the sidewalk of this street with its very unfitting name. Worn down buildings in a tiny, ugly array of gray and brown shades sit right next to each other. They are a stain in this otherwise genuinely pretty part of town, Rainbow Street my ass, such a tiny street with all the human filth in one spotâand for some reason, this girl decided to sit here, her butt probably sore from the gravel poking it.
"Looks uncomfortable," you say down to the stranger and pull out one of your in-ears. She doesnât move her head out from in between her knees. Hell, in this posture she is certainly developing back problems. With wind blowing into the sleeves of her loose t-shirt, sheâll catch a cold first though.Â
âItâs fine,â she whispers in a low voice, still firmly staring at the ground as if your comment came with the wind and just passed by. Give her a weak, confused smile in pity. Usually, youâd not bat an eye at something like this. This girl probably has a house, where she doesnât have to freeze and she probably also has water and soap to clean her dirty hair, so why bother with pity?
âIs it though?â you say with raised eyebrows. âYou sit on the ground like a pile of misery and wait for the next wave of clouds for what? To let the rain wash your hair?â
You start to laugh at your own joke, which got the girl to finally move a muscle. Slowly she turns towards you and lifts her head even slower, like it hasnât been lifted in a hundred centuries. Your laughter fades as you stare into grim, miserable eyes which stare back in hurt, agony even.Â
âOh, itâs you,â you say and move to put your in-ears back in. âNo business with you.â
âYouâre so mean,â Minju states, her real emotions held behind the blunt statement. âWhy?â
âGet lost, Minju. Thatâs why.â
You jog off, further down the street to quickly reach the gym. Never in your life have you felt the rising feeling of compassion switch to coldheartedness so quickly. For a second you felt like a hero that could save this cute puppy, but in the next, you realized that it actually was the disgusting, wretched Minju who had to flaunt the fact that she clearly lost control over her life.
She doesnât even bother to take a shower or pretend to have any character. No wonder sheâll continue to be nothing but a loser in school.
#
During your workout, you thought more about the wrong classmate than about the right one. Minju, being the wrong one, has no reason occupying the free spaces in your head. Youâd much rather think about Yena, the right classmate, the one with incredible charm and wit. Yena is respected, Yena is envied, Yena is your girlfriend and absolutely amazing. Minju is none of that.
Enraged about Minjuâs sulking expression popping up in front of your inner eye again, you throw down the dumbbells. Someoneâs shouting in anger, others stare. Enough workout for today, you need a distraction. A distraction served by the right classmate.
âYena,â you blurt into your phoneâs speaker the second your girlfriend picks up. âIâll be at your place in 30 minutes, you down?â
âOh my~â she responds and you can already feel her turn in her bed in excitement. âI donât know, donât really like sweaty boys coming into my room~â
âSince when did I come into your room sweaty?âÂ
âIâll make sure youâre gonna be sweaty, babe~â Yena whispers, voice sultry, dripping of lust like the sweat from your forehead and drool from your lips.Â
#
âBabe, promise me something.â
Yena fondles your hair and looks at you with anticipation. Itâs something serious again.
âAnything for you, Yena.â
Wrap your arm around her hip and look at her, relaxed, sweaty, just like she predicted.
âDonât, like, donât get me wrong, it wasnât terrible, but please, babe, donât go too hard on her. Sheâs a girl, you know?â
âWhat are you talking about?â
âMinju and what happened in class.â
You sigh and look away in annoyance. Pull out a cigarette from the back on the nightstand. Your hand recklessly pushes off packets of pills and condoms. Why am I shaking?
âI donât know what you mean,â you say and search for a lighter. âShe was annoying, right? And disrespectful. And I know that there are girls that like girls and that there are girls that might go crazy, especially over you. I know youâre smart Yena, so you get me, right? Itâs not like I beat her up or something.â
You stop yourself from falling deeper into an incoherent mess of bad explanations, but Yena is already side-eyeing you. At least she has a flame for the stick between your lips.
âYeah, you did not beat her, but you went too far. Raising your hand and pressing down hers? Babe, that was not necessary.â
âI did it for you, baby.â
These words roll from your tongue so easily. Whatever counterpoints Yena brings up, you can easily melt her with them, reducing any valid criticism to nothing but dust.
âBut, but sheâs a girlââ
âAnd youâre the only girl for me,â you hum and blow out the smoke before turning towards her. Yena clings onto you like a koala, pouty lips, trembling eyes, and best of all: still fully naked. Press a kiss onto her lips and she gasps.
âBabe, Iââ
âI love you, Yena.â
âMe, me too.â
âLetâs forget other, stupid girls and classes. Youâre the hottest thing since the sun and I want you now, baby.â
Take another drag and Yena basically jumps onto you. At this point, the two of you wonât have enough sleep for the classes tomorrow. Doesnât really get better than an extended weekend, youâll take it with glee. Throw away the cigarette, Yena throws away the blanket. I love truancy on a Friday.
#
âYou should really take your girl now!â
Chaewonâs shout is tiny compared to the ear-drum shattering bass of the large speakers right above your head. You look at her, confused, and point at your ears. Chaewon rolls her eyes and points at Yena, who is stumbling through the crowd, a large stain on her pink tube top and a half-empty bottle of vodka in her hand.Â
âBetter. Get. Her. Out!â
Her message is clear, and it should shame you that she is more worried about your girlfriend than you are, but youâre too used to it. Yena is magnetic to parties and the parties are magnetic to her. They need each other, and usually, you enjoy yourself alongside her, but for some reason, she went over the top today. Shot after shot after shot, down her throat until her dance moves became laughable.Â
âFuck, fine!â
Growl in annoyance to make Chaewon back off to her clique and drinks while you grab the wrist of your completely dazed girlfriend and drag her through the crowd. Your eyes are always at her back, her hips, her bottom. If any filthy bastard tries to touch her, you will tear off his hand and shove it down his trachea to make him regret not respecting you enough.
Outside the old barn at some outskirt of the city, Yena suddenly starts to run, bottle still in her hand, her feet faster than usual. She is an excellent sprinter, but for some reason, the alcohol pushes her to a sudden sprint. You can barely keep pace but soon catch up to her when Yena leans to a wall andâ
âYena, what are you doiâhey, are you okââ
âviolently vomits out the hard liquor and her last meal, some noodles and meatballs. You bunch up her hair and turn your head away in disgust. Yena pushes out more, the unbearable sound not seeming to end in forever, until finally, she gasps for air.
âSorry, sorry, babe, are youââ
âJeez, Yena,â you groan and scrunch your nose, unable to look at the pile of half-digested food without feeling your stomach tighten painfully. âJust sit down over there, and try not toâyou know?â
Unsure if she understood any of your words, you guide her to a nearby bench in front of the highest point of the wall. Except for the occasional breeze rustling the trees and Yenaâs heavy breaths, itâs eerily quiet. You scan the area attentively, no possible attacker will go unnoticed, not even the figure on the far end of the wall. Why would someone sit there and stare skywards? There are barely any stars tonight.
The person has spotted you and jumps off the wall. Youâd prepare to fight for your honor and Yenaâs safety, but then realize that the person is pretty small and frail. You pull out your phone and point the flashlight at the approaching figure. Dressed in a thin black jacket, itâs none other than Minju. Again.
âDid not expect you here,â you snark at her and point your flashlight closer to her face. âWhy the fuck are you here?â
âHey! Is-isnât that Min-Min-ju?â Yena bursts out in laughter and rises from her bench. âBest friends, best friendos!â
She steps towards her classmate in deep drunken delirium and tries to hug her. Instead she loses her footing way earlier and is about to crash face first onto the ground. Youâre unable to react on time, but Minju is. She catches Yenaâs fall, knees painfully digging into the gravel as both her arms catch your girlfriendsâ fall. Slowly, the two of them descend onto the ground.
You stand there frozen, as Minju reaches into the pocket of her dirty jeans and pulls out a surprisingly fresh tissue. She carefully wipes Yena's dirty mouth, not shying away from the abhorrent smell and delusional smile. Minju holds her still like a baby, and Yena giggles stupidly.Â
âGet off of her!â you shout at the top of your lungs and push Minju off at her shoulders. She jumps and lets go of Yena, who almost meets the ground below if it werenât for your arms on her back. In your rage you pick your girlfriend up so she stands and sways again. Her good mood fades as she struggles to stand upright, even with your arm around her.
âWhat is your game, huh? Stop trying to get her, sheâs mine,â you snarl down at Minju, who sits on the ground, her legs shivering in this mild spring night. She should have worn more than a skirt if this is still too cold for her, but for some reason, she still has this unusual determination in her eyes.Â
âCan I have this?â Minju asks, oblivious to your rant, pointing at the vodka bottle still firmly in Yenaâs grip. Your girlfriend doesnât react to the question and instead rests her head on your chest. She sniffles and weeps, tears soaking into the fabric of your polo shirt. Enraged, you kick a bunch of gravel onto Minjuâshe should get fucking buried beneath it.
âFuck off, really. Are you really that desperate? Pathetic.â
âI-Iâm not, I just want to drink.
âWould you let her drink it? Yena is already looking bad.â
Furiously reach for the bottle. This fucking bitch. Throw it as hard as you can against the wall. It bursts into a million shards, the vodka running down the gray surface. Someone opens a window.
âHey! You fucking rouges! Stop this shit or Iâll call the police!â
Youâd love to curse back at them, but Yena pulls at the hem of your shirt. You look at her teary eyes and sigh. This has been a big enough mess, no need to push the limits. Stare down at Minju, who still looks at the spot the bottle hit, her eyes big yet blurry. She looks absolutely miserable.
âBack off,â you say to her. âDonât come close to her again or youâll regret it.â
#
Monday comes and goes, the same goes for Tuesday. You might sit in class, attend each of the lessons, but youâre not listening to a word the teachers say. Nothing special, if youâre being honest. Youâd usually guide your hand on Yenaâs thigh and watch her smirk knowingly as she tries to pay attention. This would go on until she pinches you. She tries to keep up with school a lot more than you do, it shows in her grades.
Today however, she is not in the mood at all. She swats you away from the start, her gaze focused, yet angry, as she tries to copy the teachersâ scrabble from the blackboard. You roll your eyes, this is not uncommon either, especially during that time of the month.Â
You roll tiny pellets of paper, your ammo for today. Simple, childish entertainment, sure, but you canât wait to see the reaction of todayâs target. Minju had it coming for a while now. Usually youâd send the paper flying over her head at one of the stupid classmates behind her; now she is in full focus.
At least she would be if it werenât for her absence. You only notice it when you turn around to ready your first throw. She is not there. You drop the pellets to the ground, the only form of disarmament that actually feels like it. How can she not be there? The teacher didnât even notice, no one noticedâand no one cares, except you.
But why do you care? Students are absent all the time and a loser like Minju has all the reasons not to go. For some reason, it still grinds your gears, brings them to a screeching halt and makes you form a fist. Feel your own fingernails dig into the palm of your hands; this is getting a bit out of control.
Suddenly, Yenaâs hand is on your thigh, a surprising twist to your usual shenanigans, however, she is a lot less gentle. You spin around, meet her gaze for a second before the angry hum of your teacher finally gets your attention. She must have been standing there for quite a while, trying so hard to do her job by teaching you something, something, something.
âOh, so you are still among us,â she notes, looking up and down at you above the rim of her large, blue glasses. âI bet you now know all the details of the French Revolution.â
âOf course,â you respond, voice and posture as nonchalant as ever.
âDo you mind explaining the root causes that led to the Battle of Verdun?â
âActually, I do mind.â Let your smirk fade for something more sympathetic. âExcuse me, Miss Kang, I just have a terrible headache right now. I think I should leave for today.â
#
âYou should pay more attention in class. You canât always skip the lessons you donât like.â
You put your phone on speaker and throw it on the desk. On the other side is Yena, thoroughly annoyed from the moment you started this call. If youâre honest, her annoyance is getting on your nerves as well.
âBut I donât care,â you groan into your room, loud enough for your girlfriend to hear. âItâs really hard to pay attention when itâs just boring shit, day in, day out.â
âI know itâs boring to you, but you know how grades work and that they donât give a fuck about you not giving a fuck. At least try?â Yena tries to bargain, but you shatter her away.
âWhy the fuck are we still talking about school? I should be by your side right now. Should I come over?â
You smirk in lust, one hand opening a drawer with countless condoms in it. Let a pack of it glide through your fingers before you hear a loud sigh coming from Yena.
âNot today, no. I-itâs better we not.â
âHuh? Why is that?â
âLook, itâsâŚâ
A long pause. You almost slam the drawer shut, instead catching yourself at the last moment and only closing it carefully in deep regret. There is a deeply rooted hate in you for evasive behavior like this; itâs terrible in movies or TV shows, but when it is happening in real life, it makes you snap quickly.
âYenaââ
âI-itâs because⌠you wouldnât⌠look, we canât do it, okay?â
âOh. It is that time of the month, huh?
âEw.â
Another pause, this time a lot more tense.
âWhat did you just say?â Yena growls furiously. âOh my God, youâre such an asshole!â
âYena, Iââ Your words face an impenetrable wall, not even reaching your girlfriendâs ear.
âNo! Shut up! You insensitive idiot, I donât want to deal with you too right now. Fuck. Off!â
Yena hangs up. You smash the pack of condoms to the ground, a nerve struck by her entitlement. Oh well, thatâs how they are during this time. Sheâll calm down by Thursday, maybe Friday. You get to sleep, not willing to even see the school building tomorrow.
#
The tide doesnât turn on Thursday, but for some goddamn reason, you still went up to that school. For the first time since you two became a couple, she completely ignored you. Youâve been waiting at the gate for an extra twenty minutes, which meant less sleep for you, which means more annoyance, which leads toâ
âWatch your fucking step, bro!â you growl at a random student, who was unlucky enough to be in your walking lane. This has quickly turned to a day where everyone is better off either treating you like the irritable King Saul or disappearing all together. A day like a threat; it all hangs by a thread that could tear at any moment.Â
Your patience is thin and so is Minjuâs arm when she tries to pick something up. Too bad for her, she is right there when you try to pass her. With the grace of an elephant you pass by her, painfully squeeze her arm against the table and hear a whimper of pain.Â
âWatch it, Minju,â you bark at her and aggressively take your seat, eyes locked on her. Everything about her looks has gotten worse, her posture looks like itâs about to break, she could fold in half at any minute. Any hobo would have more dignity. âIâm not in the mood for your bullshit.â
âIâit hurts.â
You can hear from the tone of her voice, stiff and pained, that her arm really hurts. Minju wraps her fingers around it gently and looks at you, but all you see are her shimmering eyes with nothing left inside, dull and deadâand so absolutely infuriating.Â
âLike I said: not in the mood.â
Minju hisses. Blood spills from her elbow. The class has taken notice of the situation and looks on in awe as you stand up and in front of Minju. Someone is brave enough to sneak out, probably to get a teacher to check on Minju and the open wound, from which beads of blood slowly drip to the floor.
âWhat have you done?â Yena suddenly whispers from behind you, makes herself beside Minju and looks at that twig-like arm. You canât channel your focus on her for long, Minjuâs sniffles drive you to the edge of insanity.Â
âShe was in the way, okay?â you respond, not bothering to give Yena another second of your time. For this lone, fleeting moment of your life, you can get it all out on this loserâthat no one would miss, that no one seesâin all honesty, you might do her a favor with this. Now, she has everyoneâs attention. They can also see how dreadful she looks and smells and dresses.
Minju is undeserving of life in your eyesâand your eyes are on her cheek.
âMaybe you should apologize?!â
A smack heard around the world. You couldâve done it so many ways: grab your wrist and use both fists to hit her or maybe angle your elbow to hit her eye socket. Instead, you went straight for her cheek with your left, swung like a boxer and Minju flew off the chair. No way she couldâve dodged this.
Knocked down after one punch, but there is absolutely nothing satisfying about it. Itâs all just a mess. The puddle of Minju on the floor, swollen face, bloody mouth, lifeless limbs. The crowd of classmates that surround her, take photos, groan in shock, turn around to not vomit. The hands of Yena all over your face, push you back towards your seat, into the arms of a teacher, then an officer.Â
Her face tells you everything. Youâll never see her again, not as your girlfriend, not as your trophy. Those times have ended with this punch heard around the world. In the end, it wasnât worth it. The ambulance arrives and you hear the principal yelling, not the words, just that he is yelling. To your surprise, Minju never looked better than nowâwith that maniacal smile on her face as they carry her towards the ambulance.
#
To your surprise, youâre not in a jail cell on Friday, but in the principal's office again. The sound of that smack you gave Minju, it finally left your ears. Youâre not deaf anymore and ready to take a chance at redemption. Of course your fist could not have slipped, not with all the witnesses and the power behind it, but maybe a couple hours of anger management will save you from a trial or whatever punishment may await you.
The principal looks angry, you expected as much, but the anger is mixed with shock, speechlessness and disbelief. He must have seen a ghost last night, or God himself. Youâve never seen this serious man look so at a loss for words.Â
The door opens, a young woman and a police officer walk in. She is crying, he is stern. They both wait for the principal to say something, but he just points at you, unable to come up with words that could describe you. At this point, youâve had it with their hesitation, their overreaction.Â
âWhat am I doing here?â you ask, calmly, quietly, as not to show your slight annoyance.Â
âT-tell him, Miss Kwon, please.â The principalâs voice is about to crack, so he turns around, hands in his hair, while Miss Kwon sits down next to you. You slowly remember why she is here. She is the confidant teacher, the kind soul, the one who cares for everyone. Even the likes of Minju.
âMin-Minju came to the hospital yesterday,â she begins, her sniffles stopped temporarily when the officer hands her a handkerchief. âShe, she looked good. Yes, she did, sur-sur-surprisingly.â
For the first time, you look at Miss Kwon, but she averts you. Her posture is frozen. She continues to talk as if you arenât there.
âI remember, she smiled, said something about you. We shouldnât be angry, you showed it to her. I asked her, but she just smiled. The doctors said she was free to leave tonight, to-to-tonightââ
Miss Kwon bursts out in tears again, her ruined face hidden behind two fragile hands that try to keep up her composure. Behind her is still the officer, the only one to look at you in the entire room, and his dark orbs are full of disgust, like he hates your guts to the core.Â
âWe found her.â Miss Kwon tries everything in her power to get out another sentence, you feel your breath halt for a bit. âShe was, she was hanging from the ce-ceilingââ
Miss Kwon wails, but all you hear is a clock ticking in the background.Â
âWhat?â
âShe killed herself!â the principal screams and slams his fists into the desk.
âShe is dead, she is dead!
He slams down again and again, the floor starts to shake.
âDo you understand me!? Do you regret it!?
He hits it and you realizeâ
âDo you regret it!?
âheâd love to hit you like this, over and over and over again.Â
âDo you regret it!?â
Do you regret the single tear rolling down your cold face?
I canât take this anymore!
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
An interest in photography. A camera in your hand since youâve been four years old. A nice motive. Click.
Other hobbies donât come to mind. Friends are none of your concern. Just a camera and the desire to one day make money with it. The grades have to match that desire though. Click. Back to study.
You have pictures of all of your classmates. Most of them taken in secret. All of them show how they grew the last couple of years. Yena and Chawon have matured, fit and attractive. The main bully has gotten bigger, meaner. Heâd kill you if he ever found your pictures of Yena. They might not be inappropriate or unflattering, but he is scarily obsessive.
One motive catches your eye. While most of your classmates have bloomed to varying degrees, one gorgeous girl has withered. Your pictures of Minju portray her as increasingly less well-dressed, less combed, less happy. You can barely catch a glimpse of her full, uncovered face. It bothers you how she hides it.
No, itâs intriguing. You canât keep your eyes off of her. Starting someday in the middle of the school year, you canât stop looking over to her, sitting in the midst of the classroom while being outside everything and everyone.
Snapshots here and there with your phone and a small digital camera during class. They form a collection of this disheveled girl. Youâd much rather have something truly worth framing, taking with your best camera model. This will have to do for the time being, you tell yourself.
Suddenly, one day, you swear that she seems to light up more and more. It is not noticeable for anyone else, no classmates, no teachers â only you know that Kim Minju shines like a star today. Dozens of pictures fill the folder of your phone. Your heart starts to race a little bit. Maybe you could approach her, get more of this glow, hell, even a full portraitâ
Donât be ridiculous! A picture like this is impossible to ask for. You never asked anyone for such a favor, let alone someone whose connection to you only exists in your mind, in your fantasy.
Minju is not in class. A day ago she was glowing; now she is hiding. Call her a solar eclipse and you a solar flare the way you burst. The thrill is burning in your veins, blood rushing to your head as you head out, towards Rainbow Street, your most expensive camera hanging around your neck. You stop next to one of the many older, Japanese style houses. There is a police car. You quickly hide behind a tree across the small street, much more akin to a trafficless avenue.
Two officers walk out, with them a few more people, dressed in black with sorrowful and disturbed faces. Minju is not amongst them, even though this is certainly her address. They murmur and whisper and cry about something, someone â they will miss him, why did he do it, oh this poor girl. The officers drive off, the crowd disassembles.
Right before you decide to leave, the sliding door to the small building opens. A fence and a wall obstruct your view, so you decide to climb up a few branches, just a few feet off the ground to maybe catch a glimpse offâ
Minju lays in the doorframe, the sliding door not fully opened. Her head rests against the side, tears endlessly streaming down her face. Small sobs, contortions of her beautiful features, her hair everywhere yet at the same time, youâve never seen so much of her face.
Her features are flawless. This moment feels like a personal show for you. Instinctively, you reach for the camera and take a photo. Then climb higher, take another photo, then again. Minju does not notice you, but her crying intensifies once more. Her hands try to grab something. She wants to hold on so bad. Click. She gasps, cries out. Click. Words stuck in her throat, lips dry and torn. Click.
A hundred more clicks as you try not to overdose on this perfect moment. You have never felt such a rush. Minju is all yours, these pictures are your proof. Nobody gets to see her like this. Your heart races at the thought that this might be the only moment, your only chance to see this spectacle. A spectacle for you and to you only.
With a hint of disgust about yourself you walk home an hour later. Jerk off to her once because what is one more sin for today? The next day, she isnât at school, but you donât visit her either. The day after that she is back, but you can barely stand looking at her. In the one picture you take Minju looks her absolute worst, worse than her endless sobbing and crying and screeching and hair pulling.Â
You decide to go back to Rainbow Street the very next day, early in the morning. One hour from the start of school and you stand before the house again. You carefully glance at the sliding door. There is a gap, itâs open.
Your heart skips a beat. The thrill of just having a peak is enough to push you forward. Nobody is out here this early, nothing will disrupt your trespassing. Increasingly rapid breaths leave your nostrils as you put an eye to the gap. Itâs completely dark inside, just a faint white reflection hovering in the hallway catches your attention.
Your heart now races. Fingers push open fully the door that was ajar. The dim morning twilight floods the dark house and the faint white turns to a clearer picture. A simple gown, worn out, hangs from the ceiling.
A scream gets stuck in your throat as your knees give out and you collapse on the floor. Minjuâs eyes are wide open, dead and with yet to dry tears in them. Bruises on her neck, bruises on her hands, lips in a hideous purple. The noose barely holds her at the jaw, blood drips from the corners of her mouth.
You have never seen nor imagined something as utterly horrifying. Itâs like every negative emotion is flooding you for your sins. Sins you have committed, sins you still commit. You find Minju more beautiful than ever.
Beneath her dangling feet you find a letter in crude hand-writing.
To my dearest daughter
I know you wonât understand this but this is necessary. Ever since your mother passed, I havenât had a clear thought. My head is a mess, my mind isnât mine. But I have to take responsibility. I have to stop this voice, this feeling for you. You look so much like her, itâs too painful for me, I canât look at you. Please forgive me, Iâm going to her now. For your sake too.
Please forgive me, Minju. I love you.
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
âWhere is your dad?â
âOut. Somewhere. Drinking, probably.â
âItâs been a year, huh?â
âWhat are you doing here, anyways?â
âKeeping you company. Wanna play Mario Kart?â
âSo you just wanna game? Play something else then, at home.â
âHey, Minju, wait! We can do something else if you want. I just need some â excuse to stay with you, something to pass today.â
âBut I donât want to see anyone today.â
âNot even me?â
âDefinitely not you.â
âOkay, thatâs fine. But promise me that youâll call me if you need anything â and text me before bed.â
âWhat are you? My lover?â
âJust a worried friend.â
âIâm doing fine.â
âYou donât look like youâre fine. If you want to be alone, Iâll go now. But Iâm only a call away.â
âThanks. Bye.â
#
âMinju! Minju! Open the door, please, open it now!
âMinju! Why werenât you in school yesterday? Are you okay? Open the door!
âI swear Iâll kick it down right now!â
âHe is dead! He is dead, fucking dead and itâs my fault!â
âIâm coming in!â
âNo! Go away! Donât look at me, Iâm a demon, a devil! I killed him!â
âCalm down, please. Put, put that away.â
âNo!â
âPut the rope away, Minju. Please.â
ââŚâ
âOkay, now breathe. Slow, calm, steââ
âI donât want to breathe â I want to suffocate like he did.â
âMinju, please.â
âI killed my father. Iâm a murderer, I should die.â
âMinju, please. You need to breathe. No more sobbing, no more screams. Listen to my heartbeat.â
âI-I canât, I donât deserve to!â
âThen I will hold you closer, until youâve given up this awful plan, until your tears are dried, until you can tell me whyââ
ââŚâ
âMinju,
âI donât want to lose you.
âYouâre my best friend.â
âPlease, let me, let me go. Iâm a demon, a monster.â
âEven if you were, Iâd stick with you. Iâm not going to let you die tonight.â
ââŚâ
âWhat is in your hands?â
âMy reason.â
âYour final letter?â
âMy dads final letter.â
âWhatever is written in this â it does not mean that itâs your fault and that you need to die too. Minju, isnât life beautiful?â
âItâs fucking not. I canât do this anymore.â
âYouâre right to feel this way. But itâs the only life you got and even if this is just me being selfish, I want you to continue trying, continue living.â
Okay. Thank you.
Blue Hour
MALE READER x AN YUJIN (IVE) | ~9.4K WORDS | â GOLDEN HOUR âď¸Â ??? â
A/N: Huge thanks to @dotoliwrites for kindly beta reading this story and helping me improve my writing.
Tags and TW:Â fluff, smut, slice-of-life, romance, slowburn, mentions of addiction (smoking), relapse
You text her first.
This happens on a Wednesday, eleven days after the night market. You've seen her twice more since then â once for lunch near her studio, once when she dragged you to a bookshop in Mangwon that she swore had the best natural light in the city, which turned out to be true and also turned out to be an excuse to photograph you pretending to read while she shot through the shelves.
You: "You said one photo."
Yujin: "That was one photo. In twelve parts."
But you haven't texted first. She always initiates. The sunset photo, the trust me, the lunch invitation, the bookshop. She throws the line and you let yourself be caught, and neither of you has acknowledged the pattern because acknowledging it would mean naming it, and naming it would make it a thing, and you don't do things.
Except today.
It's 6:14 PM. You're on the rooftop. The sunset is doing something mediocre â hazy, washed out, the kind of sky that doesn't photograph well and doesn't inspire anything. The rooftop feels wrong without her on it. Not empty â wrong. Like a room with the furniture rearranged. Everything's still there but the geometry doesn't work anymore.
You take a picture with your phone. Frame it badly on purpose. Send it to her with:
You: Your standards are low if you think this light is good.
Three dots. Immediate.
Yujin: YOU NOTICED THE LIGHT!!!
Yujin: I'm winning
Yujin: I'm literally winning right now
Yujin: This is the best day of my life!
You put your phone down. Look at the ugly sunset. Something in your chest does the inconvenient thing again, except this time you donât file it under ignore. You just let it sit there, taking up space, warm and unclassified.
¡ ¡ âââââââ ¡đĽ¸Âˇ âââââââ ¡ ¡
Youâre smoking less.
You donât make a declaration about it. Thereâs no moment of decision, no ceremonial crushing of a final cigarette, no dramatic last drag. You just notice, one afternoon, that the pack on your desk has been there for three days and itâs still half full.
Three days. A pack used to last you one.
You pick one up, roll it between your fingers. Donât light it. Just hold it, the way youâve held thousands before â and your brain does what it always does when your hands are idle and a cigarette is involved. It goes back to the first one.
The first cigarette you ever finished was on a balcony in Mapo-gu, second year of university, stolen off someoneâs kitchen counter because the party was loud and you needed five minutes of quiet. She was out there drinking water. Said her name was Gaeul. Business administration major with a composure that didnât match her age and a face that held everything one layer deeper than the surface. She tried a drag of yours and made a face like youâd handed her a war crime. You talked for an hour. Three weeks later she was your girlfriend. Four years after that â both of you at the same company, her in HR, you in audit, the rooftop the only place your orbits still touched â she stood up there and told you she needed something you couldnât give, and you stood there and said nothing, and she left, and you let her. The girl from HR who might find you on the rooftop. Thatâs what you tell people now, when the rooftop comes up. Thatâs the version that fits in a sentence and doesnât require you to explain that she wasnât just HR. She was the reason you started smoking in the first place. The cigarette was still bright back then. First drag. Sharp and clean and almost good. You didnât know yet that the taste goes flat if you hold on long enough.
It went flat. After her, you smoked the way some people drink â not to feel something but to keep the hands busy and the mouth occupied and the empty hours from settling into a shape youâd have to look at. Pack a day. The rooftop every evening. The taste stopped registering around the same time the food did, around the same time the weather did, around the same time you stopped being a person who noticed things and became a person who just stood in places where things used to happen. The long middle stretch, where the cherry just glows and glows and nothing changes and the ash gets longer and you donât bother flicking it.
Then Rei. Expensive heels on your ugly rooftop. She kissed like a dare and left the country without saying goodbye, and she shouldâve been just another drag â the same burn, the same nothing â but she wasnât. She was the part where the heat finally reaches your fingers. Where the taste turns bitter enough that your body overrides the habit and you flinch. And the flinch wakes something up. Not a lot. Just enough to notice that youâve been holding onto something that stopped giving you anything a long time ago.
You look at the pack in the drawer. Half full. Cellophane still crisp.
Your mouth wants something else now. Something that doesnât taste like burning. You close the drawer.
¡ ¡ âââââââ ¡đĽ¸Âˇ âââââââ ¡ ¡
Her apartment is on the fourth floor of a building in Yeonnam-dong, and it looks exactly the way you expected â which is to say, it looks like a person actually lives there.
This is the first time youâve been here. She texted come over, I shot something incredible today, you have to see it, which you suspect is also code for I made too much jjigae. You said yes without the customary delay you usually impose between receiving an invitation and responding to it. That delay â the gap between someone asking and you answering â has been shrinking for weeks. Youâve noticed. You havenât done anything about it.
The apartment is bright. Small, but sheâs made it feel larger than it is through the strategic absence of clutter in the living areas and the absolute chaos of her work spaces. Photos are pinned everywhere â the walls, the fridge, the edge of the bathroom mirror (you see this through the open door and avert your eyes, which is ridiculous, because itâs a mirror, not a state secret). Camera gear lives on every surface. An older camera body sits on the bookshelf like a trophy. A stack of Instax prints, held together with a rubber band, sits next to a half-burned citrus candle on the coffee table.
It smells like her. Or like her apartment, which is the same thing at this point â citrus candle, kimchi jjigae on the stove, the specific warmth of a space that someone has made into a home instead of just a place to sleep.
Your apartment doesnât smell like anything. Youâve lived there for two years and it still looks like youâre between moves.
She hands you a cold drink from the fridge.
âYou keep these stocked now,â you say.
âI keep lots of things in my fridge.â
âYou bought this because I come over.â
She opens her mouth. Closes it. Points a spatula at you.
âAuditors shouldnât be allowed in peopleâs homes. Youâre a menace.â
She turns back to the stove. The jjigae is simmering, and she adjusts the heat, tastes from a spoon, adds something. Sheâs in a loose tank top and shorts, and from this angle â her standing at the stove, you sitting at the counter â you can see the line of her back, the way her shoulder blades move when she stirs, the strip of skin above her waistband where the tank top rides up.
You look at the strip of skin longer than is defensible.
She needs something from the shelf behind you. She doesnât ask you to move. Just reaches past you, one hand bracing on the counter beside your arm, her body pressing close enough that you feel the heat of her through the tank topâs thin fabric. Her hip brushes your side. Her shoulder is against your chest for a half-second. The gochugaru is right there â she couldâve asked you to pass it. She didnât.
Her fingers close around the container. She doesnât pull back immediately. Thereâs a beat â maybe a full second, maybe less â where sheâs in your space and neither of you acknowledges it, and the heat from the stove and the heat from her skin are the same temperature and your hand, resting on the counter, is close enough to her hip that youâd only have to move your thumb.
She grabs the gochugaru and steps back. Shakes some into the pot. Stirs.
âYouâre doing it again,â she says, not turning around.
âDoing what.â
âLooking at me like youâre auditing something.â
âI was looking at the photos.â
âMm-hm.â She glances over her shoulder. The look is unhurried. She doesnât smile, exactly â itâs more like the ghost of a smile, the knowledge of one, held at the corner of her mouth but not released. âThe photos are on the wall. Iâm at the stove. You were looking at the stove.â
She turns back to the jjigae. You look at the photos.
Her street work. The real stuff. Night markets, rain on windows, an old woman feeding pigeons in a park, a child asleep on a bus with his head against the glass. Every photo is a small act of attention. A declaration that this moment, this person, this slant of light through a bus window was worth stopping for.
You look at them for a long time. Longer than youâve looked at anything that wasnât a financial statement in years.
âYou see a lot of things,â you say.
âSo do you.â Sheâs stirring the jjigae. The steam rises around her face. âYou just look for different stuff.â
âI look for whatâs wrong.â
âI know.â She doesnât turn around. Just keeps stirring. âMaybe thatâs why you keep coming back here. Someoneâs gotta balance you out.â
You donât argue. The fact that you donât argue is the loudest thing in the room.
Dinner is good. Not restaurant good â better. Home good. The kind of good that comes from someone who measured nothing and tasted everything, who learned to cook by watching and doing and burning things until she didnât. She eats with the same full-body commitment she brings to everything â shoulders moving, eyes closing on the first bite, a small sound of satisfaction that she doesnât censor. You eat quietly but you finish your bowl and she refills it without asking and you finish that one too.
âYou liked it,â she says.
âIt was adequate.â
âYour left eyebrow twitched.â
âIt didnât.â
âTwo bowls says otherwise.â
After dinner, she pulls you to the couch to show you edits from a recent shoot. Her laptop is open, Lightroom on screen, and she walks you through her process â culling, color grading, the specific adjustments she makes to each frame. Itâs methodical in a way you didnât expect. For someone so instinctive with the camera, her post-processing is deliberate. Analytical. She knows exactly what she wants and she works toward it with the kind of precision you associate with your own field.
Sheâs sitting close. Closer than the laptop requires. Her thigh is pressed against yours and she hasnât adjusted the distance, which means itâs either intentional or itâs the way she naturally exists near people sheâs comfortable with. Either answer does something to the air between your ribs.
She leans across you to point at a highlight adjustment, and her hair falls against your jaw. Citrus shampoo. The strands brush your neck and sheâs talking about exposure compensation but youâve stopped processing the words because her hand has landed on your thigh for balance. Her fingers are spread, casual, like this is just where hands go when youâre reaching across someoneâs body to demonstrate a slider adjustment. Sheâs still talking. Her hand stays. Your thigh is very aware that her hand stays.
She finds the photo sheâs looking for and sits back. Her hand lifts. The absence registers.
âYouâre good at this,â you say.
âI know.â No false modesty. Just fact. âIâm really good at this.â
âThat wasnât a compliment. It was an observation.â
âSure it was.â
She scrolls to a photo you havenât seen. It takes you a second to recognize the subject.
Itâs you. In the bookshop. Youâre standing by a shelf, not looking at the camera, your hand on the spine of a book you donât remember touching. The light from the window catches the side of your face, and the expression youâre wearing isnât the mask. It isnât the flat affect or the professional neutrality or the sardonic shield. Itâs just you. Reading a book title. Existing in a room without performing anything.
âWhen did you take this?â
âWhen you forgot I was there.â
You look at the photo. You look like someone you almost recognize. Not the version from performance reviews â technically excellent but interpersonally challenging â or the version that ate convenience store kimbap alone at his desk for two years. Someone softer than that. Someone who might be okay.
âItâs going on the wall,â she says.
âItâs not going on the wall.â
She holds the look a beat too long. Her eyes drop to your mouth â fast, reflexive, the kind of glance that a person makes before theyâve decided to make it â and then snap back up. She smiles. Turns back to the laptop.
âItâs absolutely going on the wall.â
She prints it on her Instax the next day. Texts you a photo of it pinned to the wall between a night market vendor and a shot of rain on a bus window.
Yujin: You're in good company
You look at the photo for a long time. You, in a bookshop, not trying to be anything. Surrounded by her work. Held in the same regard as the things she finds beautiful.
You don't respond for an hour. When you do, it's just:
You: The lighting's decent
Yujin: THAT'S WHAT I SAID!
¡ ¡ âââââââ ¡đĽ¸Âˇ âââââââ ¡ ¡
Youâve stopped finishing your cigarettes. Stopped starting them, most days. Itâs not a decision â itâs a drift, the way a habit loses its grip when something else starts occupying the space it used to fill. You light one on the rooftop, take two drags, and then she texts, and you put it out. You buy a pack and it lasts a week.
And then â on a Tuesday, walking to her apartment with takeout in a bag because she texted come over, I need you to see something, which is always her version of I want company and food â it hits you all at once.
Everything. The city at full volume, unfiltered, the way it must sound to people who haven't been breathing through smoke for five years. The ginkgo trees on the sidewalk, sharp and clean and slightly rotten in a way that's somehow good. The sweet oil from a hotteok cart two blocks over. And underneath all of it, already, before you've even reached her building â the ghost of citrus and warmth, the scent your brain has filed as destination, as arrival, as the smell of a room you want to be in. Your lungs expand. Your mouth is empty â no cigarette, no filter, no acrid drag to flatten the world back down to manageable. Every receptor is open and the data is flooding in and it's too much, it's genuinely too much, your hands are doing a thing and your chest is doing a thing and the city is so fucking loud and bright and alive that you have to stop walking for a second and just stand there on the sidewalk like an idiot processing the full bandwidth of being a person without a chemical buffer.
âHuh. So this is what the world smells like.â
Her door buzzes. You climb four flights.
She opens the door with the camera already in her hand, screen tilted toward you, talking before youâve crossed the threshold â "Okay, look at this, the light in the stairwell today was insane, I got the most incredibleââ and then she stops. Looks at you. Reads something on your face that you didnât know was there.
âYou okay?â
âYeah.â You hand her the takeout. âJust walked here.â
âYou look like you ran.â
âI walked.â
She takes the bag. Steps aside to let you in. Her hand brushes your arm as you pass â casual, the way she always touches, except this time the contact sends a current up to your shoulder and you go still. Not a flinch. Worse. The specific stillness of a body that received more signal than it was prepared for. She catches it. She catches everything.
âHey.â Sheâs standing close in the doorway. Closer than the doorway requires. Her hand comes up â slowly, deliberately â and fixes your collar. Smooths a fold that doesnât exist. Her fingers are warm against the side of your neck.
The apartment is behind her, golden and smelling like citrus and old jjigae. Sheâs in front of you, tilting her head slightly, reading your face the way she reads a frame â looking for the thing that most people would miss.
You almost close the distance. Your body tips forward â a fraction, a millimeter, an amount that only someone who studies angles for a living would notice.
She notices.
Her breath changes. Her fingers stop moving on your collar. For a full second, neither of you breathes, and the space between your mouths is so small you can feel the warmth of hers without touching them.
Your hand moves to her waist. Instinct, not decision. Your thumb lands on the strip of skin between her shirt and her jeans and she inhales â sharp, quiet, the kind of breath that sounds like a door opening.
She steps back. Holds up the camera.
âCome look at this light. Seriously. Itâs insane.â
And the moment dissolves, but the charge doesnât. It sits in the room like a frequency â below hearing, above ignoring. You eat the takeout. She tells you about the stairwell light. Her knee touches yours under the counter and neither of you moves it.
You stand in her doorway later, putting your jacket on, and think: this is what the cigarettes were for. This is the thing they were replacing. Not calm â presence. Not numbness â the ability to be in a room with someone and feel it all the way through.
You just werenât in the right room.
¡ ¡ âââââââ ¡đĽ¸Âˇ âââââââ ¡ ¡
Youâre walking her home. Itâs late â later than either of you planned, because dinner at the jjigae place down the street turned into dessert at the bakery she found last month, which turned into her telling you about a documentary she watched about deep-sea photographers, and you let her talk because her voice when sheâs passionate about something makes your lungs forget how to work properly.
Your hands are empty. No cigarette. The craving that used to sit in your fingers like a phantom has been replaced by something else â a different kind of itch, a different kind of reaching.
The street is quiet. Her shoulder keeps bumping yours because she walks slightly off-center, gravitating toward whoever sheâs with, and every bump sends her scent to you â the citrus, the clean sweat from the warm evening, something underneath thatâs just her. Your lungs expand the way they used to for the first drag. Youâre breathing her in without meaning to.
Sheâs mid-sentence about bioluminescent jellyfish when she stops walking.
âWhat?â you say.
Sheâs looking at you. Not the photographerâs look â not assessing angles or composition. Just looking at you the way a person looks at another person when theyâve run out of reasons to pretend they donât want to.
âNothing,â she says. âYou just â youâre doing the thing.â
âWhat thing.â
âThe thing where youâre actually listening. Where your face goes allâŚâ She gestures vaguely at you. âSoft. You probably donât know you do it.â
You donât know you do it.
She steps closer. Not dramatic. Just one step, closing the gap from walking together to standing in each otherâs space. Her hand goes to your collar. Not adjusting anything this time. Just landing there, the way it does now, her fingers finding the side of your neck like that's where they go.
âYujin.â
âMm.â
âWhat are you doing.â
âFixing your collar.â Her hand stays where it is. Her thumb traces a small line along the fabric, or along your skin, or along the boundary between the two. âIt was crooked.â
âIt wasnât crooked.â
âIt was a little crooked.â
You look at her. Sheâs close enough to smell the honey tea on her breath. Close enough that your body identifies her proximity the way it used to identify the lighter in your pocket â instinctive, chemical, the knowledge that relief is right there if you just reach.
You close the distance.
Her mouth is warm. The first contact hits you the way the first drag of a cigarette used to â that rush, that full-body exhale, that thing where every nerve ending recalibrates at once. Except this is better. Immeasurably better. Because nicotine was always a substitute for something your body actually wanted, and this â her lips, her breath, the soft sound she makes when your mouth finds hers â this is the thing itself.
She tastes like honey tea and something that your brain immediately categorizes as necessary. Her hand moves from your collar to the back of your neck, and she pulls you closer with a firmness that surprises you â not forceful, just certain. Like sheâs been waiting for this and now that itâs happening sheâs not going to let any part of it be half-done.
You kiss her on a quiet street in Yeonnam-dong with the glow of a convenience store sign casting blue light across the pavement, and it lasts long enough that when you pull back youâve both forgotten what she was saying about jellyfish. Your hand is on her waist. You donât remember putting it there. Her fingers are in your hair. Neither of you is breathing normally.
âThat wasââ she starts.
âYeah.â
âYou didnât let me finish.â
âYou were going to say something about the light.â
She laughs. Breathless. âI was going to say it was worth the wait.â
The walk home is different. She holds your hand â not laced fingers, just her palm against yours, steady. Your thumb traces a small circle on the back of her hand, involuntary, and she squeezes once in response.
At her door, she turns, back against the frame, and looks up at you â and you donât wait for her to initiate this time. You kiss her and she makes a sound against your mouth, a small surprised hum that vibrates through you, and her hands find the front of your jacket and pull. The kiss deepens, her tongue finding yours, and the taste of her is addictive in the clinical, neurological sense.
âStay,â she says into the space between your mouths. Her hands are still fisted in your jacket.
âYujin.â
âIâm not â it doesnât have to be anything.â Her voice is lower than normal. Rougher. âJust stay.â
You stay.
¡ ¡ âââââââ ¡đĽ¸Âˇ âââââââ ¡ ¡
The door barely closes before her mouth is on yours again.
She pulls you in by the jacket, walking backward, and the apartment is dark except for the city glow through the window. You hear the camera bag hit the floor â she dropped it somewhere between the hallway and here, the first time youâve seen her treat that bag as anything less than sacred. Your jacket follows. Her hands are on your chest, your shoulders, the back of your neck, touching with the same instinctive urgency she brings to a camera when the light is perfect and fading fast.
âLamp,â she says against your mouth, and reaches sideways without looking, fingers finding the switch. Warm light floods the room. And in that light you see her face clearly: flushed, bright-eyed, mouth swollen from kissing, looking at you like youâre the best frame sheâs ever found.
You push her gently against the wall beside the lamp. She lets you. Her back hits flat and she gasps â not from impact, just from the sudden stillness after all the motion. Your hand finds the side of her neck, tilts her chin up, and you kiss her the way youâve been wanting to since the break room, since the stairwell, since the first time she said you look good in this light and you pretended it didnât register.
She kisses back like sheâs starving. Her hands slide under your shirt and the contact of her palms on bare skin sends a current through you that makes your fingers tighten on her waist.
âYou smell different,â she murmurs between kisses, her nose against your jaw. âSince you stopped smoking. You smell likeââ She breathes you in. âLike a person. Not an ashtray. Itâs really good.â
âThanks?â
âShut up. Iâm complimenting you.â She pulls back enough to look at you. Her eyes are dark and steady and completely unguarded. âYou taste different too. Better. Like, significantly better.â
âYouâve been thinking about how I taste?â
âSince the first time you almost smiled on the rooftop.â Zero hesitation. âIâve been thinking about a lot of things. Like, an embarrassing amount.â
She pulls you off the wall and toward the couch, her hands on your belt loops like handles. She pulls you down. Youâre over her, weight on your forearms, and she looks up at you with her hair fanned against the cushion and the light turning her skin gold, and her legs wrap around the back of yours â casual, automatic, the way her body claims space wherever it goes.
Her t-shirt has ridden up. Your hand is on the bare skin of her stomach â taut, the muscles underneath shifting when she breathes. She inhales sharply when your thumb traces the line of her hip. Her fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt and pull you down, and the kiss is slower now, deeper, the urgency giving way to something more deliberate. Sheâs exploring you. Cataloging. Committing.
You do the same. The curve of her waist. The softness just below her ribs. The way her breath catches when you kiss the hollow beneath her ear, and the way she tilts her head to give you more access without being asked.
She pulls back. Breathless. Her hand on your chest, feeling your heartbeat.
âHi,â she says. Smiling. Wrecked.
âHi.â
"We should slow down."
"We should."
Neither of you moves.
Your weight shifts. Barely â just the beginning of the motion your body makes before it stands up and puts distance between itself and whatever's happening. You've done it a thousand times. Doorways, conversations, rooftops. The lean-back. The reach for the cigarette that buys you thirty seconds of not being here.
Your weight settles back.
Her eyes search your face. Whatever she finds there â the answer you're not saying, the permission you're not asking for â she reads it the way she reads light. Instantly. Completely.
She reaches down and pulls her t-shirt over her head.
Itâs not a performance. No arch of the back, no calculated reveal. She pulls the shirt off the way she slings a camera strap â practiced, unselfconscious, a body moving through a decision it already made. Her sports bra is plain, gray, functional, and the sight of her in it â the bare skin, the lines of her collarbones, the flat plane of her stomach and the way the light catches the curve of her waist â lands in your chest like a controlled detonation.
She drops the shirt on the floor. Looks at you.
âYour turn.â
You pull your shirt off. Her eyes track the movement, and then theyâre on your chest, your shoulders, the lines of your body, and sheâs looking at you the way she looks through the viewfinder â finding what she wants, assessing, deciding. Her hand comes up and presses flat against your sternum. Warm palm. Steady pressure. She can feel your heartbeat and she knows it.
âYouâre shaking,â she says. Not a question.
âNo Iâm not.â
âYou are.â Her thumb traces a line across your chest. âItâs okay. Iâm nervous too.â
âYou donât look nervous.â
âIâm an excellent liar.â She grins. It breaks the tension just enough â just enough to remind you that this is Yujin, the woman who force-fed you tteokbokki and steals your headshots and finds beauty in rust stains, and whatever happens next is still her. Still this. âExcept right now Iâm not. Iâm actually nervous. Lookââ She takes your hand and places it over hers on your chest. âSee? My hands are being so embarrassing right now.â
Her fingers are trembling. Not a lot â just enough that you can feel it, and the vulnerability of that admission, the fact that she showed you instead of hiding it, does something to you that her body against yours didnât.
You kiss her. She kisses back with her trembling hands on your face, and the kiss is different now â the urgency is still there but thereâs something underneath it, something that has weight, and when she pulls you down onto her the contact is skin to skin for the first time, her stomach against yours, her chest against yours, and the closeness of her is almost too much.
She reaches behind her back and unclasps the sports bra. Pulls it off. Drops it with the same unselfconscious practicality as the shirt.
Sheâs beautiful â not decorative, not posed, just the raw meaning of the word. Sheâs beautiful the way the rooftop was beautiful after she photographed it. Something youâd seen a thousand times that suddenly looks like it matters. Small breasts with dark nipples, already stiff from the air or the anticipation. The athletic build â lean stomach, the subtle definition of someone who moves for a living. The lamp paints her gold.
âYouâre staring,â she says.
âI was looking at the lamp.â
âLiar.â But sheâs smiling. And she pulls you back down.
Your mouth finds her neck. Her collarbone. The hollow of her throat where her pulse beats fast and visible. She arches into the contact, her hand on the back of your head, guiding without directing. Her breath comes shorter. When your mouth reaches her breast and your lips close around her nipple, she makes a sound â a small, sharp inhale that you feel more than hear â and her fingers tighten in your hair.
âThat'sââ She doesnât finish the sentence. Her hips shift against yours and you feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her shorts, and the friction pulls a sound from your throat that you didnât authorize.
She hears it. Her eyes go wide, then dark.
âDo that again,â she says.
âDo what.â
âMake that sound again.â Her hips roll into yours â intentional this time, a slow grind that sends a bolt through you. âI want to hear it.â
Sheâs moving. Her hand slides down your stomach, fingers tracing the line of your waistband, and the touch short-circuits whatever part of your brain was still keeping track.
âOff,â she says, tugging at your belt. âThese need to be off.â
You stand up long enough to handle the logistics. Belt. Pants. She watches from the couch, propped on her elbows, hair everywhere, chest rising and falling, and her eyes track down your body with the specific attention of someone taking a mental photograph.
âGood,â she says. Simple. Like sheâs confirming exposure settings.
She lifts her hips and slides her shorts down. Then the underwear â plain, black, functional â and she drops them on the pile and looks at you with zero embarrassment, zero hesitation, the same confidence she carries into every room she enters.
Sheâs completely bare on her couch in the low light.
âCome here,â she says.
You go to her. Kneel between her legs on the couch. She reaches for you but you catch her hand, press it back against the cushion, and she blinks â surprised, curious, not resisting.
âWait,â you say.
âFor what?â
You donât answer. You kiss her mouth. Then her jaw. Her neck, slower. The dip of her collarbone. Between her breasts, where you can feel her heartbeat through her sternum.
âWhere are you going,â she murmurs. Not a question. More like sheâs tracking you. Her fingers slide through your hair.
Her stomach, where the muscles tense under your lips. The jut of her hip bone. The inside of her thigh, where the skin is softer than anywhere else youâve touched tonight, and her breath goes jagged.
âOh,â she says. Quiet. Almost to herself. âOh, you'reââ
You are.
Youâve been tasting everything differently since you stopped smoking. Coffee. Street food. Rain. The city itself, bright and unfiltered and overwhelming. Every flavor sharper, every sensation louder, every input arriving without the buffer of smoke and tar flattening it to manageable.
This is the one youâve been waiting for without knowing you were waiting.
The first taste of her makes your brain shut up. Sheâs warm and slick and the taste is clean and sharp and entirely her, and your mouth knows what to do before your mind catches up.
Her hand flies to your hair. Not guiding this time â holding on.
âFuck.â Her voice is wrecked already and youâve barely started. Her thighs tense on either side of your head. âThatâs â right there, don'tââ
You donât move. You stay where she put you and work her with your tongue, slow and focused, learning what makes her breathing change and what makes her hips cant up and what makes her fingers tighten in your hair until it hurts. Sheâs responsive in a way you didnât expect â not performative, just honest. Every reaction is immediate and unfiltered. When something works, she tells you. When something really works, she stops being able to form words and just makes sounds.
âSlower,â she breathes. Then, ten seconds later: âNo â faster. Like before. Do that thing â yeah. Yeah.â
You slide two fingers inside her. Sheâs wet enough that they go easy and her back arches off the couch and the sound she makes is somewhere between a moan and a laugh â surprised, almost delighted, like she didnât expect this to feel as good as it does.
âMore,â she manages. âKeep â your mouth, donât stop your mouthââ
You curl your fingers. Find the spot that makes her thighs shake. Keep your mouth on her clit and work both at the same time, and her whole body starts to vibrate â not trembling, vibrating, like a struck tuning fork, every muscle engaged and every nerve firing.
âYouâre so good at this,â she says, and her voice cracks on the last word. âHow are you â fuck â how are you this good at this.â
Sheâs close. You can feel it in the way her walls tighten around your fingers, in the way her breathing loses any rhythm, in the way her hand in your hair goes from holding to gripping to pulling hard enough that your scalp burns.
âIâm going toââ She canât finish. Her hips lift off the couch and her free hand slams against the armrest and she comes with her thighs pressed against your ears, muffling the sound she makes into something low and distant and shaking. You feel it from the inside â the clench, the pulse, the flood of warmth â and you work her through it, gentling as she gentles, until sheâs trembling and pushing weakly at your shoulder.
âStop,â she breathes. âToo much. Come here.â
You crawl up her body. She pulls you down into a kiss â slower now, tasting herself on your mouth, and you feel the moment she registers it because she makes a small, bitten-off sound and her hand tightens on the back of your neck.
âYouâre really good at that,â she says against your lips.
âObservation, not compliment.â
âShut up.â She laughs. Breathless, warm, her chest shaking against yours. âThat was â I need a second. Give me a second.â
You give her a second. She uses it to wrap her legs around you and pull your hips against hers, which is the opposite of what someone who needs a second does.
âI thought you needed a second.â
"I lied." Her hand reaches between you. Wraps around you. Your jaw clenches and your hips jerk forward and she watches your face with an expression that's equal parts tender and fascinated. "There. That's the one I've been looking for."
She strokes you â slow, certain, her grip firm â and your arms shake where theyâre holding you up.
âI want you,â she says. Not a whisper. She says it at full volume, in the warm apartment, with the lamp on and the city outside. âIâve wanted this for weeks. Iâm so done waiting.â
âYouâre the least patient person Iâve ever met.â
âAnd yet.â She positions you at her entrance, her hand steady, and then she looks at you â holds your gaze, completely still. âDonât be gentle.â
The first push is anything but. She tilts her hips up and you sink into her and the heat is staggering â tight, wet, her body opening around you in a way that makes both of you stop breathing for a second. She takes all of you. Her legs tighten around your hips. Her hands find your shoulders and grip.
âMove,â she says. âPlease move.â
You move. Not slow, not careful â she said donât be gentle and youâre taking her at her word. She matches you immediately, her hips rising to meet yours, finding your rhythm and locking into it like sheâs been waiting to move with you.
Her fingers move from your shoulders to your face. She holds you there, foreheads almost touching, breath mingling, and watches you as you fuck her. The eye contact is unbearable.
âHarder,â she says.
The couch protests. Her nails rake down your back and you donât care. The sounds filling the apartment are hers â small gasps that build into longer moans. Your name, once, said like something sheâs certain about.
âWaitââ She pushes at your chest. You stop, and for a half-second you think somethingâs wrong, but sheâs not in pain. Sheâs thinking. âTurn over. Sit up.â
You sit back against the couch. She climbs onto you without hesitation, one knee on either side, and pauses. Looks down at you. Thereâs something in her expression â not playful, not tender. Predatory. The kind of look that makes your stomach drop in a way that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with what comes after it.
âYou should be a little scared right now,â she says.
âOf what.â
âOf me up here.â She settles onto your thighs. Rolls her hips once â slow, testing â and the contact makes your jaw tighten. âBecause once I start, I donât care how it feels for you. Iâm using you.â She leans forward. Her mouth brushes your ear. âIâm going to grip you and ride you like Iâm trying to rip it off. And youâre going to let me.â
Your hands find her hips. Your grip is harder than you intend.
âThatâs not a threat,â she says, pulling back to look at you. The grin is devastating. âThatâs a promise.â
She sinks down in a single movement that pulls a groan from somewhere deep and involuntary.
âBetter,â she says, settling. Her hands on your shoulders. Her face above yours. She rolls her hips â once, slow, testing the angle â and her eyes flutter shut. âMuch better. I can feel all of you like this.â
She starts to move. Her hips roll in a rhythm thatâs unhurried, certain, the kind of movement that comes from someone who lives in her body. She sets the pace. Your hands are on her hips but sheâs dictating everything.
"Look at me," she says.
You look at her. The light turns her skin gold and her eyes are dark and her mouth is open.
Her rhythm slows. Not stopping â just settling, like she's adjusting a frame. Her eyes move across your face the way they move across a viewfinder.
"You have no idea what you look like right now," she says. Quiet. Almost to herself. Then, steadier, "Don't close your eyes."
You donât close your eyes.
âYou feel so deep like this,â she murmurs. Her hips grind down and her breath catches. âEvery time I move I can â fuck.â Her nails dig into your shoulders. âRight there. Stay right there.â
She clenches around you and her rhythm stutters. Her hands move from your shoulders to the back of the couch for leverage and the change in angle makes her cry out â surprised by her own pleasure. Her movements get faster, sharper, chasing something thatâs building faster than she expected.
âTouch me,â she says. She takes your hand and presses your fingers against her clit. âRight there.â
You rub circles against her while she rides you and her rhythm breaks completely. Half-grinding, half-bouncing, chasing two sensations at once. Her head falls back and her breathing goes ragged and sheâs saying things you barely process â right there and donât stop and fuck, thatâs good â and then she goes rigid above you, her walls clamping down, and she comes with your name on her lips and her nails in your shoulders.
She rides through it. Shaking. Slowing. Her body goes slack and she drops her forehead to your shoulder, breathing hard against your neck.
âGive me a second,â she pants. âJust â one second.â
You give her the second. Your hands trace up and down her back, feeling the muscles tremble under your palms. She lifts her head. Looks at you. Her eyes are glazed and soft and her mouth is swollen and she looks at you like youâre something sheâs afraid might disappear.
Then she lifts off you. Slow. The separation pulls a sound from both of you â loss, air, the sudden cool where heat was. She slides down between your legs, off the couch and onto her knees on the floor, and her hand wraps around you before youâve processed the change in geography.
âWhat are youââ
âShh.â Sheâs looking at you. Down at you, now â the angle reversed, her between your legs, her hand stroking you slow and slick with whatâs left of both of you. âI want to taste what we did.â
Her mouth closes over you and the world compresses to a single point.
Sheâs not tentative about it. Her tongue is flat and deliberate and she takes you deep enough that her nose presses against your stomach, and the sound she makes â low, satisfied, a hum that vibrates through you â suggests this isnât for you. Or not only for you. She pulls back slowly, her lips dragging, tongue working the underside, and looks up at you with her mouth still on you.
She doesnât look away. Thatâs the thing. Those wide, dark eyes â the same ones that light up over street food and golden hour and a good frame â are locked on yours, and the contrast between the softness of her gaze and what her mouth is doing is genuinely criminal. She looks innocent. She looks like sheâs asking you how your day was. She looks like a girl who found something she likes and is taking her time with it.
âYou taste like me,â she says. Not shy about it. Fascinated. She takes you again, deeper, and her eyes stay on yours the entire time â wide, unblinking, almost curious â and your hand finds the back of her head. Not pushing, just holding. Needing something solid because your vision is starting to blur at the edges.
Sheâs good at this. Obscenely, unreasonably good at this. She alternates between slow, deep strokes that make your toes curl and focused attention on the head that makes your vision swim. Her hand works what her mouth doesnât cover. And through all of it â every stroke, every pause, every slow swirl of her tongue â she holds your gaze. Those fucking eyes. Soft and round and looking up at you like youâre the only thing worth seeing, while her mouth takes you apart inch by inch.
You try to look away. At the ceiling. The wall. Anything. She pulls off just enough to speak.
âEyes on me,â she says. Quiet. Then takes you back in, deeper than before, and you watch her because she told you to and because looking away from her right now would require a kind of willpower you no longer possess.
âYujin.â Your voice comes out rougher than youâve ever heard it. âIâm going toââ
She pulls off. Wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Grins up at you from between your knees with her lips swollen and her eyes bright and her hair wrecked.
âNot yet,â she says. âNot like that.â
âYouâre going to kill me.â
âMaybe.â She climbs back up. Straddles you again. Takes you in her hand, positions you, and sinks down â and this time the sound you make is unrecognizable. Sheâs wetter now, hotter, and your whole body is pulled taut from what her mouth just did and the relief of being inside her again is borderline violent.
âHi again,â she says softly. She starts to move â slower this time, deeper, less frantic. Sheâs watching your face with an expression that has nothing to do with control and everything to do with wanting to see you come apart.
âIâve been thinking about this since the break room,â she says. Rolling her hips. âSince you sat there drinking your terrible coffee and I wanted to climb across the table.â
Your hands grip her hips. Youâre close. She knows youâre close.
âCome in me,â she breathes. âI want to feel it.â
You grip her hips and pull her down and the orgasm hits like something structural giving way. She holds you through it, arms around your neck, her mouth against your ear, whispering things you canât process â your name, and yes, and Iâve got you â and the warmth of it, all of it, her body and her voice and her hands in your hair, is the only thing that exists.
She stays on you after. Neither of you moves. Your face is in her neck and her fingers are drawing slow circles on your back and the apartment is quiet except for breathing.
âYouâre heavy,â she says eventually.
âYouâre on top of me.â
âDetails.â She pulls back. Looks at you. Her face is flushed and soft and open and she looks like a person who just got exactly what she wanted and canât believe itâs real. âThat wasââ
âYeah.â
âYou didnât let me finish.â
âIt was going to be something about the light.â
She laughs. Full, warm, her whole body shaking against yours. She kisses your forehead. Stays there for a second, her lips against your skin.
âIt was about the light,â she admits. âEverythingâs about the light.â
She climbs off. The separation is a small loss. She pads to the kitchen, and you lie there on the couch with the light on your chest and think about nothing.
¡ ¡ âââââââ ¡đĽ¸Âˇ âââââââ ¡ ¡
She gets water. She pads back from the kitchen with two glasses and a bag of dried mango slices that she tears open with her teeth.
âHydrate,â she says, handing you a glass. She sits cross-legged on the couch next to you, entirely bare, and drinks her water like this is a normal Tuesday. Then she pops a mango slice in her mouth and chews with the same commitment she brings to every meal â eyes closing, shoulders relaxing, a small sound of satisfaction.
Sheâs sitting naked on her couch eating dried mango, occasionally scrolling her phone with her free hand, and itâs the most surreal image youâve ever processed.
âYouâre staring again,â she says.
âI was looking at the mango.â
She laughs â the one that makes the room smaller. She puts the bag down and leans into your side, her bare shoulder against your bare arm, her head finding the dip below your collarbone like it was designed for it.
She traces a line down your chest with her fingertip. Slow.
âI was scared you were going to say no tonight,â she says. âWhen I said stay.â
âWhy would I say no.â
âBecause youâre you. Because youâve got that whole thing where you keep everyone at like, exactly this far.â She holds her hands apart, measuring an invisible distance. Presses her cheek against your chest. You can feel her eyelashes against your skin. âI was scared you were gonna do the thing. Where you decide itâs not worth it and just⌠disappear. Go back to the rooftop and the coffee and pretend this didnât happen.â
âIâm not going anywhere.â
âYou say that. But Iâve seen how your brain works. Everything gets weighed.â
âNot everything.â
She lifts her head. Looks at you. Her face is open â unposed, unperformed, the same expression she wears when she shows someone her best photograph and doesnât know if theyâll understand it.
âNot this,â you say.
She kisses you. Soft. Unhurried. Her hand on the side of your face, her thumb against your jaw. It tastes like mango and warmth and the specific saltiness of a woman whoâs been crying a little and hoping you didnât notice. You noticed. You donât mention it.
âOkay,â she says when she pulls back. âGood. Okay.â
You put your arm around her. The apartment is quiet. The lamp is still on. She steals your shirt from the floor and pulls it on â it hangs past her thighs, the collar wide enough to show one shoulder â and settles back against you with a satisfied sound.
¡ ¡ âââââââ ¡đĽ¸Âˇ âââââââ ¡ ¡
Later.
The overhead is off. Sheâs on the couch with her legs in your lap, wearing your shirt and nothing else, scrolling through the dayâs photos on her camera.
Youâre reading something on your phone. Or pretending to. Your thumb hasnât moved in a while.
Her feet are warm against your thigh. Her toes curl absently. She smells like citrus shampoo and sex and dried mango, and youâre aware of every point of contact between her body and yours.
âThis one,â she says, tilting the screen toward you. The rooftop at golden hour â she went up there last week while you were in a meeting, chasing the light the way she always does. The railing with the city behind it, everything drenched in amber. âThis might be the best thing Iâve shot all year.â
âYou say that every week.â
âBecause it keeps being true.â She pulls the camera back, scrolls more. âIâm thinking of doing a series. Golden hour across the city â same time every day, different rooftops. Chase the light.â
âSounds like a lot of rooftops.â
âSeoul has thousands. Iâll never run out.â
âYouâll run out of buildings that let you up.â
âThatâs what charm is for.â She grins without looking up. âAnd bolt cutters.â
She stops scrolling.
You glance over. Sheâs looking at the screen with an expression you havenât seen directed at a photograph. Private. Tender.
âWhat?â you say.
She turns the camera toward you.
Itâs you. Not the bookshop one â a different shot, taken last week when you werenât paying attention. Youâre on her couch, reading, the lamp light catching the side of your face. The expression is open in a way you donât recognize as yours. Not smiling, exactly. Just present. Unguarded. Looking at something just out of frame with an expression that could only mean one thing.
Looking at her.
âYou canât put that on the wall,â you say.
âToo late. Itâs already up here.â She taps her temple. âThe actual wall is just catching up.â
âYujin.â
âItâs the best photo Iâve ever taken.â She says it simply. No jest, no deflection. âYou have no idea what you look like when you stop trying so hard.â
She sets the camera on the coffee table. Shifts on the couch, pulling her legs from your lap and folding them underneath her so sheâs facing you. Close. Her knee against your hip.
âCan I tell you something?â she says.
âCan I stop you?â
âYou keep asking that.â
âThe answerâs always no.â
âThe answerâs always no.â She reaches out and traces a line down the side of your face with her fingertip. Jaw to chin. Slow. âI love you.â
The words land in the room like a shutter click. Small. Definite. Irreversible.
âI know that'sââ She stops. Starts over. The certainty in her voice flickers for the first time tonight. âI know itâs soon. I know we barely â I mean, weâve known each other for what, a month? Thatâs crazy. Thatâs actually insane. Iâm aware of how this sounds.â
Sheâs not looking at the camera or the photos or the city. Sheâs looking at you, and thereâs something behind her eyes that isnât the usual brightness. Something that costs her.
âBut Iâm not â I donât do this halfway. I canât. Itâs not how Iâm built.â She picks at a thread on your shirt â the one sheâs wearing. Her voice is getting faster, the way it does when sheâs scared of the silence that comes after. âIâm not here to just test the waters. Iâm all in. I need you to know that. I need you to know that when I show up, Iâm showing up compââ
You put your hands on her face and kiss her.
Not the way you kissed her tonight â not hungry, not urgent, not the kind that leads somewhere. This one is slow. Still. Your thumbs rest on her cheekbones and your palms hold her jaw and you kiss her like youâre trying to say something that your mouth has never been good at saying with words. She goes rigid for a half-second â surprised â and then she softens. Completely. Her hands come up and close around your wrists, holding your hands against her face, and she breathes into the kiss like sheâs been holding her breath for weeks.
You pull back just enough to see her. Her eyes are wet. Her lips are parted. She's looking at you like she's terrified of what you're about to say.
"The tteokbokki was really good."
She blinks. Her mouth opens. Closes. Something between a laugh and a sob escapes, and she shoves your shoulder â hard, the way she does â and you catch her wrist and hold it.
"I love you," you say.
The words have been true for weeks, maybe longer. Saying them out loud is like putting the final number in a column and watching the total balance for the first time.
She smiles. The small one. The one thatâs just for rooms with one person in them. Her eyes are bright and wet and she doesnât try to hide it.
âYeah?â she says. Quiet. Almost a whisper.
âYeah.â
She reads your face. Whatever she finds there is enough, because she exhales â slow, relieved, like sheâd been holding something without realizing it â and her whole body softens against you.
âGood,â she says. And then, quieter: âGood.â
She settles against your side. Her head finds your shoulder. Her breathing evens out. The apartment is quiet.
¡ ¡ âââââââ ¡đĽ¸Âˇ âââââââ ¡ ¡
Your phone buzzes on the coffee table.
Itâs late. The lamp is the only light. Yujin is asleep against you, her breathing slow and even, her face pressed into your chest. The apartment smells like citrus candle burned to nothing and cold takeout and her, and youâre warm, and youâre not dreaming, and everything about this moment is something you didnât know you were allowed to have.
Your phone buzzes again.
You reach for it without thinking. Muscle memory â the same reflex that reaches for a cigarette, the same hand, the same automatic motion toward whateverâs buzzing or burning.
The screen lights up. The blue-white glow cuts through the lampâs gold.
Two messages. From a number you never deleted.
Rei: My father didn't make it. Three weeks ago. I'm back in Seoul.
Rei: I know I have no right to text you. I'm texting you anyway.
You read the messages twice. Three times. The words are short and plain and stripped of everything that used to make Rei who she was â the smoke, the composure, the way she could lean against a railing and make silence feel like a dare. There's no performance here. Just a woman who lost her father and came back to the only city that makes sense, and the first person she texted is someone she left without saying goodbye.
Yujin shifts in her sleep. Her arm tightens across your stomach. Her lips move against your chest â murmuring something, a word or a sound, the involuntary language of a person dreaming.
You look at the phone. You look at the woman sleeping on you. The lamp is still on. The light is golden.
But outside the window, the sky has gone blue. That specific blue â the one photographers know, the one that comes after the golden hour ends. Cold. Beautiful. The last light before dark.
You lock the phone. The screen goes black.
You don't respond. Not yet. Not tonight.
But you don't delete the messages either.
Yujin breathes. The lamp hums. The city sleeps.
And the blue hour holds.
â Previous Part | End | Next Part Coming Soon â
If you enjoyed the fic, feel free to drop a comment or send an ask. Hearing your thoughts genuinely helps me improve and shape what I write next. And if youâve made it to this message, Iâm guessing you finished the story, so thank you so much for reading. Decide what the OC should do next to influence the next chapter of this story!
Taglist:Â @starconstruction @queenbiangel @mascarponny @kindtyranny @autumnyacorn @xantithesis @erospandemos @delusionnary @battoussaaii @nekkonii @scacrelymutantpuma @thedarkling10 @rvp32 @rei-simpe4life @leafostuff @redredbingsu @xana86 @brandoff088 @fortunatelygrandsoul @taffyizhere @qivaan @ezioo121
What should the OC do next?
Meetup with Rei and comfort her
Stay with Yujin and forget about Rei
MASTERLIST
Eclipse Garden: Chapter 1: Welcome to the Night Chapter 2: A Bear in Heat Chapter 3: The Transfer Student Chapter 4: Walks and Talks Chapter Five: The Guard Chapter Six: Three Not So Little Cats Chapter Seven: Bad Kitty Chapter Eight: What are we? Chapter Nine: The Temptress Chapter Ten: Puzzle Pieces Chapter 11: Lines Blurred and Crossed Chapter 12: Where Paths Converge Chapter 13: Damsels in Distress Part 1 Chapter 14: Damsels in Distress Part 2 Chapter 15: Moving Forward Chapter 16: Meetings and Reunions
Farewell my First
Aespa's Karina x M!Reader
Note: I have joined the meta. Can't believe I'm starting my first fic after 2k with a Rina fic lol.
Ok, but seriously, special shoutout to @azelfty for the plot suggestion (it was so good that I have to write it), and @valentinedrifter for beta reading <3
And also listen to Farewell my First by TripleS too.
tw: melodrama.
(11.7k words)
âLadies and gentlemen, weâre experiencing some turbulence. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.â
Just a slow, exhausted exhale through your nose as the plane shudders again and your headache pulses in protest.
Of course.
Fifteen hours in economy. Middle seat. Paid with possibly all your savings and more. Knees wedged between a metal tray table and the unforgiving spin of the seat in front of you. The guy on your left has annexed half your armrest, while the woman on your right snores like she is in her own place an hour into the flight (and also slowly leaning into your shoulder ever since.)
You consider just lying on the walkway instead, because you'd have legroom there.
The seat cushion is so thin that you swear you can feel the frame underneath, and by then your lower back has given up on fighting back for comfort. Two rows up ahead, the annoying overhead light keeps on flickering at the peripheral of your tired eyes, which apparently is a signal for the plane to jolt again.
Sigh.
Why did you pick Korea again? There were easier places to disappear to, like Thailand or Vietnam with all the foods to eat, cultures to see, and places with history that is not your own.
Well, you clearly didn't think that far when booking the ticket.
Anyway, another dip seems like enough cue for the fasten seatbelt sign to chime (no one is standing anyway.), and you are already strapped in all directions. Good thing your hand can still reach down to your pocket for the phone. Of course, no signal â just you and the sweet ass fifteen hours of recycled air.
So the camera roll it is.
You thumb scrolls lazily â dinner you had last night, a building façade that you saved to show to your boss later, a random rock layout in a garden, the pigeon chilling on your window sill.Â
And then thereâs Jimin.Â
You stop at a particular old photo of her back in 2010 â short hair, bare face, sitting cross-legged on your apartment floor, holding your mirrorless camera that you kept telling her to not touch it (it cost you 8 months' worth of allowance saving.) The conversation still lingers in your head, with how whiny that tomboy was.
"I don't get it," she squints through the viewfinder. "Why does it look worse when I touch it?"
"Because you're touching it."
"I have to touch it." "Not like that what the fuck."
You scroll past them now, somehow never delete them.
The plane jolts again, harder this time. The sleeping woman's head knocks against you, but your quick reflex tilt your shoulder and lift her head up so that she falls back upright without waking.
Apparently, that was amusing enough for you to let out a small chuckle â the same dry sound you made in the park where Jimin screamed like a banshee when learning to ride a bike.
Oh right, here's the video: the park near your high school that day was busier than you expected. Students draped across the grass with textbooks they definitely werenât reading, couples sharing headphones, a few overachievers holding impromptu study circles, and someone near the food stall insisting their guitar cover of âCalifornia Gurlsâ would change lives.
And then there was you adjusting the rental bike seat, and a certain nervous Jimin stood beside you quivering â helmet strapped tight, hands holding the camera with such pseudo-confidence, and her brows furrowed. She may be pretending to be an athlete, but in reality, she just needed to pedal twenty metres.
âAlright,â you said, patting the seat. âRule one: donât panic. Rule two: stay balance. Rule threeââ
âDonât panic again?â she interrupted, lips twitching.
You gave her a flat look. âNo. Rule three is donât make me look stupid in public.â
ââŚNot âbe stupidâ but ânot make you stupidâ?â
"Yes, also why are you holding the camera?"
"For you to record my success."
"Bitch, you haven't even moved." "Confidence is key."
âNo,â you corrected. âBalance is key. Rule 2. Confidence is what youâll lose in about ten seconds.â
"Sure right. I got this, easy!"
She did not.
âYAAHHHHHHHHHHâ!â
Second attempt: the camera is propped on a bench nearby that (miraculously) got you two in sight. You jogged beside her and hand gripped the back of the seat. She pedalled this time with such wobble and instability. Her breathing is no better â out of context, people will think she's on the last leg of the triathlon. For three seconds, her stance was fineâŚuntil she steered directly into a bush.
The video ends here, and you don't remember much of what happened afterwards. Itâs been seven years ever since you left (Jeesus, fucking christ. Itâs 2017 now.), but you don't delve further to it and lock your phone.
Sigh. Bundang. Korea. Hopefully not meeting Jimin right now, and hopefully the visit will be simple.
You close your eyes again as the plane rattles once more.
-
The headache still continues, and it doesn't go away when you spot Jimin from afar before she spots you. (Aw shuck.)
One thing you remember about Yoo Jimin is that she likes to show off. Because look at that girl leaning against a pillar near Arrivals with her cap low, mask pulled down under her chin, and scrolling through her phone. Oh, and thereâs a black SUV parked illegally not too far from the curb. Hazard lights blinking too. Mhm. She is definitely showing off that new car, for sure.
Ok so, your first thought is: how the fuck she knows you're coming today? You told virtually no one.
And then your second thought comes immediately: ah, Mom and Dad.
Yeah, your family and hers have always been like that since moving to the neighbourhood â occasional overlapping dinners, the mothers going groceries together, the fathers bonding over oil leaks and DIY sink repairs, and gossip bounds to pass around. This time? No different â they told her, and she volunteers to pick you up. Well, at least it's better than grabbing Uber with a random driver. No point complaining then, you just adjust the strap of your backpack, hand grabbing the suitcase, and walking towards her.
She looks up.
And her face lights up like those episodes of Shin-chan she never outgrew. She pushes off the pillar and waves both arms above her head, greeting you as if you just found a solution for homelessness (A big problem to solve as a future architect).Â
And you resist the urge to turn sideways, preparing to sleep on the street instead. Ah shit that sounds bad, but to refute, you don't hate her â she's been your best friend since the age you both discovered that concrete hurts when you fall. (on the head, because Jimin,)
But that â ugh, fucking hell â is exactly why she's the last person you really want to see right now.
Of all the same-age friends you know, Jimin's the only one who stayed up with you on video calls, listening to you when you two were studying for the CSAT. The one who also has a high chance of accepting the scholarship, yet she said "You'll obviously get it." The one who proudly told anyone who would listen that you were pursuing a top-tier PhD overseas. At a university she once admitted she wished she could attend.
And nowâŚSigh. Maybe not yet. You're too tired for that conversation.
You drag your suitcase towards her, and up close, and she looksâŚdifferent. Well, longer hair, for one, but more than that, time actually did its job.
The town used to call her the wild child who unapologetically dragged you into the mud, who climbed trees in oversized shorts and punched your arm for no reason whenever you two sat on a bench in front of the ice cream shop. Yeah, all those memories mean jack shit when looking at her right now â fitted jeans, cropped shirt, and baggy jacket, straight posture like a model, long hair falling down neatly. (You look around to make sure there aren't any idol paparazzi around.)
Speaking of the melon in the room, yeah of course you notice. Not that hard when strangers glance at her twice, and how her curve fills out clothes that makes you forget how she once ate dirt just for a dare.
"What?" Ah shit, she catches you looking. "I look good, yeah?"
"âŚsure."
"C'mon, be more enthusiastic for me! I've been working out."
"I can tell."
She beams brightly upon hearing the exact validation she was fishing for. "Cool, right? Pilate and good styling. Airport fashion is very important."
"Bitch, last time we called, you were in a public park looking like a bozo."
"Whatever." She slaps your shoulder playfully before grabbing your suitcase handle from you. "You look more homeless now than I am."
You glance down at the hoodie you have been wearing since moving aboard, and the-true-definition-of-comfy trackpants. "I flew here for 15 hours. Almost dying in Economy."
"âŚSkill issue." "Fuck you."
(You almost smile. Almost.)
She yaps the entire walk to the parking lot â the everlasting traffic, the constant honk when she drives at 20km/h when looking for parking space, how she parallel parked perfectly on the first try, and whatever rambling nonsense Jimin has on the back of her seat. It's easier to let her voice wash over you like a radio on a Sunday morning.
In the car, she adjusts the rearview mirror slightly, presumedly to check herself out. A subtle hair flip and a quick lip gloss touch-up.
"You're staring, sleepyhead." Oh, oops. Must've subconsciously staring at her.
"I'm not." "You are."
"Just thinking how much you've changed." "For the better?"
"âŚ" You pinched your brows.
-
The city lights blur past the window as the car merges to the highway, and the night air outside Incheon is colder than you expected. Or maybe you're just tired enough to feel every little annoying detail â the chill against the glass, growl of the engine, reflection of the lights glares, and the weight of what's gnawing at you inside sitting heavily in your heart.
ButâŚstill awake enough to register the fact that Yoo Jimin is driving with one hand on the wheel (like a self-proclaimed cool adult she has always wanted), the other tapping lighting against her thigh to some song on the radio. It's a far cry from the same girl a few years back cowering in her room and chewing her lip raw over a driving test the next morning.
âHowâs living abroad like?â
âUhâŚâ Your eyes are still closed. âIt feels like it takes all of my life saving just to survive for a week.â
âOh come onâŚthat PhD of yours can afford you some fine things in life, amirite?â
â...Sure.â And you sink down further to your seat. âYou can say that.â
"Ok then, show off. How long are you gonna be here?"
"Seven days."
"That's short, what the heck?" Her voice drops slightly.
"It's enough for a rest."
"Hell the fuck it is!" Jimin yelps. "You don't have enough time to go to Seoul for a small trip! Checking out the cute coffee shops in the morning and the fun bars at night! You're missing out!"
Enjoying Korea is the last thing you think you deserve to have, but letâs not say it out loud. Instead: "Peace and quiet is enough for me, really."
She glances at you, studying your expression for a moment. And then she slowly nods and looks back at the road.
"Well lucky for you, I'm also free for 7 days."
You hum. "Why? What are you up to? Did your firm give you a vacation?â
âSorta? I do use my PTO for a few days too. Looks like my work was significant enough for my boss to let me chill.â
âWell thatâs nice. How are you going to spend them?â
"Well, I gotta hang out with my tired best friend before I get married, of course."
âAh sure sureâŚwaiââ
It does take you a few seconds to register, and when you do, you have never gotten up upright than you ever have in your life. "The fuck what now?" And that seems to be the reaction she wants from you. (Clearly satisfied, she is.)
"Yeah, I am getting married."
âŚRight, so where is the punchline?
"And I'm being legit."
Ok, there isn't one. Damn. Your brain cycles through possibilities as if you're eligible to review the unfortunate guys who get charmed by her. Which poor idiot signed up for that without knowing the boogers sheâ
Anyway, you lean back to your seat. "Ok then."
"That's it?" "The fuck you want me to say?"
"I don't know, be happy for me?" "Ok fine, congrats."
"That's so dry." "Bitch, you announced it like a Friday morning."
"Well, it's technically Fridâ" "Don't even, Yoo Jimin."
She huffs. "You're not even surprised?"
"No, I was." "Was?"
"âŚyeah." You clear your throat.
She narrows her eyes. "Bitch, you sat up like someone zapped you."
"It's a reflex." "Yeah, reflex. Sure."
"You say insane things all the time. My body reacts before my brain does."
She lets out a loud laugh. "You're so mean!"
You look out to the window, ignoring the small smile at the corner of your lips, and the churning stomach that paradoxically feels like it's tied in knots.
"Do I know this guy? Also, is he fine with you hanging out with me like this?"
"What?â She teases. "Are you curious?"
"Concerned."
"For him?" "Damn right. Now answer the question."
And Jimin laughs again. Gosh, this is going to happen for the rest of the trip, isn't it?
-
Apparently yes.
And it starts with the next day when she unapologetically drags you out of the couch you crashed out of exhaustion. So much for getting used to jet lag. Also, couldn't she wake you up with something else rather than a pillow whacking to your face?
"Wake the fuck up, bestie!"
You groan into the couch cushion. The light bleeds in through the half-open blinds and cuts across the living room in pale strips. Your phone has been running off with alarms that you set it up every 15 minutes out of habit â years of early classes, work shifts, and other things.
None of them compare to Jimin.
"Wake upppppp!"
You begrudgingly peel one eye open (not without voicing out your disdain with a groan) and see Jimin hovering above you. A far cry from the show off girl last night, her hair is messy, wearing the oversized sport uniform T-shirt slipping off one shoulder that clearly has been overworn (she stole this shirt from you one time she forgot to bring it.)
"Let's go hang out today!"
"UghâŚwhat time is itâŚ?"
"It's morning time!" "One, that is a terrible pun. And two, that is not a time."
She nudges your knee with her foot. âGet up.âÂ
âIs this how you wake him up too?â âNo, just you.â
You drag a hand down your face, and finally feel the ache in your neck from sleeping on her couch. The blanket she forced on you last night is twisted around your waist. At least the caveat is that her apartment does smell nice â a faint of fabric softener and the aroma of something orange(?) that she sprays.
Maybe it is a good thing that she refuses to let you book a motel. Also, your parents are out of town, so staying at their place alone wouldâve been⌠too quiet. ("You don't have a space." âYou can sleep on the couch.â âItâs better than a motel, I paid top money for this couchâ) Ugh, her reasoning is still scary and effective as before.
You check your phone. She grins too brightly for 8 a.m.
"Ok, ok, fine." You sigh. "Where are we going?"
-
Yeah, if you still have your free will to run (and if she wasn't your best friend), you definitely would've gone somewhere else but Yuldong Park.
(Why. On Saturday. Ugh.)
Ok, the park does (mostly) nothing wrong â it still looks the same as years ago, with the wide blue open sky and the lake that reflects it, the paved walking paths under the luscious and green canopy where people are walking. Some are couples holding hands, some walking with dogs, and kids running around without a care. Itâs a welcome noise for sure, a far cry from living alone in your modest apartment where the loudest thing most nights was the hum of your refrigerator and your own thoughts.
The thing the park does wrong, however, is that stupid motherfucking bungee tower that stands there like an evil's lair.
Your stomach squeezes inwards more and more as Jimin parks. Unlike you, who roll off the chair like a slug, she hops out like she's arriving at Lotte Park.
"Stop being a pussy and come on!" Jimin laughs.
It's actually really nice and sunny, but you feel hyper fixated to the cold air that sting your nose, to the wind brushing against your ears, and the very audible creak when someone jumps that followed by the snaps and recoils of the elastic cord (you're probably just being a bitch, but it is that scary!)
"I am not being a pussy." Yep, totally. You're wearing long sleeves and trackpants.
"You definitely were back then." She reminds you now. "You were literally shaking."
"I did not."
"You were praying."
"I don't pray." "You did that day."
You glare at her.
Sheâs wearing fitted black leggings and a cropped athletic jacket today. Her hair tied high, and sunglasses resting on top of her head. She looks like she was born for this. A little reminder again for those at the back â you're wearing long sleeves and trackpants. Good to know that air resistance will (maybe) do its job.Â
She looks genuinely happy. âCâmon! Smile, dummy. Itâs our hang out time!â Because youâre here.
TruthfullyâŚyou tell yourself you donât deserve to smile.Â
Not right now.Â
You shouldnât be here pretending everything is fine. Hell, you shouldnât be fleeing back to Korea right now. You shouldnât get to stand under a blue sky like nothing cracked inside you months ago, when you hand in your drop out forms.
But she keeps on tugging your sleeve with her wide grin. âLetâs go!â And you couldnât help but momentarily forget the demons in your head.
Because you just found your impending doom, where the climb up stairs feels endless. Each metal step clangs under your weight. The higher you go, the louder the wind gets, the canopy becomes a blanket of green, and the lake shrinks beneath you. Only halfway up, and your palms are pooling with sweat. Holy shit, yeah, maybe this is your punishment.
"Ya, are you okay?"
See, that should've been your cue to belt out at her and demand to just go back down to the ground. You could admit that you donât feel steady in more ways than one. But a part of you screams: Things in life have already gone wrong. What else can be worse than that?
"No, I'm fine. Let'sâŚletâs just do it."
You're totally not fine when you finally reach the platform. The open air hits you fully. Nothing between you and the drop but a staff member, the railings and trust issues.
"Holyâ" Jimin walks straight to the edge and leans over casually. "It's higher than I remember."
"Don't fucking lean, damn it."
"You still scared?" "Bitch, of course!"
You need a distraction, quick! UhâŚok, the I-beam is a good choice of material for a non-habitable structure like this tower. At least it won't fall over with adequate support. What else..oh, painting it blue is pretty nice â hopefully it was painted with fire-resistant and rust-resistant coating. And uhhâŚoh, the wind is a bit nicer now, with how it presses her jacket against her body, and the fitted fabric does absolutely nothing to minimise her well-endowed shape.
âŚok, maybe too much distraction. "âŚYou, of all people, should not jump."
"Eh? Why?" "It's inappropriate."
"Huh? How?"
"You'reâŚ" you gesture vaguely at her chest. "âŚoverqualified for high-impact sports."
A crow caw from afar. And her eyebrows lift.
"Did living aboard make you a perv?" "No! I'm justâ don't think that way, I'm being concerned about you."
She steps closer and slaps your back hard, and you nearly lurch forward toward the railing. "You could've said I have a nice body."
"Like I said, I am not a perv. And may I remind you that you are getting married soon?" She was about to retort back when the staff called her to strap in. (Wait, did she just sigh?) And of course, like before, she gives no hesitation nor visible nerves (or none at all) as Jimin steps into the harness like her usual Monday.
You watched her from behind stepping towards the edge. Steady. Calm. And annoyingly fearless. (Don't cue the song.) The countdown starts: Three, two, one. And she jumps with a child's enthusiasm.
Your heart spikes violently when her body drops out of sight, and quickly rushes to the edge before you can stop yourself. The cord stretches, snapping tight. She rebounds upward, hair flying, laughing mid-air like gravity is optional, followed by a loud "WOOOOOOOOO!"
Of course she is fine. She's flushed and glowing when they pull her back up. "Gosh, that was so fucking fun."
She turns to you. "Your turn."
Oh boy.
Unlike the fearless Jimin, it takes all of your courage and self-chanting to step toward the harness. Your limbs feel strangely disconnected as the staff strap you in tight around your ankles, then waist. An extra pull to the strap just to be secure, and even the wedgie doesn't make your fear go away (well, it sort of does.)
At the corner of your eyes, Jimin has both her hands into fists and cheers for you. Her pout, at least, makes you forget about the situation for a bit. Finally gaining control of your breathing, you step toward the edge.
You look down.
Ah shit, it's all coming back now.
The lake looks distant. The blanket of green canopy looks even more like one colour of green like when the rendering is on 200p. And just like the slow ass render, you freeze on the spot.
You quickly snap out of it when Jimin cheers loudly. "YOU GOT THIS, YOU COWARD! THIS SHOULDN'T BE AS HARD AS YOUR PHD!"
You hate that your pride reacts before your fear. Nodding once, you just step off the platform. But was it really a cheer when she just called you a cowâ
The world drops violently and, "HOLY SHIT IT'S GOING DOWN SO FAST, FUCK!!!! YOO JIMIN, YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!"
Your stomach lurches upward into your throat. The wind roars past your ears so loud it drowns everything else. And your hands clench instinctively to the safety strap. Your mouth goes wild with a mantra of cry for help.Â
(And you donât realise it, but the demons havenât gone backâŚyet..)
"OH SHIT! OH SHIT! OH FUCKIN' WHY IS IT SO TAâ WHAT THE FUâ"
Admittingly, it was funny when you think back, even more so when the cord catches and your body just jerks upward. If Jimin is fearless, you are just weightless. Like a fish getting pulled up to the boat when the staff haul you back up to the platform.
Ok, legs? Shaky, but still here. Arm? Still here. Head? A bit dazed but still here. Ok, sick. You're alive.
Jimin just cackles at the recording when you walk toward her. And instead of feeling annoyed, your heart beats erratically at hearing how full her laugh is. Well, you do, even if it feels temporary, and even if the demon of guilt slowly creeps back.
You hope the tower still stays up if you decide to come back.
-
From Wikipedia:
Yuldong Park had a bungee jumping tower that was 45 metres (148 ft) tall, but operations stopped around 2018, and it was taken down at the end of 2024.
-
Bold of you to assume she doesn't whack your face again the next day. This time at your belly.
You fold in half on instinct, air punching out of your lungs like she just drop-kicked you off a cliff. (Wait, don't give her that idea, she might do it.)
"You fucking piece of shâ"
"Language, Mr. Foreigner-ish." Jimin stands over you, one hand holding the pillow, the other holding the edge of the blanket she just ripped off your body. "Get up."
You groan and turn your face deeper into the couch cushion. And yes, it still ruins your neck even after she claims (multiple times) that it's "orthopedic". Well, she can find those orthopedic(k)-heads and whack them instead.
"What time is it�"
"Time for some soul-cleansing."
"I didn't sin."
"And I'm not either, but here I am."
Fair.
You drag a hand over your face. It feels like a repeat of yesterday â room flooded with late-morning light, half-drawn curtains, pale streaks of lighting peeking through; something citrusy is in the air, she sprayed that damn mist again.
Oh, and she's already dressed. Long skirt, light blouse, her long hair tied back at the nape of her neck, minimal makeup, glossy lips.
"âŚDidn't you say you're taking days off? Sudden new clients you have to meet? I thought you said that the project is doing ok? Or going somewhere with your fiance? I need a break from your annoying ass right now."
"âŚit's Sunday church, you dunce."
"âŚNo." "Yes."
"Why?" "My fiance is busy with work today, so Iâm dragging you instead.â
"But I stopped." "Well, just go look at the architecture there or something."
"But I want to sleeâ" "And I'm leading Bible study today."
2 for 2, you jolted up again, this time from your couch. "You?"
"Yes."
"You? Leading?" "Yes." A little sweeter this time, she is.
"The fuck you do?" "Nothing?"
"Bro, that is worse."
-
After being in the practice since you started your Master's, you and Jimin have come to appreciate how cool the Bundang Church is.
You thought you would get sick of the theatre-like layout after 5 years of attending lectures back when you're still studying for your Bachelors, but you have to admit, it works. The space rises in tiers like an auditorium, and there is a central stage lit with fluorescent lights and a giant projectile screen at the back. The seating arcs gentling toward the stage, and it feels expansive, almost dramatic, but not cold. Thereâs something truly oddly homely about it.
Or maybe thatâs just nostalgia playing tricks on you.
It's one of the largest Roman Catholic buildings on the Asian continent (Jimin boasted one time through a call), yetâŚit doesn't overwhelm you. It's a mix of modern and Gothic, so none of the stained glasses or intricated walls and columns, but just clean structural lines and brick wallsâ
Ah. So much for a break after that entire disaster of a life implosion.
"Dummy, we're not at a site visit." Jimin nudges your side.
"No, just wondering how tall the auditorium is." What a try hard."
Well, props to her for pointing out a cause why you're back here. "Anyway, where is the session?"
"On the stage. It's a small group anyway."
"Yeah, like you would present for a full house." "Hey! I am capable!"
Sure, sure. Back then, you two used to sit in the third row from the back (after sneaking away from the parents who sat near the front), whispering nonsense and timing how long Father would stretch the speech. Youâd both pretend to bow your heads while actually passing notes. And she once bet you five thousand won that she could recite the whole Psalm section faster.
She lost.
Now she's walking to the stage like she owns it, and your curiosity rises through the roof. (The auditorium is 9m in height. Nice.) She looks like she has a great standing in the society, and honestly, good for her, truly. Youâre really proud of what she has worked herself to be.
You? Pretty much fucked.Â
Your casual student assistant job for a tyrant shitshow of an architectural firm is going nowhere, you got no proper standing in life like Jimin does, everyday is just you chasing the bills living in a foreign country by yourself, every day chasing deadlines that donât even carry your name on the credits. Sometimes (or all the time you two call each other) you do wonder if Jimin thrives in your predicament better than you.
(With her optimism? Most likely.)
"Anyway, please address me as Katarina while in session."
âŚsure. Whatever floats her boat. As long as she doesnât start interrogating you in front of children. You thought she would have asked already. Yesterday, maybe. Or during lunch.
But she hasnât.
That freaks you out more than anything ever.
She smooths down her sleeve, posture straightening slightly as she approaches down. Thereâs a confidence to her movements that didnât exist when she was the mud-covered kid who dared you to eat dirt behind the convenience store. The main stage is already illuminated. A semicircle of chairs arranged for the kids, with a chair in the middle, presumedly for Jimin. The parents filter in with their children and exchange greetings. Huh, maybe Jimin has become a big shot here. Quite a crowd huh.
"Thank you so much for leading today, Miss Katarina." One mother gives gratitude.
"It's my pleasure, ma'am." Jimin replies with that polished smile. Shoulders back. Chin lifted. You almost applaud.
You have no intention of attending the session â youâre not twelve. And you havenât really attended properly since you left Korea. So you linger near the aisle instead, which caught the eyes of a few parents.
"And you are�"
"Hello." You lightly bow. "Her friend, visiting from abroad."
"Oh wow, exciting! What do you do?"
"Working for a firm."
"What field?"
"Architecture."
"Oh wow, just like Miss Katarina! You must've been making good money, right?"
â...you can say that, yes.â
âOh! I remember you now. Miss Katarina speaks highly of you!â
âWow, did she?â
The questions keep stacking, (Salary. Overseas life. How competitive is the field? Do you design skyscrapers? Did you get to have tea with the high class? Do you miss Korea?) and far out, it's starting to feel invasive. This shouldn't be how Jimin finds out youâ
CLAP. "Ok! Maâam, sir, I will take it from here. Thank you!"
You glance over at Jimin who is very jolly, but she's already looking in your direction as she announced, which gets the parents to finally tidy themselves up to leave. Huh, maybe Jimin has grown. Thereâs something annoyingly mature about her social awareness and her way of diffusing before things escalate.
Maybe you did underestimate her.
Maybe you did.
Her fiance mustâve seen this every Sunday, huh. Have to admit, you do feel quite envious of him then. (Or her, you donât know who you truly envy.)
When the parents leave the space, the kids settle into their seats and exchange greetings, and it does remind you of times where you and Jimin sit together on the corner of the semicircle. Jimin sits on her central chair and guides them into the opening prayer.
Maybe you should pray. Mhm. Yeah, just once in a while.
What should you pray about? About your luck in a better job? Eh, you pray too much for that. About making new friends? UrmâŚhard to get any time for that when you keep getting overtime work. What about a lucky lotto ticket?...tempting.
Maybe just⌠pray for Jimin. For her upcoming marriage. For her happiness. It feels easier to wish good things for her than to ask for anything for yourself.
You lower your head.
She clears her throat, smiles. And immediately, you regret your generosity from five minutes ago.
"Yo."
You choke instantly. How the fuck none of the kids laugh at this? How long has she started praying like that? Is this what you call the Generation Gap?
âDear Lord, thank You for bringing us here safely todayâŚâ
How the fuck she is so calm and composed?
ââŚand please grant patience,â she continues evenly, âespecially for a certain idiot in this building who thinks I wonât see him laughing.â
You don't realise a wheeze escape from you before she points it out.
Well that is a jab, Yoo Jimin. Unbelievable.
(Maybe coming back to Korea is not so bad, after all.)
-
Todayâs session: Sincerity and Guilt
The aim of our charge is love that issues from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith.
1 Timothy 1:5, New Testament, 378.
For my iniquities have gone over my head; like a heavy burden, they are too heavy for me.
Psalm 38:4, New Testament, 500.
-
You wake up to the hum of the engine and the faint vibration of tires rolling over the road. Wait, hold the fuck up â this is not Jimin's couch. Well, the stiffness when you wake up is still there, the scent of orange mist is still here (why the hell does she have this mist sprayer everywhere), and Yoo Jimin is here. Phew.
Well, you're in the passenger seat, and she's driving. Not phew.
Hair tied up in a low twin bun, sunglasses sit on her nose despite the sun barely being fully up. Just like before, one hand rests confidently on the steering wheel, while the other taps absentmindedly against it in rhythm with the music playing low from the speakers. Safe to say, she's more awake than you right now.
You squint at the windshield, and trees blur past you. "Where the fuck are weâŚ"
She glances at you, and her lips fail to contain her amusement. "Good morning, sleepyhead."
"What time is it?" "It'sâŚ6."
"A.M?!" "Uhuh."
"Are you selling me off?"
"Hey, I tried to wake you up multiple times while I was packing. So this was the best next move."
"Hold up." At this point, she is skipping too many steps for you to even process. "Packing?"
She nods toward the back without taking her eyes off the road. âCamping gear.â
True to her words, there is a cooler wedged between two duffel bags. A folded tent. Fishing rods. A stack of blankets. A grocery bag filled with food. You can only stare at it speechlessly, and then back at her.
So much for having free will.
"Now," she starts quickly, already getting defensive. "Before you yell at me. Yes, you will do that, I know. I just want to maximise our time together! You have like 4 days left!"
âŚAt least she has good intentions. Or you're just giving up arguing with her at this point â her plans sound more exciting than you just lounging around even more like a sloth. So you just sink back to the seat and close your eyes again. (And also pretending to not feel the growing excitement in your chest.)
A good little manageable nap later, you open your eyes to murmurs. And then at some point, you hear her voice clearer, soft and different.
âYeah, weâre almost there. No, heâs still asleepâ Ya, you should be taking my side! I did it with good intention!â
You blink. Who is she talking to?
âThis blunt idiot will just lay down on the floor all day, and that is so boring, honey!â
âJimin,â a voice from the other side says. âBabe, the more you describe it, the more I think itâs a kidnap.â
OhâŚher fiance.
Eh, letâs just close your eyes a second longer. This conversation is pretty entertaining..well it was until: âNo, itâs fine. Iâll make him carry the heavy stuff. Obviously.âÂ
Her laugh sounds different than whenever sheâs with you. Not brazen or a cackle. MoreâŚwomanly. Still, it doesn't constitute the fact that she admits that you will be her porter. And far out, she notices immediately when you open your eyes. âHey, youâre awake.â
âOf course I do, when Iâm being subjected to carry all of that shit behind us.â
She lowers the volume slightly, then glances at you before speaking into the phone again. âHeâs on the phone. Want to say hi?â
Your brain is definitely not ready for this.
She smacks your shoulder with her free hand while keeping the other hand on the wheel. âAt least say hi. Donât be rude.â
âŚSheâs not wrong. âAhem, uhâŚhey man, nice to meet you.â
Thereâs a brief, polite greeting from the other end. Friendly. Normal. Nothing threatening. Just a man youâve never met but who apparently knows about you from your best friend. Words have been exchanged âweather, work (not telling him everything, of course), how much of a headache Jimin has been â that is a joke, and other random things.
âNice to finally talk to you. Hopefully we get to have a can of beer together.â Oh right, and you both love Asahi Dry.
âLikewise man.â You chuckle. âThank you for choosing Jimin.â
And itâs over.
She hangs up and smiles faintly. âSee? That wasnât hard.â
You turn back towards the windshield, and a while later, the Yuldong Park sign appears as the car passes through. Sheâs not dragging you back for another round of bungee jumping, right?
You turn toward her in suspicion, but before you can accuse her of attempted murder, she signals and turns into a newly paved entrance you donât recognise.
"Why are weâŚ" "You'll see."
Today you learn: there's a campsite now. Close to the lake, actually.
Wait, this is kinda cool, what the heck. They have large tensile shelter lining up on the gravel, neatly sectioned tent grounds clean vegetations along the road, and there's a fucking proper cabin for the toilet. Oh yeah, this is definitely not here when you left.
âThis is new,â you mutter.
âOpened two years ago,â she says proudly. âI booked us a tent spot. Youâre welcome.â
This is too much of a surprise for a morning. The lake greets you again with the glints under the morning sun. The air smells like wet grass and pine. Families are already setting up tents. A couple nearby struggles with poles while arguing in whispers. Everything feels so unfamiliar, and you had too many bad experiences with the unknown.
Honestly, you expected to feel guilty again for being here, and for even having a thought of enjoying this when you feel like you havenât earned it. But Jimin looks elated, proud of this little surprise she concocted behind your back, and happy that youâre here to see it.
Maybe you can enjoy itâŚyeah, might as well. So you stretch when you step out of the car, spine cracking faintly. Fuck, that feels great.
"Ok, old man. Stop showing your age."
"Look at you." You point out her stretching pose. "Stop showing your age too, dummy."
She grins.
-
Camping with Jimin is exactly how you remember it back then: a fucking mess.
She insists on assembling the tent herself, but then pushes the work towards you anyway. Well, not all of it, you just unroll the fabric first and flatten it against the ground while Jimin fumbles with the poles.
"Did you check if everything's here, Jimin?" You yawn.
"Of course, duh. I'm the most meticulous girl ever."
One minute later, she's staring at two identical poles and probably forgot how they work. You can hear the mutters under her breath, rambling about what the fuck they do. You look over to find her flipping one pole around, then the other, then squinting at the instruction sheet like it owns her floor plans and a section. "Jimin, you're practicing architecture as your career, by the way. Top of your cohort, too."
"Reading floor plans are easier than reading Ikea instructions. Be patient, this kid."
âI fear for the lawsuits coming at you.â âShhhh.â
You crawl over and brush her shoulder, reading the instruction while taking one of the poles from her hand. "Ok, make it stand. I will do the cross support."
The pieces snap together with eases like the sound of breaking spines. Jimin, reading the cue, slides the pole through the sleeve of the tent after you finish it. Together, you lift the structure upright. The frame arches slowly, fabric stretching tight as you secure it into the ground. Your hands get dirty pressing the stakes in. Jimin struggles with one stubborn corner as she plants the stake and then â instead of using her foot â leans her entire body weight on it.
"Ya, don't just lean your melons to it." "It's an accident!"
She pushes harder. The stake finally sinks in and she nearly falls forward. You catch her by the elbow automatically, because you have always been.
She freezes, which makes you freeze. "I get that you're very excited to be productive during our 7 days, but far out, don't overexert it."
Jimin straightens immediately and brushes grasses off her knees like nothing happened. "I had itâŚ"
"I know, I'm just telling you."
When the tent finally stands properly â the fabric fully stretched out, poles standing proudly and strong, and stable enough that it won't collapse after one touch â you both step back to admire it. It's simple, a two person tent, yet you feel more accomplished than the multiple times you have attended the work sites.
And it feels smaller than you remember.
"Not bad." Jimin starts.
"Duh, I mostly built it." "Shaddup, I put equal contributions to it."
"No, you kept leaning on the pole and almost made it collapse multiple times." You nudge her shoulder.
"Are you calling me fat?" "Now you're just twisting my words as usual."
She kicks your ankle lightly. "You didn't even deny it, perv."
"Ok, I am not a perv, and I did not say anything about your chest." "When did I say anything about chest?"
The bantering doesn't stop until the tent collapses after a pigeon lands on it.
-
About an hour later, you two finally fish.
(Let's not think about how many times the tent collapsed because one of you âaccidentallyâ nudged a pole mid-argument.)
You walk down toward the water where the dock is, with the rods balanced on your shoulders. The lake is still calm and barely rippling. The breeze carries that clean, damp scent of freshwater and pine. It cools the sweat at the back of your neck, softens the lingering irritation from assembling the tent for the third time. Jimin, from behind, carries the basket filled with a box of bait, and some drinks. She deserves to carry the heavier stuff with all the shenanigans she caused.Â
(Ok, you're not that mean. She just wants to flex her power. Her words, not yours.)
Jimin kneels first, and opens the bait box.
"You still remember how to fish?"
"Probably not." "Lovely, I can teach you again!"
"Yay. How fun." "Don't use that tone with me, mister."
You crouch beside her anyway, taking the hook between your fingers. The worm twists slightly as you thread it through. You did say you forgot, but your hands move like they never did. The motions are almost fluid, precise, steady â muscle memory sliding back into place without permission. Well, almost fluid, because your hand gets a bit sweaty with the laser-focused look from Jimin behind you.
"Jimin, you're scaring me."
"You said you forgot." She pouts.
"âŚmaybe I am built different." "I think I got goosebumps hearing you saying slangs."
"Ok, rude."
She laughs, loudly and full. Hell, her shoulders shake a little after hearing a very corny joke â which makes your heart leap a mile again whenever she laughs. You just shove the rod towards her and sigh. "Here, now don't try to fall."
"I won't." She gets up and stretches (and with an unnecessary old man groan).
âYou sound like that with him too?â you ask dryly.
âWith my fiancĂŠ?â She grins. âYes. He says Iâm like a grandma.â
âHeâs correct.â
âJealous?â
âOf him? Never.â (You do.)
She walks to the edge of the dock, winding up too dramatically like there are multiple cameras around, she casts the bait.
It lands pathetically about 5 feet away.
"Lovely casting, Champion of the Lake." You clap slowly.
"Shush."
You cast yours â smoother, cleaner, and more streamlined. The line arcs perfectly into the water like the Harbour Bridge.
You can't stop the smirk on your face. "Should I teach you instead?"
"Show off, tsk." Jimin pouts. "Bet I catch one first."
"Loser cooks the fish." "And starts the fire."
The dock creaks softly. Leaves rustle. Somewhere in the distance, someone laughs. The water ripples gently around the floating bobbers. Jimin hums under her breath.
âYou know,â she says suddenly, eyes still on the water, âI made him try fishing once.â
You glance sideways. âAnd?â
âHe got bored after ten minutes. Said it was too quiet.â
You huff. âWeak.â
âI told him you could sit still for hours,â she continued lightly. âBack then, at least.â
Right, back then. âWell, tell him again that I still can.â
âYou competitive ass.â
And it's back to childhood again, where Jimin doesn't have a wedding at the end of the trip, and where you don't have to figure out how to tell her. Just an over-the-top competition about basically nothing, where 90% of it is Jimin rambling about her time with her fiance and ways to make it âinterestingâ.
It's simple.
-
The day ends with you sitting on the camping chair and sipping on hot tea while watching Jimin trying her best with the "fish on a stick".Â
It was burned to fuck.
-
The next day, she decides that she refuses to accept defeat.
âYou know what we havenât done yet?â Jimin asks through a mouthful of toothpaste, words bubbling and distorted as she brushes aggressivelyâŚin public.
Youâre beside her, equally half-dead, foam at the corner of your lips. âWhat?â you mumble, spitting and rinsing to the gravel. âAre we committing a crime now?â
"No, we're biking."
You freeze mid-wipe.
Your brain lags for a second before supplying the image: the rental bicycles lined up near the trail entrance yesterday. Rows of metal frames gleaming under the sun, and bright plastic helmets dangling off handlebars. The lake behind them looks deceptively calm and inviting.
It probably invites you to a comedy show with you and Jimin.
"You remember back then?"
"That was years ago," she spits out. "I have more practice now."
"You ram straight to the bush."
"It's not going to happen this time," She rinses her mouth again and glares at you. âTrust.â
You donât.
Yet somehow, fifteen minutes later, youâre fastening a helmet strap under your chin like this was always the plan. Many times you have wondered at some point in life that it was a mistake to sign a lifetime contract as Yoo Jiminâs babysitter.Â
The trail curves along the lake, paved smooth and wide. Morning sun filters through the trees, scattering light across the trail. Families ride past casually. An elderly couple pedals in steady paces.
Now, let's see how you both fare when it comes to biking.
You? Mount the bike easily, and push off in one fluid motion.
Jimin? Nah. Well⌠at least she lasts 10 more seconds before the handlebar wobbles.
âWhy is it moving like this?!â she yells.
âBecause you are.â âI am stable!â
She is aggressively not stable.
You circle back, riding slowly beside her now. One hand hovering near the back of her seat without actually touching it just in case. âFor someone who flexes about Pilates,â you comment, âyour core is suspiciously dogshit.â
"Shut up, Mr. One Try."
And just like the old video on your phone, the first few attempts sucks (First one, which is the current one: Wobble. Second one, Wobble. Third oneâyeah, you know how this goes.)
By the tenth time, she's actually doing it. Her legs pedalling a bit more stable than before, her shoulders tense but very determined, and the handlebar less wobbly. You just walk behind her now and push your own bike with one hand, the other still hovering near her seat. And for a moment, it was perfect. She looked confident, focused, and you're very proud of how far she has gone since back then.
And then you finally remembered what happened after the old video cut off.Â
A pigeon. Yep. A fucking pigeon.
Shot across the path, wings flapping violently, aiming straight for her face like it is fully locked in to its target.
Karinaâs scream was instant, ear-splitting. âNOOOOâ!â
She swerved wildly. You lunged, but oops! Too late! She toppled straight into you, and both of you crashed onto the grass in a messy heap. The bike clattered to the side, rolling away like it wanted no part of this mess.
You groaned, blinking up at the sky, only to find Karina sprawled across your chest. Her helmet knocked slightly askew, strands of hair falling into her flushed face. Her hands had fisted in your shirt on instinct, and her wide eyes were still darting around like the pigeon might swoop back for round two.
ââŚAre you okay?â you asked, trying very hard not to notice how close her lips were to yours (and also clenching your ass to not just laugh at her).
Her grip tightened. âI hate birds.â
Yeah, you canât stop smiling at her. "I genuinely forgot that the great Yoo Jimin is scared of government drones."
âShut up,â she muttered, smacking your chest lightly.
But she didnât move.
And that was the problem. Because lying there with her weight pressing down on you, warmth seeping through your clothes, and her lashes brushing her cheeks as she blinked at youâit was too much. Way too much. She has someone waiting for her at the altar damn it, get yourself together.
You had laughed alone in your airplane seat, without knowing dĂŠjĂ vu works like thisâŚexcept this time she's older, and so are you.
"Jimin, get up, you're crushing me."
She still doesn't get up immediately â her eyes meet yours, and there's something you can't exactly point out in her gaze, but it feelsâŚserious.
A cyclist passes by and coughs awkwardly, which makes Jimin scramble off you so fast she almost trips again.
"Don't say anything." "Oh, I wonât."
"I will tell everyone you screamed like a bitch." "Right, I wonder who screamed again."
You sit up, rubbing the back of your head, watching her inspect the bike. At this point, Jimin will still be bad at this in the unforeseen future, and of course if you come back again, you will still be the idiot jogging behind her with your hand hovering, ready to catch her.
Look, she's pedalling agaâ Ah, fucking hell, she's wobbling again. "YA, JIMIN, DON'T RUN OFF ON YOUR OWN!"
âSTOP YELLING, YOUâRE DISTRACTING MEââ and she almost runs towards the lake.
-
The sun dips low behind the trees by the time you two drag yourselves back to the campsite. Your legs feel like someone replaced the bones with wet cement. Between having to chaperone Jimin who kept biking off the paths and throwing yourself off the bungee jumping tower again with her insistence (less terrifying this time, which is both impressive and concerning), your body screams to give it a break.
You collapse onto the foldable camping chair, and it is far more comfier than her couch.
âDonât sit yet,â she says, already crouching by the fire pit with alarming enthusiasm. âHelp me with the wood.â
âI deserve a break.â
âYou're going to make a pretty woman do the work?â
You stare at her. âYes.â
"You are so mean."
"Boo hoo, cry me a river, Jimin."
She ignores you and crouches by the fire pit, arranging the wood with far too much confidence for a girl who nearly crashed into a tree. You just poke at the kindling with a wooden stick that is luckily long enough for you to not get up. The campsite hums softly around you â distant giggles from another tent, the faint clinks of cookware, the crickets warming up, and the whooshing of the gentle wind from behind. The lake reflects the last streaks of oranges in the sky.
Down here, the fire glows a bright orange, and you both fall quiet. It's the first real quiet of the whole time you're with Jimin.
Just the sound of burning wood.
Jimin sits cross-legged, chin resting on her knee. Firelight paints her face in warm gold, shadows dancing along her cheekbones. Her helmet flattened her hair earlier; now itâs messy in a way that makes her look younger. (Or maybe that's just the memory creeping in now.)
She looks tired, but her smile lingers.
"This whole trip was really fun." she starts.
You watch a spark drift upward. âMhm.â Understatement of the year.
"You, somehow, are still better at almost everything even though you said you don't remember."
You shrug, leaning back on your palms. âMaybe itâs genetic.â
She scoffs. âBoooo.â
Silence folds over you again, thicker this time. The fire pops. You focus on it because looking at her too long feels dangerous tonight. After everything â the biking, the falling, the way she laughed when you both nearly rolled down the grass, not to mention all the past few days spending your time with her â something underneath it all feels⌠you can't really describe it, but it's surely not the groans and complaints like you did back on the plane.
âOh.â She reaches for her phone. âI should finally show you my fiancĂŠâs face.â
Your heart palpitates more than you should. "O-oh, sure. Gotta see my fellow Asahi Dry fanatic."
She scrolls through her gallery, thumb hesitating for half a second before stopping. Then she turns the screen toward you. "That's my fiancĂŠ."
In the photo, theyâre seated at what looks like a brunch cafĂŠ. Sunlight pours through wide windows. Heâs leaning slightly forward, smiling. Not too wide, not cocky. Just⌠steady. His hand is comfortably wrapped around hers across the table.
You sigh out of relief, yet your feet keep shuffling.
"Good look, chill, subtly alcoholic like me." You hand her phone back. "Solid pick, Yoo Jimin."
"Solid?"
âWhat? You want âreinforced concreteâ?â
She snorts. âYouâre so annoying.â But she's smiling faintly.
You lean back on your palms, staring into the fire.
âHe treats you well?â âYeah.â
âPatient?â âMhm.â
âRich?â
She slaps your thigh. "Shut up, you prick."
You chuckle. "Ok, then good job. You picked well."
The words taste strange in your mouth. And you feel like she can tell the bitterness of your tone with how she doesn't respond right away, just staring at the flames instead. After a moment, she speaks again. âHeâs⌠steady.â
You glance at her. âSounds like he does.â Hafta admitted that.
âHe doesnât panic,â she continues quietly. âEven when things get messy. He just thinks it through. Take responsibility. Don't run.â
Ok, thatâs a good man, yes.
âHeâs blunt sometimes,â she adds, a faint smile forming. âBut not in a bad way. Just⌠straightforward. And when he decides to do something, he works like crazy until itâs done. Even if it kills him.â
What the heck, please take care of your heaâ wait. Thatâs⌠familiar.
âHe remembers small things,â she continues. âLike what I order. Or when Iâm pretending Iâm not upset. And he gets annoyed when I skip meals.â
âŚHey, you used to do that back during exam periods.
âHeâs also not the loud type,â she says. âBut when he laughs, itâs real. And when heâs scared, he still jumps anyway.â
She keeps talking, unaware â or maybe even aware. âHe doesnât show off, but he always tries to carry the heavier stuff. And when he leaves, he always promises to update me about his whereabouts to not make me worry.â
Looking at her feels like youâre going to burn instead of looking at the fire pops. This is too ridiculous â coincidences happen. There are thousands of men like that in the world, yeah? Donât get too full of yourself.
âWell, I donât see red flags.â Your chuckle is so awkward.
She takes a whole breath. "I thought it would feel clearer."
You refuse to look at her. "What do you mean?"
âLike Iâd only see him. Only think about him. Thatâs what youâre supposed to do, right?â
Right...this doesnât sound good.
âBut itâs not like that.â She laughs softly, but it doesnât sound amused. âEvery time I look at him, thereâs⌠something in the way.â
"âŚhaving second thoughts?"
"No." She answers it too quickly. "âŚok, maybe."
"Jimin, that is not good."
"No, I do love him a lot. I really do. It's just that every time I look at him, there's something in the way."
Your eyebrows furrow as you look at her, but your inside is on high alert. "InâŚthe way?"
She turns toward you fully. "It's you."
The campsite noise feels farther away now.
âI canât look at him properly,â she admits. âNot fully. Because part of me keeps wondering what youâre doing. What youâre thinking. Why are you here? I was genuinely confused when your parents told me you're back here. I-I mean, Iâm happy that I can see you in person, of course, but why?"
You force a small scoff. âVacation. Obviously. Youâre reading too much into it.â
âNo,â she says quietly. âYouâre the one that is obvious.â
Your stomach drops slightly. âHow so?â
âYou always tell me what youâre doing. Even when you donât want to.â Her voice is calm but steady. âBut you didnât. Not for months. Then suddenly youâre here.â
Damn it. You thought you were smooth. âI just donât want to talk about work.â
âI know.â Her eyes donât leave you. âBut you are trying to hide it away from me.â
âJimin,â you say, voice firmer now, âcan we not?â
âNo.â
âYoo Jimin.â
She doesnât flinch.
âWhy are you really here?â
-
It was not a pleasant drive back the next day.
-
The moment you step back to her apartment, you know you have to tell her eventually, even though you have been dreading this moment since the plane took off.
After the dream, the reality follows.
You drop your bag by the entrance. It lands with a dull thud against the wooden floor. Jimin follows behind you, dragging the camping equipment in. Your body aches from five days of being outside and pretending you're still eighteen â biking, camping, falling, laughing, bungee jumping, just living life, really. But your body doesnât get to feel any of that. Because anxiety is overwhelming you.
Jimin moves around the apartment quietly â unpacking, wiping down the cooler, hanging the key. But she doesnât look at you.
It's fine, you tell yourself. The moment she asks, you tell yourself you will let her know, and she'll understand. Of course she will, it's your best friend.
Itâs Yoo Jimin.
The dork who used to put extra candies in your pockets during exam weeks. The girl who sat beside you at cram school until 10 p.m., both of you half-dead over mock exams, then walked home under flickering streetlights. The girl who understands that when you say something blunt, itâs because you donât know how to say it gently.
You basically live with her throughout your life. She'll get itâŚshe has too.
(Hopefully.)
"Sit down." She says without turning around. "Have some tea."
"Ok."
She sets two mugs down on the table. Steam curls upward between you like a fragile truce. She sits next to you. Too close.
"WhyâŚwhy did you really come back?"
The question hits harder than you expect. You thought you were ready. You really do. But you werenât. And you hate how you keep trying to deflect it. âWeâre doing this again?â
âYes.â
âJimin.â
âDonât âJiminâ me.â
You rub your face with both hands. âYouâre being nosy.â
She laughs once. âNosy? You flew back in the middle of March. Not summer. Not winter break. March. You never come back in March.â
"Impulsive decision, really."
"You're the last person to make decisions on impulse." She studies your place. "âŚsomething happened, didn't it?"
Your heart pounds once. Hard. Okay, this is it. Just say it. Sheâll understand. She will understand. She willâŚunderstandâŚPlease understand.
You let out a breath you didnât realize you were holding. "IâŚum, left."
"Left what?" "The program."
The silence is suffocating. Her expression is not helping in clearing the tension at all - it just freezes, like her brain is buffering.
âYou⌠what?â
âI left,â you repeat. âThe PhD.â
Her fingers tighten around her mug.
âYou mean⌠youâre on leave?â âNo.â
âYouâre transferring?â âNo.â
âThen what does âleftâ mean?â
Your throat feels dry. âIt means I dropped out.â
The words feel smaller in the room than they did in your head. You wait, bracing yourself for the version of her you expect â the soft one, the worried one. The one whoâll reach for your hand and ask if youâre okay. Just like back then when you two stayed up revising calculus and sheâd nudge your shoulder when you looked too tired, right?
Right?
"Why."
ThatâŚsounds more like an accusation than anything.
You blink. âIt wasnâtâŚworking out.â
âThatâs not an answer.â
âIâIâŚâ Your chest feels like it's compressing. "I wasâŚburnt out." You begin. âMy advisor changed. My project stalled. Funding got complicated. And I was swamped with working and juggling with this program. Iââ
âSo you quit?â
The sharpness in her tone makes you flinch. It's a far cry from your image of Jimin.
"Jimin, I didn't want to just wake up and quit," you say carefully. "It accumulated and I got burnt out, you have to understand."
"You? Burnt out? We went through CSAT exams, come on. Youâre tougher than this!" That disbelieving laugh of hers makes your stomach twist.
"Even steel bends and snaps under intense pressure!"
"You're the most stubborn person I know even when under pressure." "Iâm allowed to feel overwhelmed, Jimin."
"You don't give up just like this." "Apparently, I do."
"You got a full scholarship!" Her voice rises as she stands up abruptly, like what coming out of your mouth is blasphemous. âA. Full. Scholarship! You moved overseas. You get PAID to be overseas. You had such a golden opportunity that everyone in our school couldn't stop talking about. You were doing what we talked about since we were seventeen!â
âŚyou don't know how to feel about that outburst.
âYou think I donât know that?â you shoot back, defensive now. âYou think I donât replay that in my head every night?â
âWell, you should know that you sounds entitled as fuck right now, yeah? Then why would you throw it away?â
Ah, now you know how to feel: anger.
âI didnât throw it away!â you snap. âIt was fucking hard!â
âYou didnât try hard enough, then.â
All your efforts just got ripped in front of you. The demons finally come in full swing and douse you with the worst situation right now. "I didn't try hard enough?"
âYou had everything lined up,â she continues. âYou were ahead. You were building something.â
"Jimin, I was drowning in everything."
"You should've told me!"
"I don't want to make you worry!"
"Oh, so you just shut the fuck up and don't tell me?" She slams her hand to the counter. "You barely send me updates the past few months. Left me on read. And then you show up here like it's some motherfucking trip back to childhood?!"
How do you even respond to that? Well, you donâtâ she just keeps on going.
âYou have the past 5 days to tell me. 5 FUCKING DAYS, COME ON.â She aggressively scratches her head. âYou couldâve told me the moment you landed. You couldâve told me when we went bungee jumping. You couldâve told me after church. Fucking heck, you couldâve told me during camping!â
âI just donât know the right words toââ
âYouâre just fucking running away! You telling me at the last minute RIGHT NOW is the damn proof!â
You don't realise your tears have been falling for a while now. You thought she would say: Are you okay? But instead it's: Why did you ruin it?
âIf I knew you were going to do this,â she spits out, âI shouldâve tried harder for that scholarship.â
âExcuse me?â Your head jerks up. âAre you serious right now?â
âYou think I didnât want it?â she fires back. âYou think I didnât want to study architecture abroad too? I worked just as hard as you.â
You know she does. So much. âYou were the one who got chosen,â she says, her voice trembling. âSo I told myself thatâs fine. Iâll be happy for you. Youâll go. Iâll stay. Iâll build my life here, and let you know that I'm fine, that I can stand up after the loss of my dream."
She looks at you directly. "I fucking lived through you, wishing that it was me."
The confession makes your stomach twist.
âEvery update you sent â your studio projects, your professors, your exhibitions that you helped, all the contributions for your firm â I was so damn proud of you,â she continues. âI bragged about you. I told people you were brilliant. I was seriously your biggest supporter when people shit talk about you.â
Your throat burns.
"I fucking loved that about you," her voice becomes more ragged. âYour focus. Your drive. How you're standing up to yourself. Even when you were blunt and impossible.â
Loved. Past tense.
âAnd now youâre telling me you just⌠gave up?â
Something inside you cracks. âAre you stubborn? I didnât give up!â you shout. âI was exhausted! I was alone there! Do you know what thatâs like?!â
âAnd I wasnât alone here?â she fires back.
âHell the fuck no?! At least you had people! Your family, my family, your friends, our friends!â you argue. âI had no one over there. I had to learn English by myself. I had to adapt to a new culture. I had to get used to new neighbourhood. I couldnât eat my childhood food on days I crave them. Everyone is smarter and more competitive than me. The professors didn't give a shit if I got no sleep before critic days.â
"Again, you could've told me!"
"And again, I don't want you to see me failing!"
"It's far better than you crawling back like a bitch right now!"
âA BITCH?â your bare feeling spills out. âI missed sleep. I missed hang outs. I worked like a fucking dog. I studied like a fucking madman. I fucking clean the garbage room of the kitchen to get minimum wage. I had panic attacks in studio bathrooms. I lived with eating only one meal at a time. I cry in the corner of the train and feel so fucking embarrassed when stranger asked if I need help!â
She freezes slightly, but she doesnât soften.
âAnd you still walked away. You think I don't have it tough? It's just life!â
"You can't just say thatâŚ" You wipe your tears. "Even I can break down under intense expectations too!"
âSo you drop everything? Just like that?â
âHave you not paying attâ It wasnât âjust like that.ââ
âIt looks like that to me!â
Silence crashes down, and then she says it. âI was wondering the whole week if I should introduce you to him in person. But I guess I donât have to.â
âWhat?â âMy fiance.â
âWhy don't you have to?â âIâm too ashamed to.â
The word stuns you. â...Ashamed?â
âYes. Ashamed to put you in the same room.â âWhy the hell would you be ashamed?â
âBecause heâsââ She stops. Swallows. âBecause heâs everything youâre supposed to be.â
The air sucks out of you. âAre you fucking serious?â
âIâm being serious.â
âWow, so you married him because heâs successful,âÂ
âThatâs notâdonât twist my words.â
âYou married him because heâs stable, didnât break, and didnât disappoint you.â
âStop.â
âBecause heâs me,â you continue, laughing in disbelief, âjust more successful. Wow, how shallow, Yoo Jimin.â
âShut it!â
âYou couldnât have me becoming a failure, right? You fucking show off. I shouldâve known that habit hasnât died out yet.â you push. âYou need to keep your face in society, so you found a replacement.â
Her face drains of color. âThatâs not fair.â
âIsnât it?â you laugh bitterly. âYou said it yourself. You lived through me. And when I fell short of your dream, you needed someone else to project it onto.â
âThatâs fucking disgusting.â
âGood that you fucking realise it! Then stop living your life through me!â you shout. âStop tying your happiness to what I achieve. Stop measuring your own worth against mine!â
The silence is pregnant.
âYou donât get to decide what my marriage is,â she says, trembling.
âAnd YOU donât get to decide what my breaking point is.â
She looks at you like she doesnât recognize you. âI miss the 5 minutes when I donât know how youâre...like this.â
WhatâŚâlike this?â âYouâre embarrassed of me, huh.â
She doesnât deny it, nor try to hide it either.
âYou built your life here,â you continue, voice hollow. âGood. Iâm proud of you. But stop treating me like a trophy.â
âOh I'm sure I will. Maybe now I can finally focus on getting married,â she says quietly, âknowing youâre not who I thought you were.â
âHow could youâŚâ That hurts. That hurts more than anything else she's said.
You stare at her dead straight. You scream for comfort, you scream for understanding. It's the only reason why you fly back to Korea â knowing that Jimin, of all people, will be empathetic to your struggles living alone. The first lesson of being an architect is to be empathetic right?
Instead, you feel judged and small, and the world around you feels so..shallow.
"You know what, justâ get out."
You blink. âJiminââ
âGet out.â Sheâs shaking now. âI canât look at you right now.â
âAre yââ You stand there for a second longer than you should. Waiting. For her to take it back. For her to soften.
She doesnât. And suddenly you donât know what is familiar to you anymore.
âFine.â
What else can you say, or do really, except just grab your clothes from the coffee table? Hastily shove them into your luggage without folding. Your hands shake. Your pride feels like shattered glass in your chest. You don't look at her again, and shut the door behind you.
If even your best friend sees you like this, who else is there�
-
The bungee jumping tower stopped operating around a year later.Â
And you vow to never look back.

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Entrapped
Loyalty Part 5: Male Reader x aespa's Karina / Yoo Jimin (ft. Other idols)
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5
TW: cnc, blackmail, coercion, manipulation, dark themes
~12k words
A/N #1: I'm not revealing anything about the idols featured here other than Karina, so please read on and find out! Although, you can go through my masterlist to find out if you're reaaally interested, but I would not recommend so.
A/N #2: Please participate in the poll at the end too~
Your hand grabs onto the handle, pushing it down as softly as you can. A soft click sounds as you inch the door open.
The muffled sounds instantly grow in volume, echoing into your ears as you both peek past the gap.
âFuck⌠so tight. You feel that? That's all for me.â
The sounds hit like a wave.
Wet slaps echo off the concrete and stacked crates the instant the door opens. Low male grunts roll underneath, steady and possessive.
Then a womanâs voice that's high, breathy and needy cuts through sharply.
âAhâyesâfuckâuse meââ
You both freeze in the doorway, half-hidden behind the nearest tower of cartons. The single bulb overhead is bright but mostly blocked with only stray rays piercing the gaps, turning the action into a distorted shadow-puppet show against the far wall. Shadows that stretch and bend from the ground to the wall. Elongated. Warped.
A broad male silhouette stands facing away from you, the hips of his shadow rolling forward in a slow, deliberate rhythm. The kneeling shadow in front rocks in perfect time, head bobbing, ponytail swinging. Every forward bob swallows the shadow of a thick girth; every pull-back lets it reappear, followed by a small, wet gasp.
âGood girl,â the man growls. The voice is deep, nothing like anyone you can relate it to, but it's familiar, so familiar in a stomach-turning way you can't quite place. Jihoon? It can't be. You saw him leaving earlier for another sponsor meeting.
âDeeper. All the way. Choke on it like you mean it.â
The girthy length appears and disappears into her mouth with every thrust, and she moans around him muffled, eager to please. âMmphâyesâgive it to meââ
Each withdrawal leaves blurrish drool strands stretching between lips and cock and she plunges back in before they snap. A wet, choking gag punctuates on every fourth stroke.
âFuck yes. You want that position, donât you? Show me how bad you need it. Suck like your job depends on it.â
He's instantly rewarded with another louder and wetter gag. Sounds of spit bubbling mixes with the buzzing silence, and strings of shadowed saliva drips onto the ground below. Her hands rise to grip his thighs, holding on for a tight second before diving back in.
âFaster,â he grunts. âUse that throat. Make me cum down it and maybe Iâll let you bend over for the real reward.â
The shadow obeys instantly, head moving quicker. Sloppy glucking sounds fill the room and her moans vibrate across the crates every time she bottoms out.
Winterâs nails dig crescents into your forearm, a trigger that tears your gaze away from the shadow show. Her breathing is shallow and furious. You both edge one step closer, trying to get a better view, but the cartons still block most of it.
Although, the new angle reveals more now.
It's Director Oh. Shirt untucked, head tilted back as he groans in ecstasy. âThatâs it⌠fuckâswallow around me. Good little slut. Youâre gonna earn your wish, arenât you?â
You rise onto your toes, peering over the carton wall, straining to see the womanâs face, but you canât. You drop back down, gaze returning to the shadows where she pulls off to gasp, âYesâpleaseâgive it to meââ
Director Oh shoves back in, hand fisted in her hair, fucking her face with short, brutal thrusts.
Winter makes a small, strangled sound beside you. âNo,â Winter breathes. âWe canât justââ
You tighten your grip around her small wrists, mouthing for her to stop as you shake your head in disapproval.
âBut what if it's someone we know?â Winter mouths back, eyes wide with panic. âWhat if it's Yujin? Sullyoon? Or even Gaeul?â
âBut what if it's none of them?â you mouth in return. âWe're gonna be in trouble too. Let's get closer first, just for a better view.â
Winter hesitates, then nods reluctantly.
You both creep forward again, holding your breath, taking one silent step after another, until the cartons no longer block the angle completely.
Now you can see.
Relief hits you first. It's not Gaeul. Why did you even consider that possibility? It's not Yujin or Sullyoon either. It's a crew member â mid-20s, the one you remember assisting with the light and prop adjustments during the shoot. Short brown hair, face flushed, lips stretched wide around him â Director Oh.
He stands with his back to the cartons, pants around his thighs, shirt untucked. Hands still fisted in her hair, he continues jamming himself in and out of her mouth.
Sheâs trying her best, bobbing fast, hollowing her cheeks, moaning like she means it. But her hands tremble where they grip on his thighs, knees red and shaking against the concrete.
Director Oh groans. âFuck⌠just like that. Youâre gonna earn it tonight.â
He pulls out with a wet pop, cock glistening, veins throbbing. He slaps his cock against her cheek twice. She flinches but opens wider immediately.
âBeg for it,â he said. âTell me you want the position.â
âPleaseâŚâ Her voice cracks. âPlease give me the promotion. Iâll do anything.â
He smirks. âAnything?â
She nods frantically.
He bends down, grabbing her chin roughly. âThen bend over the table. Ass up. Iâm fucking that pussy next.â
The crew girl hesitates for a moment, as if weighing the pros and cons. Then she stands on her shaky legs, turning and bracing her palms on the metal table beside.
Director Oh steps up behind her, flipping her skirt up and yanking her panties to her knees. He doesn't wait. He lines himself up and pushes in one long, slow stroke.
She gasps with a sharp wince, âNot⌠not too deepââ
âJust shut up and take it,â he grunts. âYou want the job, donât you?â
He starts thrusting, rocking his steady hips, slapping his flesh against her ass. The table rocks with every movement. Her faux moans turn higher, more desperate. âYesâyesâpleaseâyou can't cumâinsideââ
Winterâs whole body goes rigid beside you.
You feel her shift and you feel the exact second her anger wells up, feeling the moment she decides to move.
You haven't even registered her intention when she just yanks her wrist off your grip, barging her way past the cartons, storming right into the scene.
Director Oh freezes mid-thrust. The crew girl yelps, trying to pull away at the sight of Winter. Her skirt falls and her panties are still tangled at her knees. She spins, sees you both, pulls up her underwear, and bolts half-dressed and sobbing through the back exit.
Director Ohâs pulls out with a wet pop, cock still hard and shining. He turns around and yells.
âWhat the fuck?!â
Winter steps forward, voice shaking from fear, but at least sheâs loud. âThis is wrong. She didnât wantââ
He laughs. âNo. She wanted the promotion. She said yes. Multiple times.â
âThatâs not consent,â Winter snaps. âThatâs coercion. You canât just do that.â
Director Oh pulls his pants up slowly, tugging his hard cock back into his pants with slight annoyance. His eyes flick from Winter to you, then back to Winter.
âYouâre the scholarship girl, right? Kim Minjeong?â He looks her up and down â chest, hips, legs â like heâs measuring fabric. âPretty little thing. Tight body. You could be on camera too, you know. Real shoots. Real money.â
Director Oh licks his lips slowly. âAll you have to do is be a good girl for me.â
Winter recoils as if slapped. She raises her hand, ready to swing.
âYou disgusting verminââ
You finally move. You grab her arm and pull her back towards the door. âWeâre leaving,â you say through clenched teeth.
Director Oh calls from behind you as you both leave, laughing. âThink about it, sweetheart! Doorâs always open!â
You drag Winter out into the hallway, slamming the door behind you. You donât stop moving until you are outside the warehouse. The cold night air hits both your faces like a slap.
Winterâs shaking with her fists clenched, tears streaming. She's angry. Terrified.
âI almostââ she chokes. âI almost let him defile meââ
You pull her into a hug. âYou're safe now,â you whisper. She buries her face in your shoulder and sobs.
âWe didnât do anything,â she whispers. âWe just⌠stood there.â
âThis isnât our business,â you say. âWe canât do anything. We almost got caught⌠and then what? They ruin us, Winter. They ruin everything.â
You hold her tighter. âWe tried. Thatâs more than most people would do.â
But even as you say it, you know it isnât enough. It wasn't Gaeul, Yujin or Sullyoon this time round, but what about the next time? What can you do? So what if you stopped the coercion from happening this time round? You can't be anywhere and everywhere the entire time. You're not omniscient. You're not omnipotent. You're just a small fish in a big pond.
You push open the cafĂŠ door. The bell jingles softly. It's barely 8 a.m. and you haven't slept much. Gaeul is already there, sitting in the corner booth, two iced lattes sweating on the table in front of her.
She looks up when you walk in, smiling brightly at first, then faltering as she sees your face. You slide into the seat opposite her, hands still cold from the morning breeze.
âYou look pale,â Gaeul says immediately. She pushes one of the lattes toward you. âLike you haven't slept at all. What happened?â
You stare at the cup. The condensation beads on the glass are the only things moving.
You think about telling her everything. Yujin. The phone call. The dressing room. The way you let her throat take you while Gaeul was laughing with the rest. The way you still feel her cum drying on your thighs under your jeans.
But the words stick.
Instead you say, âWinter and I⌠we saw something last night after everyone left. In the storage room.â
Gaeul leans forward, eyes wide, staring with curiosity. âWhat? Don't tell me you saw a ghost or something.â
âItâs Director Oh. With one of the crew girls. He was⌠using her,â you mumble, stirring your latte with the straw. âYou know, sex with benefits⌠for a promotion. She said yes, but she was crying. Winter tried to stop it. I couldn't⌠I couldn't do anything.â
âOh my god.â Gaeul's hand flies to her mouth. âD-Director Oh? He didn't look like someone who would do thatâŚâ
You look down at the table. âShe begged him not to cum inside. He just kept going. Like it was nothing.â
âIâm scared, Gaeul⌠Iâm scared something like that will happen to you,â you murmur, hands covering your face in a worrying frustration.
Gaeul reaches to you and takes your hands. Her fingers are warm. âI would never do that,â she says softly. âNever. Not for a job. Not for anything. You know that, right?â
You nod, throat tight. âI know. But you know⌠things can happen, and what if you get forced to-toâŚâ
âAhn Minjae. Look at me.â She squeezes your fingers. âIf anything seems suspicious, I will stop and leave immediately. Regardless of the benefits. Trust me.â
You look at her eyes, still worried, but you can only give a small nod.
âI'm glad Winter tried,â Gaeul continued. âAnd I'm glad you're telling me. You're okay. We're okay. We're still okay.â
Gaeul pauses. âIf anything like that ever happens to me â or if anyone tries â I'll tell you. Immediately. I promise.â
âOkayâŚâ
âThat aside,â her thumb strokes the back of your hand. âI texted Karina to meet us here. I want to make up. Properly. No more weirdness.â
Your stomach twists. Karina. The one person who knows about Yujin. The one person who could ruin everything with one sentence.
Before you can respond, the door jingles again.
Karina walks in. Her legs still look a little shaky, but steadier than when you interrogated her at the pool. She's wearing loose sweats and an old hoodie. She spots you both and gives a small, nervous wave.
Gaeul stands up immediately. âCome here.â
Karina approaches slowly, eyes down.
Gaeul pulls her into the booth beside her. Karina sits, hands folded in her lap, covering her groin that's probably still aching.
Gaeul takes a deep breath. âI was hurt. Really hurt. When everything happened before. I felt betrayed. Like you took something from us.â
Karina flinches. âI know. Iââ
âLet me finish,â Gaeul says gently. âI cried for days. I kept asking myself why. Why would you do that? Why would you risk what we had? I felt stupid for trusting you. For loving you.â
Karina's eyes fill instantly. âGaeul⌠I'm so sorry. I was selfish. I was stupid. I hurt both of you and I hate myself for it.â
Gaeul squeezes her hand. âI know. But I don't want to lose you over it. You're my friend. I miss you. I miss laughing with you. I miss the three of us being together. So I forgive you.â
Karina's tears spill over. âYou⌠you mean it?â
âI mean it,â Gaeul says. âBut I need to know you're sorry. Really sorry. And that you'll do whatever it takes to make it right.â
Karina nods quickly. âI am. I'm so sorry. I was wrong. I was weak. I let jealousy and loneliness get the better of me. I betrayed both of you and I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I'm begging for it. I'll do anything. Anything to earn it back.â
Gaeul looks at her for a long moment. âYou said you wanted to be our pet. To atone.â
Karina's breath hitches. âI do. I want that. I need it. I need to feel like I belong to you again. Like I earned it.â
Gaeul glances at you. You give a small nod â throat too tight to speak.
Karina looks between you both. âThe cage⌠can I have it back on? Please. I deserve to be locked up. I deserve to feel owned. I deserve to be punished until you both decide I've earned forgiveness.â
Gaeul's eyes soften. âYou really want this? Even after everything?â
Karina nods, tears slipping. âI need it. I need to know I'm yours again.â
âIf that's what you need. But I will hand you the keys,â Gaeul says. âYou lock yourself up. You hold yourself responsible.â
She leans in, kisses Karina's forehead, placing the keys in her hands. Karina closes her eyes, tears slipping free.
Gaeul pulls back slightly. âBut I don't want to just punish you. I want to reward you too. For coming back. For being honest.â
Karina blinks. âReward?â
Gaeul smiles. âLet's celebrate. Properly. Right now.â
Karina's breath catches. âHere? I-I don't deserve it.â
âShush. We decide when our pet gets rewarded.â Gaeul glances toward the back. âThe handicapped stall in the bathroom. It's lockable. Private enough.â
You feel your pulse spike, but you don't say no.
The three of you stand and Gaeul leads, hand in Karina's. You follow.
The bathroom door clicks shut behind you. Gaeul locks it. The handicapped stall is bigger than normal, wide enough for three people to stand comfortably.
Karina stands in the middle, hands fidgeting at her sides, hoodie still on but sweats already half-down. The chastity belt glints between her legs, the sleek, locked metal plate pressed tightly against her pussy, small padlock dangling. It's been days since she last came â days of denial, days of aching, days of her clit throbbing uselessly against the unyielding metal, days of waking up soaked and desperate, days of watching you and Gaeul with envy burning in her chest. Her thighs tremble just from standing, slick already seeping from the edges of the belt and dripping down her inner thighs in thin, glistening trails.
âG-GaeulâŚâ Karina whimpers.
Gaeul turns to her and smiles. âStrip. Slowly. Let us see how desperate you've been. Show us how badly you've been aching.â
Karina obeys, lifting her the hoodie over her head. Her big tits spill free, heavy and full, bouncing slightly as the fabric drags over them. They sway with her breathing, nipples already hard and dark against pale skin. The weight of them pulls her shoulders forward a little, making her arch instinctively.
Gaeul's eyes darken. âGod⌠look at these tits. So big, so heavy. They've been aching for days, haven't they? Begging to be touched. Begging to be slapped. Begging to be owned.â
Karina nods, cheeks flushing. âYes⌠they hurt⌠please⌠touch them⌠slap them⌠I need it⌠I've been so emptyâŚâ
Sweats slide down her legs as her panties and slacks are tossed aside. She stands naked except for the chastity belt, breathing shallow, eyes glassy with need.
Gaeul kneels, pulls the strap-on harness from her bag. It's thick, black and ridged, longer than usual. She slicks it generously with lube, stroking it slowly, eyes locked on Karina's.
âSit on the seat,â Gaeul says. âBack against the tank with your legs wide. Show us how much you missed being filled. Show us how wet you've been under that belt.â
Karina lowers herself onto the toilet seat, back pressed to the cold porcelain tank, thighs spread wide on the seat as instructed. The chastity belt digs into her skin with every movement and her clit throbs visibly against the metal plate, slick seeping from the edges and dripping onto the seat.
âUnlock yourself with the key I gave you,â Gaeul orders.
Karina nods impatiently and unlocks the belt with the key she kept. Once the lock clicks loose, Gauel slides it off slowly. Karina gasps as cool air hits her swollen pussy, shivering as a tiny, involuntary whimper escaping her lips. Her clit is engorged. Her folds are glistening. And her entrance clenches around nothing instinctively. A thin string of slick stretches and snaps as the belt comes away.
Gaeul sets the belt aside and cups Karinaâs mound with one warm palm first, simply holding her there, letting the heat seep in. Karinaâs hips twitch forward instinctively, chasing the touch sheâs been denied for so long.
âShh, pet,â Gaeul murmurs, thumb brushing the outer edge of Karinaâs folds. âIâve got you.â
She starts with the lightest strokes, fingertips gliding along the slick outer lips, never quite touching the clit, teasing the sensitive skin thatâs been trapped and neglected. Karinaâs breathing turns ragged almost immediately, chest rising and falling fast, big breasts trembling with each inhale.
âLook at how swollen you are,â Gaeul whispers. âPoor thing⌠your clitâs been begging for attention, hasnât it?â
Karina nods frantically, hips rocking in tiny circles. âYes⌠please⌠Gaeul⌠it hurts⌠itâs been so longâŚâ
Gaeul finally lets her thumb circle Karinaâs clit, moving gently and feather-light, barely grazing the hood. Karina jolts like sheâs been shocked, a high, broken whine spilling out. Her thighs quiver, trying to close, but Gaeul gently presses them wider.
âStay open for me,â Gaeul soothes. âLet me see how pretty you are when youâre finally touched.â
She keeps the pressure light but maddeningly slow, drawing tiny circles, then long, dragging strokes from the base of the clit up to the tip and back down. Karinaâs hips buck helplessly, slick coating Gaeulâs fingers in seconds. Her moans grow louder, more desperate, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.
âGaeul⌠please⌠harder⌠I need⌠I canâtââ
âNot yet,â Gaeul whispers, leaning in to kiss the inside of Karinaâs thigh. âI want to feel every little twitch. I want you to remember exactly whoâs touching you right now.â
Karina sobs softly, head falling back against the stall wall. Her big tits heave with each frantic breath, nipples tight and dark. Gaeul keeps the rhythm steady, rubbing gently, teasing Karina unrelentingly until she is trembling on the edge, thighs shaking, voice cracking on every plea.
âDo you want more?â Gaeul breathes against her dripping pussy.
Karina can do nothing but nod with needy and desperate eyes.
Without a word, Gaeul stands up and lines up the strap, pushing in slowly inch by inch. Karina's head falls back against the tank, mouth open in a silent cry. âIt's so big⌠it's been so long⌠please⌠fill me⌠I can't take it anymore⌠I've been aching every second⌠my pussy hurts⌠please fuck meâŚâ
Gaeul bottoms out, hips pressed fully against Karina's. âFeel that? That's me claiming you again. You've been locked up and denied for days. How does it feel to finally be stretched open? To finally have something inside you?â
Karina's hips twitch upward. âSo good⌠so full⌠I missed it⌠I ached every day⌠please don't stop⌠fuck me⌠please⌠I need it so bad⌠I've been dripping for so long⌠please ruin meâŚâ
Gaeul starts thrusting slowly, letting Karina feel every ridge drag against her walls. Wet, squelching sounds fill the stall. Karina's big tits bounce with each movement, swaying heavily, nipples scraping the air.
You step forward on Gaeulâs command, swinging your legs over Karinaâs upper chest. She looks up at you with her pleading eyes, lips parted, drool already at the corner of her mouth.
You unzip. Your cock springs free, hard and aching from the sight of her desperation.
Karina opens her mouth immediately. âPlease⌠fuck my mouth⌠use me⌠I need it⌠I've been so empty⌠please choke me with itâŚâ
You guide yourself in and she takes you in without hesitation. There's nothing to hesitate about. She just needs relief. Karina takes you in deep, tongue swirling, throat relaxing. Her moans vibrate around you, muffled and frantic.
Gaeul speeds up her thrusts, hips slapping against Karina's thighs. âThat's it. Take us both. You're ours now. No more hiding. No more running. Your pussy belongs to me. Your mouth belongs to him. Your big tits belong to us to slap and mark.â
Karina's hands grip the handicap support bars at the side. Her body rocks between you both, strap filling her pussy, your cock filling her mouth. Drool runs down her chin in thick strands as her eyes water.
Gaeul leans forward, grabbing one of Karina's heavy tits, squeezing until the flesh bulges between her fingers. She slaps it hard, watching the ripple travel across the soft, full mound. Karina moans louder around your cock.
âLook at these big, heavy tits,â Gaeul murmurs. âSo full. So sensitive. Slapping them makes you clench around me, doesn't it? You've been denied so long your whole body is screaming for it.â
Karina nods frantically, muffling in agreement.
Gaeul slaps the other tit harder. Then again. And again. Each crack makes Karina's body jerk, tits jiggling, skin blooming bright pink. Her nipples swell darker, painfully erect.
âYou've been locked up for days,â Gaeul says. âYour pussy's so sensitive. Your clit was trapped against that belt, throbbing, leaking, begging. You're going to cum so hard for us, aren't you? You're going to soak everything. You're going to scream around his cock.â
Karina's desperate response is garbled around your cock as she pleads. Her hips buck up to meet Gaeul's thrusts.
Gaeul thrusts deeper. âYou were so bad before. But you're being good now. Aren't you, pet? Tell us how sorry you are while you choke on him.â
Karina pulls off your cock to gasp, âI'm sorry⌠I'm so sorry⌠I was bad⌠punish me⌠reward me⌠please⌠I've waited so long⌠my pussy hurts⌠let me cum⌠please let me cum⌠I can't take it anymore⌠please fuck me harderâŚâ
Gaeul smiles. âGood girl. Now take it. Take everything we give you.â
She slams in harder. Karina's pussy squelches. Her moans turn higher, more frantic. You feel the vibration of her throat pushing you closer. You grip her hair gently, guiding her rhythm.
Gaeul reaches down, rubbing Karina's clit in rough circles. âYouâre so desperate. So sensitive. Cum for us, pet. Show us how much you missed this. Show us how sorry you are.â
Karina's hips buck wildly. Her pussy clenches around the strap. A muffled scream vibrates around your cock. Her body convulses and her first orgasm in a long time rips through her like a storm. Slick gushes out in hot spurts, soaking Gaeul's thighs and the toilet seat. Her big tits bounce violently, nipples scraping the air.
Gaeul doesn't stop, continuously thrusting through it. âThat's it. Keep cumming. Milk the strap like the needy slut you are. You've been locked up too long. Cum again. Now.â
Karina's second wave hits almost immediately. Her body arches off the seat, pussy spasming wildly around Gaeul's strap. High, broken whimpers escape around your cock as her legs shake violently against Gaeul's hips. Her eyes roll back, tears streaming freely down her temples. Her big tits jiggle helplessly with every convulsion, nipples scraping the air.
âOne more, pet. Give me everything you've been holding back. Keep cumming. You've waited so long, so let it all out. Soak me.â
Gaeul's hips piston forward relentlessly, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing louder in the stall. Karina's muffled scream vibrates down your shaft. You feel her throat tighten and flutter around you as another tremor runs through her. You grip her hair tighter, pushing deeper, fucking her mouth in strokes that match Gaeul's rhythm. Drool pours from the corners of her lips, coating your balls, dripping onto her heaving chest.
Gaeul slaps Karina's big tits again â left, right, left, right â making them bounce harder. The flesh ripples under each impact, skin blooming bright pink. âLook at these heavy tits shaking for us. You've been aching to be used like this, haven't you? Say it.â
Karina pulls off your cock just long enough to choke out, âYesâyesâI've been aching⌠please⌠don't stop⌠fuck me harder⌠I need itâŚâ
Gaeul smirks and slams in deeper, hips snapping forward with brutal force. The strap disappears completely inside Karina with every thrust, slick coating Gaeul's thighs and dripping onto the floor. âGood girl. Take it. Take every inch. You're ours to ruin.â
Karina's mouth continues to work on your cock as you fuck her throat in long, steady strokes. Her tongue flattens against the underside, desperate to please even as tears stream down her face. Her gags turn wetter and messier, spit bubbling around you, running in thick strands down her chin and onto her bouncing tits.
Gaeul snarls, âCum again, pet. I want you screaming. I want you shaking so hard you can't think.â
Karina's third orgasm crashes through her almost immediately. Her body seizes, pussy clamping down like a vise around the strap. Slick sprays in hot arcs, soaking Gaeul's hips and the toilet seat. Her muffled scream is raw, desperate, vibrating down your length. Her whole body trembles uncontrollably, legs kicking weakly, big tits heaving, nipples painfully swollen and red from slaps.
âG-Gaeul, I think you got to stop. She looks like she can't take it anymore,â you say, worrying as you see Karinaâs eyes rolling to whites.
âN-no! More more more please⌠don't stop⌠make me cum again⌠God fuckââ Karina cries as she pulls off your cock, head shaking in desperate denial, not wanting any pause.
Gaeul keeps pounding harder now, hips snapping forward without mercy. âYouâre not done. Cum until you canât remember your own name.â
Karina's fourth wave builds instantly. Her pussy fluttering wildly, clit throbbing under Gaeul's relentless fingers. She screams around your cock, body convulsing, slick flooding out in a gush. Her thighs quiver, toes curls and tears pours as you thrust deeper into her throat, feeling her swallow convulsively around you as she rides the peak.
You can't hold back anymore. The vibration, the sight of her shaking, the way her throat milks you. It's too much. You bury deep and cum, sending hot, thick pulses straight down her throat. She swallows greedily, body still twitching with aftershocks.
Gaeul keeps thrusting, slower now, drawing out every last tremor. âOne more. Just give us one more. Cum for us again. Cum like the desperate little slut you are.â
Karina's body tenses in response. Her fifth orgasm rips through her as Gaeul rubs her fingers across her clit rapidly. Her pussy clamps down so hard the strap almost slips out. Slick sprays in hot arcs, soaking the floor. Her muffled scream turns into sobs of relief and overstimulation. Her big tits heave, red and swollen, nipples throbbing.
Gaeul finally slows, then pulls out. Karina gasps for air, face flushed and lips swollen. Drool and cum drips from her chin as her chest heaves, big tits red from slaps and bouncing.
Gaeul kisses her forehead. âGood girl. You did so well. You took everything we gave you. You came so much for us. You're forgiven.â
Karina smiles weakly. She's collapsed on the toilet seat like a ragdoll, exhausted and relieved, eyes shining with gratitude and lingering haze. âThank you⌠thank you⌠I needed that⌠I missed it so much⌠I've waited so long⌠my pussy⌠my whole body⌠thank you⌠I love you bothâŚâ
You tuck yourself away. Gaeul helps Karina clean up, wiping her face, pulling her sweats back on. She locks the chastity belt back in place gently, before placing the key back in Karinaâs hands.
âRemember our promise.â
Karina nods.
You all step out, faces flushed, clothes straightened. Gaeul kisses Karina's cheek. âWe're together now.â
The air outside the stall feels colder, sharper, like the world has snapped back into focus. But maybe it was just the workout you three had in the bathroom.
You walk back toward the corner booth in silence. The barista behind the counter doesn't even pretend to look away as you pass her. She stares openly with her eyes narrowed, mouth a flat line of disapproval. She knows. The thin walls didn't hide much. But she says nothing, just turning back to the espresso machine with a sharp flick of her wrist, the cloth slapping against metal loud enough to make Karina flinch slightly.
You slide into the booth opposite Gaeul and Karina. The ice in your glasses have totally melted now, diluting the lattes into a tasteless brown drink. They sit close together, thighs touching, hands resting on each othersâ knees under the table.
Gaeul brushes a strand of hair from Karina's face. âYou okay? You still look⌠shaky.â
Karina manages a small, tired smile. âI'm okay. Just⌠overwhelmed. In a good way. I didn't think I'd ever feel that again.â
Gaeul's expression softens. âI know youâre sorry. I missed laughing together with you.â
Karina's voice cracks a little. âI missed it too. I thought I'd ruined everything. I thought you'd never look at me the same way.â
Gaeul leans in, pressing her lips softly to Karina's cheek. âI was hurt. Really hurt. But I never stopped loving you. I just needed time.â
Karina closes her eyes for a second. âI don't deserve your love. Not after what I did.â
âYou do,â Gaeul says quietly. âYou came back. You owned up. That's more than most people would do.â
Karina exhales shakily. âI still feel guilty. Every time I look at you, I remember how I broke your trust.â
Gaeul takes Karina's hand, laces their fingers together. âThen let me help you carry it. We're in this together now. No more running. No more hiding. Okay?â
Karina nods, eyes glistening. âOkay.â
Gaeul smiles. âI mean it. From now on, we talk. We fix things. Together.â
Karina leans her forehead against Gaeul's shoulder. âI promise. I won't let you down again.â
They stay like that for a moment, quiet, breathing in sync.
Then Gaeul kisses Karina's temple. âI need to wash my hands. Be right back.â
She stands and heads toward the bathroom again, leaving you and Karina alone at the booth.
Karina turns to you immediately. Her post-orgasm glow is still there â cheeks pink, eyes heavy-lidded â but something shifts. Her phone buzzes in her pocket. She pulls it out, glances at the screen, and her entire expression changes. Color drains from her face. Her eyes widen. Her breath catches.
Almost at the same instance, your own phone vibrates against your thigh.
You raise your phone, about to read the notification.
âWe need to talk. Right now.â Karina interrupts you, hand trembling as she grips the device.
Before you can answer, Gaeul returns with her hands still damp, smiling. âReady for class?â
Karina looks at you, before smiling uneasily at Gaeul. She forces a nod. âYeah. Let's go.â
You all stand. Gaeul shoulders her bag and heads for the exit. You and Karina follow a step behind.
Just as Gaeul reaches the door, Yujin rises from her corner table, hoodie up, sunglasses on, coffee cup in hand. She walks casually, intercepting Gaeul's path like it's pure coincidence.
âGaeul!â Yujin's voice is bright and warm, full of affection. She pulls her sunglasses down just enough to show her eyes. âI didn't even see you! Heading to class?â
Gaeul's face lights up instantly. âYujinnie! Yeah, just leaving. You?â
âSame. Walk with me?â Yujin smiles widely. It seems genuine and full of best-friend energy, but you know otherwise.
Gaeul laughs softly. âI've missed you since yesterday. Come on~ Iâll see you both at lunch!â
They head out together, chatting lightly. Your girlfriend is completely at ease, and Yujin is just playing the perfect, carefree best friend. Right before they disappear through the door, Yujin glances back over her shoulder. She gives you a quick, knowing wink, then turns the same subtle smirk toward Karina. Then they're gone in a blink.
The door swings shut behind them.
Karina grabs your wrist the second they're out of sight. Her grip is tight, nails digging in. âOutside. Now.â
You follow her to a quiet corner of the cafĂŠ's outdoor seating area, away from windows, away from ears. She stops, turns to you, phone already in her hand.
Her voice is low, shaking with frustration and barely-contained panic. âLook at this.â
She shoves the screen toward you.
You draw in a breath. Itâs the photo. Yesterday's photo â your cock buried between Yujinâs thighs, cum dripping thick and white down her thighs. Below it, is a short clip of Yujin's fingers working herself furiously, moaning your name over and over: âI got him~â
Your stomach drops.
Your own phone is still in your hand. You open the notification on your phone without thinking.
<Yujin, 9.02 a.m.> âI miss your cock so much.â Attached is a longer video of what she sent Karina, and she's masturbating with her legs spread, fingers plunging deep, whispering your name like a prayer.
Karina cries at you with exasperation. âExplain this. Right now. After we just fixed things with Gaeul? After I just came apart for both of you⌠after I begged to be yours again? You let her do this?â
You feel a hot, choking panic surge within you. âShe forced me, Karina. She has recordings. I couldn't stop her. I triedââ
Karina cuts you off, voice rising slightly before she drops back down. âYou tried? That's it? You tried? She has proof now. She can ruin everything. Gaeul just forgave me⌠she just let me back in⌠and you're still hiding this?â
Frustration boils in your chest. âYou didn't tell Gaeul about Yujin either! You were scared of hurting her too! Don't act like you're clean here.â
âThat's different. I was trying to protect her!â Karina flinches, eyes flashing with anger.
âYou⌠you actually let herââ she trails off to a mumble.
âI didn't let her,â you snap. âShe cornered me. She threatened to send everything to Gaeul if I didn't. I was trapped. I hate it. I hate myself. I'm ruining everything. I don't deserve either of you.â
âYou could have told me. You could have warned me she was still playing this game,â Karina says.
âAnd what? Risk her finding out from you? I was trying to keep it contained. I was trying to keep us all safe.â
Karina stares at you for a long second. Her anger cracks â not gone, but softened by the same worry eating at you. âSo what now?â
You look at her, mind drawing nothing but blanks. âI don't know. I just know that Gaeul can't get hurt. Iâll take everything to my grave if I need to.â
Karina exhales shakily. She steps forward, and pulls you into a tight hug. âIâm sorry⌠Iâm so sorry for starting all this. Iâm so sorry for falling for Yujinâs baitâŚâ You hold her back, arms locked around her shoulders.
You stay like that for a few seconds with raw worry, panic, exasperation, and frustration hanging heavy between you.
Karina pulls back first, looking at her watch. âFuck, this is frustrating. I need to get to class, see you in a bit.â
You're walking to the cafeteria in heavy silence. The campus paths are crowded with students laughing, and music from earbuds all around leak out to form a playlist of chaos. But everything feels muffled and distant. You keep your head down, phone clutched tight in your jacketâs pockets like it's a live grenade. Yujinâs messages burn in your hands â the photo, the clip that goes on loop, and her taunting âI miss your cock so muchâ.
And yet you haven't replied to her nor deleted any of the messages.
You reach the cafeteria. Gaeul is already at the usual table, waving when she spots you. You point towards the queue, mouthing âIâll get my food first, babyâ. Sakura opposite her, face stuffed into her bowl as usual.
You look at the queue⌠It's long. Probably about a hundred people. Your eyes scan through the snaking line. Then you spot familiar faces: Karina and Winter. They are near the front of the queue. You walk towards them, greeting and shamelessly cutting into the queue without looking back. Their faces are all already pissed from the long queue anyway, it won't matter if they get a little angrier.
âHey, mind me cutting?â
âAre you seriously asking this when you're standing right in front of us?â Winter grumbles.
âHey, it's alright. No issues right, Jimin-ah?â Karina smiles at you.
âIâll requeue if you're really madâŚâ
âNo! Justâugh fine,â Winter rolls her eyes. âYou're lucky because I like you.â
âI'm gonna be in trouble if you say that in front of Gaeul,â you smile sheepishly.
âAS. A. FRIEND. A. FRIEND.â Winter punctuates every word firmly, although you swear that you see her eyes waver.
âErrr, you need to move, MinjaeâŚâ Karina says, pointing at the gap formed as the one before you moved up the queue while you were talking.
Once you three got your food, you headed towards Gaeul and Sakura, taking your seats. You slide into the seat opposite Gaeul.
âJimin-ah, come sit beside me~â Gaeul says.
Karina forces a smile and slides in beside Gaeul. Sakura looks up, grinning. âFinally! Why are yâall always late? Food must be eaten at the first moment you can. I hate queuing for food.â
âOf course you would say that, you're a glutton,â Gaeul laughs softly.
Sakura nudges Karina. âYou okay? You look⌠flushed. Good flushed or bad flushed?â
Karina manages a weak laugh. âGood flushed. Just⌠long morning.â
Sakura winks. âI get it. Some mornings are like that.â
âWhereâs Yujin?â Winter asks.
âOh, she has a meeting for another event over lunch. She won't be joining us,â Sakura answers. âBusy woman.â
Karina and you share a telepathic exhale of relief. Gaeul starts eating, chatting lightly about class gossip. Sakura joins in, animated, oblivious. Karina picks at her rice, eyes flicking to the entrance every few seconds. You do the same. Yujin could appear at any moment.
Then Sullyoon walks in.
She moves slowly, head down, hair slightly messy, makeup a little smudged like she reapplied in a hurry. She shifts her shoulders once as she walks, as if her back or joints are stiff. She spots your table and hesitates, then forces a smile and heads over.
Gaeul lights up immediately. âSullyoon! Over here! Sit next to Sakura.â
Sullyoon nods and heads to get her lunch. The queue is noticeably shorter now, and within a few minutes, she's sliding in beside Sakura, across from you. âHey⌠sorry I'm late.â
Gaeul tilts her head, concern immediate. âYou okay? You look exhausted. And⌠kind of stiff. Are you feeling sick? Your shoulders look tense.â
Sullyoon's smile doesn't reach her eyes. âI'm fine. Just⌠muscle soreness from yesterday's shoot. They had us in weird poses for hours. My back and shoulders are killing me.â
Gaeul reaches over, touches Sullyoon's arm gently. âYou don't have to talk if you don't want to. But if something's wrong, oh wait, is this about Jihoon? You don't have to care about him, Sullyoon. He's just being a creep. Ignore him.â
Sullyoon nods and mumble a small thanks, picks up her chopsticks. But her hands shake slightly. She barely touches her rice.
Jihoon appears then, sauntering in from the side, tray in hand. He spots the table and smirks. He walks straight over, drops into the last empty seat next to you without asking.
âHey, everyone,â Jihoon says, voice sweet and casual. He looks at Sullyoon first. âHey, princess. You look like you worked hard. Rough shoot yesterday huh? Your back looks stiff.â
Sullyoon freezes. Her chopsticks clatter against the bowl. She doesn't look up.
Jihoon leans back, smirking wider. âWhat? No hello? After all that effort you put in?â
Gaeul frowns. âJihoon, not now. She's not feeling well. And you're the one who was a creep to her the entire day yesterday, you expect her to say hi with a smile?â
You feel anger flare hot in your chest. âSullyoon is a nice girl. She'd never be with someone like you.â
Jihoon laughs. âYou sure about that?â
He turns to Sullyoon again. âTell them, princess. Werenât you working so hard yesterday? You posed and bent in all sorts of positions during the shoot yesterday, working hard to be chosen for the next campaign. Why aren't you backing yourself up? Or should I just call Director Oh and remove you from the next shoot?â
Sullyoon's face drains of color. She stands abruptly, chair scraping loud against the floor. She presses one hand briefly to her lower back before dropping it. âI⌠I need to rest. Sorry.â
She walks away quickly, too quickly, head down, shoulders hunched.
Gaeul watches her go, worry deepening. âWhat was that about? And now this⌠Jihoon you bastard, what did you do?â
Jihoon shrugs, still smirking. âJust teasing. She's sensitive.â
Sakura frowns. âThat wasn't teasing. That was so mean. Sullyoon looked scared. Can you not do that to anyone new to the group? It's really unsettling and weird especially if they aren't used to your stupid âflirtingâ.
Jihoon rolls his eyes. âRelax. She's fine. Probably just tired. Y'all are always hanging me by the noose as if teasing someone is a crime.â
Gaeul's voice sharpens. âYeah right. Teasing. That's sexual harassment. Douche.â
Jihoon meets Gaeul's eyes, smile never fading. âStop being so sensitive. She's just overworked. You know how these shoots are.â
Gaeul ignores Jihoonâs words and smiles back at you. âLet's ignore this bastard.â
âAnyway, I have class. See you later, my hot and sexy Gaeul.â Jihoon blows a kiss at Gaeul, then walks off, asking the canteen staff to help pack his uneaten food. A few moments pass and Jihoon walks out of the cafeteria smugly.
The table falls silent.
Gaeul stares after him leaving, then turns to you and Karina. âDid something happen?â
Karina shakes her head, âI don't know. I wasnât at the shoot yesterday. She just⌠seems off.â
Gaeul frowns deeper. âIâll talk to her later. She's not herself. And Yujin⌠I know she's been busy, but she's been weird lately too. I don't like it. Something feels wrong. Everything feels weird.â
Sakura nods. âYeah. Something feels off. Sullyoon looked like she was about to cry when Jihoon spoke to her.â
Gaeul exhales. âI'll check on her after class.â
Gaeul looks at you, then Karina. âPromise me, if you know anything, you'll tell me. I don't want anyone getting hurt.â
Karina nods. âWe promise.â
Gaeul exhales. âOkay. Let's finish eating. Then class.â
Karina brushes your hand under the table. A reminder that you both have already broken the promise with Gaeul even before she asked for it.
Lunch runs through with unease and you all stand to leave for afternoon classes.
The tutorâs voice drones on about enzyme kinetics, but the words slide off you like water. Nothing remains in your mind other than Yujinâs messages.
Before you know it, class ends. You pack slowly, waiting for the room to empty. When it's just you and the hum of the air-con, you pull out your phone and open your chat with Gaeul.
Your thumbs hover.
<You, 5.28 p.m.> Hey baby, Winter asked me to help her study Bio tonight. She's struggling with the new chapter. I'm kinda lost on it too so we'll probably figure it out together. Gonna grab dinner alone first then meet her. Probably be late. Love you
You hit send before you can overthink it. The âdeliveredâ tick appears almost instantly.
Gaeul's reply comes less than a minute later.
<Gaeul â¤ď¸, 5.28 p.m.> Aww okay! Tell Winter I said hi and good luck with Bio. Don't stay up too late okay? Eat properly, don't just snack. Miss you already đ Text me when you're home safe?
You stare at the kissing emoji. It feels like a knife twist.
<You, 5.29 p.m.> I will. Miss you more. See you tomorrow.
You pocket the phone and exhale slowly. The lie sits like lead in your gut, but you push it down. You have to.
You leave the building and head across campus. The library looms ahead. It's quiet, and imposing, mostly empty at this hour, because everyone is mostly mugging books or shagging bodies in their dorms.
Winter is waiting outside the entrance, backpack slung over one shoulder, hair tied back in a loose ponytail. She looks tired with dark shadows under her eyes, but her posture is straight and determined.
âHey,â she says when you reach her. âThanks for coming. I wasn't sure you'd say yes.â
âYou said you needed help with Bio,â you reply. âSo here I am.â
Winter gives a small, tired smile. âYeah. Bio.â
You both walk inside. The third-floor Study zone is nearly deserted â just a few scattered students with headphones. You take the usual corner table behind the tall shelves, hidden from the main walkway.
Winter drops her bag and pulls out her textbook. You do the same. For a minute you both pretend: pages turn, pens tap, highlighter scratching across lines.
But neither of you is reading.
Winter finally breaks the silence. âOkay. We're not fooling anyone. What's going on with you and Karina? You've both been off since yesterday. And don't say 'long morning'. I saw your faces at lunch. You looked like you'd seen a ghost.â
You close your textbook. The words feel too big, too dangerous. But Winter's the only person you trust right now who isn't directly tangled in the mess.
âIt's Yujin,â you say quietly. âShe has stuff on me. And on Karina. Photos. Videos. She's threatening to send them to Gaeul if we don't⌠comply.â
âStuff on you? What stuff?â Winter's eyes widen. âAnd comply with what?â
âFrom⌠it's complicated⌠As for compliance, I don't know yet. But I can't let Gaeul see them. It would destroy her. Karina and I⌠we're trying to figure out how to stop Yujin without blowing everything up.â
Winter exhales sharply. âJesus. Yujin is⌠she's dangerous. I always knew she was messy, but this?â
You nod. âShe's not stopping. And now there's Sullyoon too. Jihoon at lunch today⌠he knows something. He was taunting her like he owns her. And she lookedâŚâ
âScared,â Winter finishes. âI saw it. She practically ran out. And Gaeul's worried sick. She texted me after class asking if I knew anything.â
You rub your face. âI know. I feel like we failed her. We saw Jihoon at lunch and did nothing.â
Winter leans forward, voice dropping to a whisper. âWe can't just watch anymore. We have to do something.â
You meet her eyes. âLike what? Tell Gaeul? Confront Yujin? Confront Jihoon? Every option ends with someone getting hurt.â
Winter's expression hardens. âThen we find a way that doesn't. We can't keep pretending everything's fine when it's not. Gaeul deserves to know. Sullyoon deserves help. And you and Karina⌠you can't keep carrying this alone.â
You look down at your textbook. The words blur. âI don't know how to stop it. I don't know how to fix any of it.â
Winter reaches across the table, rests her hand on your forearm. Her touch is light, steady. âYou don't have to fix it alone. That's why I'm here. That's why we're sitting in this corner pretending to study Bio at 7 p.m. We're in this together now. Okay?â
You look at her. Like really look. Her eyes are tired but clear and resolute. For the first time since everything started, you don't feel completely alone.
âOkay,â you say quietly.
Winter gives a small nod. âGood. Now let's at least pretend to open the book. If anyone walks by, we need to look like we're doing something productive.â
You both flip open your textbooks. But neither of you reads. The silence stretches again, heavier this time, full of anything and everything.
Winter finally speaks, âYou know, I can't stop thinking about last night. The storage room. Director Oh and that crew girl. She was crying. She said no at first. And I just⌠stormed in and stopped it. But now I keep wondering â did I make it worse? Did I put a target on her back? Did I make things worse for possibly Sullyoon, Gaeul, or even Yujin? Especially since we're related to them.â
You swallow. âYou did the right thing. You tried to stop it.â
Winter shakes her head. âTrying isn't enough. Not when someone ends up hurt because of it. Gaeul keeps asking me if I know anything. I don't know what to tell her. I don't know how to explain that I might have caused this.â
You reach across the table, mirror her earlier gesture â your hand on her forearm. âYou didn't cause this. You donât even know if Sullyoon acting weird has anything to do with you. Whatever happened after you interrupted⌠that's on them. Not you.â
Winter looks at your hand, then at you. âThen why does it feel like it is?â
You don't have an answer. You just squeeze her arm gently. âBecause we're human. And we care. And caring hurts when you can't fix it.â
Winter exhales shakily. âI hate this. I hate feeling helpless.â
âMe too,â you say quietly. âMe too. Oh well, no point harping it now. Weâll manage it as time passes.â
Right as the words leave your mouth, your phone buzzes on the table.
You glance at the screen. It's Jihoon.
Winter notices. âWhat is it?â
You open the message.
<Horny Bastard, 7.39 p.m.> Thought youâd want to see what you missed. Stay quiet.
Attached is a video file.
Your thumb hovers above it, debating whether to play it as you ponder what could be the possible contents.
âSome sort of video file Jihoon sent. The date reads⌠yesterday night, 11.34 p.m. Isn't that after the shoot yesterday? Maybe he's showing me details from the sponsor meeting he mentioned. Weird.â
Winter leans in. âPlay it? Maybe angle it so only we can see. I've received too many troll sexual videos from him.â
You take out your wired earpiece and plug it in, offering one side to Winter. Plugging the other into your ear, you shield the screen between both of you and press play.
The clip opens mid-act.
It's a small lounge. A cheap metal table sits in the center of the room where the harsh overhead light casts long shadows. A woman is bent over the table, palms flat on the scratched surface, skirt flipped up to her waist, panties tangled around one ankle. A familiar male stands behind her, pants shoved down to his thighs, cock buried deep inside her. He moves slow at first, hips rolling with deliberate control, savoring every inch.
âWhat the, that looks like⌠Jihoon,â you murmur. âWhy the fuck did he send me his sex tape?â
âFuck⌠look at this tight little cunt,â Jihoon growls, voice thick with satisfaction. âYouâre dripping for it, arenât you? Say it, princess. Tell me how much you want this job.â
Winterâs breath catches beside you. Her fingers tighten on the edge of the table. âW-wait⌠Princess? Don't tell me that's Sullyoon?â
Sullyoonâs voice is small. âYes⌠Iâm drippingâŚâ
âI-I think its her. What the fuck?â You feel your stomach lurch. âAnd sheâs⌠sheâs not fighting.â You stare back at the video. Jihoon laughs, âLouder. Tell me you love getting fucked for a job. Say it like you mean it.â
âI love⌠getting fucked for a job,â Sullyoon whispers. A tear rolls down her cheek, but she doesnât wipe it away.
Winterâs hand finds your forearm, squeezing hard. âSheâs crying⌠oh my god sheâs crying.â
Jihoon speeds up, hips snapping forward, each thrust driving her body forward against the table. The wet slap of their connecting skins echo through the tiny speakers in your ears. Sullyoonâs moans are broken and reluctant, forced out with every plunge. The video is unnecessarily clear, showing you both every detail in high definition.
You can see her thighs trembling. You can almost feel the slick that runs down her inner legs in thin, glistening streams, pooling on the concrete floor.
âT-this happened last night⌠this was his stupid sponsor meetingâŚâ you heart wrenches as the words leave you.
Jihoon grabs her hips harder, fingers digging into soft flesh. âThatâs it. Take it. Feel how deep I am. Youâre clenching around me like a greedy little slut. Youâve been waiting for this, havenât you? Waiting to be used like this for a fucking contract.â
He pulls almost all the way out, cock glistening with her juices, then slams back in with full force. Sullyoon cries out, body jolting. The table creaks dangerously under the impact.
âP-pause it WinterâŚâ you choke out. âWe shouldn't be watching this.â
But neither of you move. Your hands just grip tight, two pairs of eyes staying glued to the screen.
âFuck yes. Look at you shaking. You love it rough, donât you? You love being bent over and pounded like a cheap whore.â
He sets a punishing rhythm now, thrusting in long, deep strokes that bottom out every time, hips slapping against her ass with loud, wet smacks. Sullyoonâs moans turn higher, more fractured. Her arms tremble, palms sliding on the table. Her small tits drag across the surface with every thrust, making her moan harder at the friction.
Jihoon slaps her ass again. âSay it. Say youâre my little fucktoy for the job.â
âIâm⌠Iâm your little fucktoy⌠for the jobâŚâ Sullyoon gasps, voice breaking on every word.
Winter shifts beside you, thighs pressing together, breathing quickening for a second before she catches herself. Her cheeks flush. She looks away, ashamed. âI shouldnât⌠I shouldnât be feeling anything from this.â
You feel it too. The unwanted hardness straining against your pants. You hate it. It's always like this. You couldn't help it when you tortured Karina, and now itâs happening again. You hate your body for betraying you . You hate that youâre reacting to this. You shift uncomfortably, trying to hide it, but Winter notices. She doesnât say anything. The silence between you is worse than words.
Jihoon pulls out suddenly, and you can see his cock shining, veins throbbing through the screen. He slaps her ass again, harder, causing Sullyoon to yelp as her body jerks.
âTurn around. On your knees.â
She obeys without hesitation, knees hitting the concrete, skirt still bunched. Jihoon grabs her ponytail and yanks her head back roughly.
âOpen that slut mouth.â
She does. He shoves in deep, making her gag immediately. Drool spills over her lips, running down her chin in thick strands. Jihoon fucks her face with short, brutal thrusts, groaning every time her throat convulses around him.
âThatâs it. Choke on it like the desperate little whore you are. You think you deserve that position? Prove it. Suck like your career depends on it. Deeper. All the way. Gag for me.â
Sullyoonâs eyes water. Tears stream down her cheeks, mixing with drool. Her hands grip his thighs for balance as he uses her mouth like a toy, pulling her head forward, holding her there until she chokes, then letting her gasp for air before slamming back in.
Winterâs grip on your arm tightens. âSheâs shaking⌠sheâs so scaredâŚâ
You feel your own throat tighten. âI need to do something. Anything.â But you know that nothing can be done. What's happening in the video has already happened.
Suddenly, the door in the video opens.
A man steps in face flushed and furious.
âI-isnât that Director Oh?â Winter exclaims in horror.
âYou started without me?â he snaps. âAfter that scholarship bitch ruined my fun earlier?â
Jihoon doesnât stop thrusting. âYouâre late. Sheâs already warmed up.â
Director Ohâs eyes lock on Sullyoon. His expression darkens. âThen Iâm taking it out on her.â
He walks forward and unzips. His cock springs free. It's less thick than Jihoonâs, but sizeable nonetheless.
âDamn, yourâre already leaking.â Jihoon says.
âI told you just now, that stupid scholarship bitch from earlier, she fucking interrupted my fun.â
âThen fuck our princess instead, isn't she much more worthwhile for your cock?â Jihoon says.
Director Oh grunts and grabs Sullyoonâs hair from Jihoonâs grip, yanking her off Jihoonâs dick with a wet pop. âOn the table. Ass up. Now.â
Sullyoon scrambles, tears streaming, legs shaking. She bends over the table again, palms flat, ass presented.
Director Oh doesnât wait. He strips Sullyoon entirely, revealing her bare body for four pairs of eyes to see â two predators in front of her, and two spectators through the screen. He lines up and slams into her pussy with one brutal thrust. Sullyoon cries out sharply. Her walls clench around him and Director Oh groans in response.
âFuck⌠still so tight after Jihoon? You really are a perfect little cumdump.â
He starts fucking her hard, slamming his hips against her ass, table rocking violently. Each thrust shoves her forward and her moans turn into broken sobs.
Jihoon steps in front of her again, cock back in her mouth. She gags immediately, spit bubbling, running down her chin in thick strands.
âLook at you,â Jihoon taunts. âTaking two cocks at once. Crying like a bitch while your pussy squeezes him. You love being used, donât you?â
Sullyoonâs muffled sob vibrates around him.
Director Oh slaps her ass. âAnswer him, slut. Tell us you love it.â
She forces her face off Jihoonâs cock just long enough to gasp, âI⌠I love itâŚâ
Jihoon shoves back in. âLouder.â
âI love it!â she cries around him, tears mixing with drool.
They use her like that for long minutes â Director Oh spearing into her from behind, Jihoon ramming deep into her throat. The table creaks dangerously. Her body jolts between them with every thrust. Slick gushes down her thighs. Her moans turn higher, more desperate, and her body begins to betray her even as she sobs.
Director Oh reaches around, pinching her clit roughly. âCum for us, whore. Show us youâre worth the job.â
Sullyoonâs hips jerk. A strangled scream escapes around Jihoonâs cock. Her body convulses as her orgasm rips through her against her will. Her walls clamp down hard and slick sprays, soaking Director Ohâs shaft, dripping onto the floor.
Jihoon laughs. âThere she goes. Cumming like a cheap slut while she chokes on my dick.â
Director Oh thrusts twice more before burying himself deep, cumming with a long groan. Hot pulses fill her, and she whimpers, shaking.
She flinches but doesnât move.
They step back.
Sullyoon stays bent over the table, legs trembling, cum leaking from her pussy, dripping down her thighs.
âI-is that the end?â Winter asks.
You look at her, and your heart skips. She's entirely traumatised. You tap on the screen, hoping that the red bar is nearing the end, but it's barely a third through.
Winterâs breath hitches at the sight.
Jihoon pulls Sullyoon off the table roughly, hands under her arms. She stumbles, legs shaky, cum and slick dripping down her thighs. Director Oh sits on the edge of the table, legs spread, cock hard again.
Jihoon grabs her wrists and yanks them behind her back. âSit on him. Now.â
Sullyoonâs eyes widen. âWaitââ
Jihoon doesnât let her finish. He forces her down onto Director Ohâs lap, legs spread wide over his hips as Sullyoon faces him. Director Oh grabs her hips, lines up, and pulls her down hard onto his cock. She gasps as he fills her again.
Jihoon steps behind her, grabbing her legs, and locks them behind her neck in a full nelson. Her shoulders strain, chest thrust forward, small but full tits bouncing as Director Oh starts thrusting up into her from below.
âFuck yes,â Jihoon growls, holding her in place. âLook at you. Spread open, helpless. Youâre made for this, arenât you? Made to be used like a little porn actress.â
Sullyoonâs head falls back against Jihoonâs shoulder, mouth open in a silent cry. Her body rocks with every upward thrust as Director Oh slams into her relentlessly, hips snapping, cock disappearing deep inside her over and over. Wet squelching fills the audio. Her thighs tremble, slick dripping down onto Director Ohâs lap.
Winter shifts beside you, thighs pressing together tightly, breathing quickening. Her cheeks flush dark. She looks away, ashamed, fingers digging into her own leg. âI shouldnât⌠I shouldnât be feeling this. Not from this.â
You feel it too. Your cock throbs painfully hard against your pants, unwanted and insistent.
Jihoon leans in close to Sullyoonâs face, voice low and mocking. âSmile for the camera, princess.â
Sullyoonâs eyes snap open. âWhat⌠what camera?â
Jihoon nods toward the corner of the room, looking straight at you and Winter. A small red light blinks steadily, and it's a hidden camera mounted high on the wall, lens pointed directly at the table.
Sullyoonâs breath hitches as she gazes at you in shame. âNo⌠why are you filming me? Turn it off. Please.â
Jihoon laughs softly. âProtection, princess. In case you ever say we forced you. This way everyone sees you begging for it. Everyone sees how much you love it.â
Director Oh thrusts up harder brutally. Sullyoon cries out, body jolting in the nelson hold. Her tits bounce wildly with every impact.
âSay it,â Jihoon orders. âTell the camera you want this job. Tell it you love getting fucked like this.â
Sullyoon shakes her head weakly. âNo⌠please⌠I donâtââ
Director Oh pinches her nipple hard. âSay it, or no more shoots. No more campaigns. Youâll be nothing.â
Sullyoonâs resistance crumbles. Tears stream down her face. âI⌠I want this job. I love getting fucked like this. Please⌠film me.â
Jihoon smirks. âGood girl. Look at the lens. Let them see your face while you cum.â
Director Oh speeds up, hips slamming upward, cock driving deep with every thrust. Jihoon moves his hips too, matching the rhythm of Director Ohâs thrusts, bouncing her deeper onto Director Ohâs cock with every snap. Sullyoonâs moans turn higher, more fractured.
Then you see the unexpected. Her body starts to move with him, hips rolling down to meet each upward plunge, walls clenching around him.
Jihoon keeps her locked in the nelson, arms trapped, chest thrust out. âThatâs it. Ride him. Show the camera how much you need this. Show them what a desperate little slut you are for the spotlight.â
Sullyoonâs eyes glaze over. Her protests fade. Her hips buck harder, chasing the rhythm. Her moans turn needy and desperate. âYes⌠yes⌠more⌠pleaseâŚâ
Winterâs breathing is ragged now. She crosses her legs tighter, face burning. âThis is wrong⌠I shouldnât⌠I shouldnât be wet from this. Sheâs cryingâŚâ
You feel the same shame â your cock throbbing harder, pre-cum dampening your boxers. You whisper, âWeâre not like them. Weâre not.â
But the words feel hollow.
Director Oh groans. âFuck⌠sheâs squeezing me so tight. Gonna cum inside her again.â
He slams up a few more times then buries deep and cums with a long, guttural sound. Hot pulses fill her. Sullyoon shudders, body convulsing in another forced orgasm, slick gushing out around his cock, dripping onto the Director Ohâs waist.
Jihoon holds her in place, nelson lock unrelenting. âLook at the camera while he fills you. Say thank you.â
Sullyoonâs voice is broken, dazed. âThank you⌠thank youâŚâ
Jihoon finally releases her arms. She collapses forward against Director Ohâs chest, trembling, cum leaking from her pussy.
The video doesnât cut yet. It lingers on her â ruined, shaking, face streaked with tears and semen.
âI-I don't want to watch anymoreâŚâ you say, tears welling in your eyes. You move forward to pause the video, but Winter catches your hand.
âNo. We have to. We need to see this through. So we know every detail and know what to do from here onwards,â Winter protests with an shaky yet unwavering conviction.
And so you let the video continue without pause.
Jihoon and Director Oh pull Sullyoon off the table agajn. She stumbles, legs barely holding her weight. Her breathing is ragged, eyes half-lidded and dazed from the previous orgasms.
Jihoon moves and pushes her onto the couch nearby. âOn your back,â He orders. âLegs wide. Show the camera everything.â
Sullyoon doesn't resist. She lets them position her flat on her back on the couch, legs hooked over Jihoonâs arms as he positions betwen her legs. Her small breasts sit high and perky on her chest, nipples dark and painfully erect, bouncing lightly with every trembling breath.
Jihoon lines up between her spread thighs, cock hard and throbbing for the lack of action. He pushes in slowly, letting her feel every thick ridge drag against her oversensitive walls.
Sullyoon gasps, back arching off the couch. âAh⌠it's⌠too big⌠I can't take moreâŚâ
Jihoon bottoms out with a low groan. âYes you can. Your greedy little pussy is sucking me in. Look at it, swallowing every inch like it was made for cock.â
He starts thrusting slowly, letting her adjust before he slams deeper, harder. Each stroke bottoms out, hips slapping wetly against her ass with loud smacks. The couch creaks under the force. Sullyoon's moans are high as her body jolts with every plunge. Her small tits bounce lightly, jiggling with each impact.
Director Oh climbs onto the couch beside her head, knees on either side of her face. He grabs her hair, tilts her head back sharply, and feeds his cock into her open mouth.
âOpen wider,â he growls. âTake it all. Choke on it while he drills your sloppy cunt.â
Sullyoon gags immediately, throat convulsing around him, but he doesn't let up. He fucks her mouth in steady, deep strokes, matching Jihoon's rhythm in her pussy. Her body rocks between them, pussy stretched wide around Jihoon's thick cock, throat stuffed full of Director Oh's length.
The position hits you like a physical blow.
Sullyoon on her back, legs spread wide over the couch arms, Jihoon pounding her pussy deep, Director Oh fucking her mouth â exactly like Karina this morning on the toilet seat: Gaeul pegging her relentlessly, you in her throat, her body rocking helplessly between you both.
Your stomach twists violently. âThis is⌠this is how it looked.â
Winter notices your reaction. Her voice is barely audible. âWhat do you mean?â
You can't tear your eyes from the screen. You don't answer Winter and mumble to yourself: âIs this what she felt? Is this what I did to her?â
The guilt crashes over you. It's hot, suffocating and unbearable. You feel yourself throb harder against your pants, pre-cum soaking through the fabric.
You hate watching Sullyoon be used the same way you used Karina.
Winter shifts desperately beside you, thighs clamped so tight her knuckles are white. Her face is burning red. She presses one hand between her legs for a split second, then yanks it away like it's on fire. âI⌠I can't stop it. She's being destroyed and I'm⌠I'm turned on.â
You don't answer. You can't. The shame is too thick between you.
On screen, Jihoon speeds up, hips slamming forward with brutal force, cock disappearing deep inside Sullyoon with every punishing thrust. The couch groans under the impact. Sullyoon's moans are muffled around Director Oh's cock, but they're changing. Theyâre higher now. Needier. Less reluctant. Her hips start rolling up to meet Jihoon's thrusts.
Jihoon grabs her thighs, spreading her wider. âFuck yes. Look at you fucking yourself on my cock. Begging for it with your tight little hole. Tell the camera how much you love being our cumrag. Tell them you're nothing but holes for us to wreck and fill.â
Director Oh fucks her throat deeper. âThat's it. Take it all. Look at the camera while you get stuffed. Show them what a desperate little porn actress you are. Smile for the lens while he fucks your useless pussy. Smile like the whore you are.â
Sullyoon's eyes flick to the camera. At first it's reluctant, tears still streaming, but she forces a small, broken smile. Then another. Her lips stretch around Director Oh's cock as she smiles wider, dazed, drunk on the rhythm.
Jihoon raises his hand and slaps her clit hard. âSmile bigger. Show them how much you love cock. Show them how your pussy grips me every time I slam in. You're dripping like a faucet. You're gonna cum again, aren't you? Gonna squirt all over my dick for the camera.â
Sullyoon's hips buck harder. Her moans turn into desperate, slutty whimpers around Director Oh's cock. She's fully drunk on it now, pleasure overriding shame, body chasing every thrust, every slap of skin.
Jihoon pounds even faster, drawing out and plunging in with long, deep strokes, hips hammering forward with wet, filthy slams. The couch rocks like its about to collapse any moment. Sullyoon's pussy squelches loudly, slick gushing out around his cock with every withdrawal.
âLook at that,â Jihoon growls. âYour cunt's creaming all over me. You're a filthy little cumslut. Smile for the camera while I wreck this pussy. Smile while I breed you like the breeding bitch you are.â
Sullyoon smiles wider, dazed, glassy-eyed looking directly into the lens as Jihoon slams into her over and over.
Director Oh grips her hair tighter, fucking her throat deeper. âThat's it. Gag on it. Choke on it while he fills your cunt. You're gonna take both loads again. You're gonna be leaking cum for days. Smile while we use you like the disposable fucktoy you are. Gotta train that stupid smile for the shoots youâre gonna get.â
Sullyoon convulses as another orgasm rips through her. Her pussy clamps down like a vise around Jihoon. Her muffled scream vibrates down Director Oh's shaft. Her body shakes violently, legs kicking weakly over the couch arms.
Jihoon groans. âFuck⌠she's squeezing me so tight. Gonna fill this greedy hole.â
He slams deep â once, twice, three times, four times â hips pistoning relentlessly, each thrust driving her body up the couch. Then he buries himself and cums with a roar. Hot pulses flood her. Sullyoon shudders, body convulsing in yet another forced climax, walls fluttering around him.
Director Oh pulls out of her mouth, stroking fast until he cums across her face. Thick ropes land on her cheeks, lips, chin. She flinches, but her tongue darts out instinctively, tasting it, smiling dazedly at the camera the whole time.
They pull out and step back, admiring the filthy art.
Sullyoon lies there, legs still spread wide, cum leaking from her pussy in thick streams, face streaked with semen and tears. Her small tits heave with every ragged breath.
Her eyes clear slowly.
The haze fades.
She blinks, slowly gazing down at herself â cum dripping everywhere, pussy swollen and red, body trembling. Horror floods her face.
She curls into a ball on the couch, hands covering her face.
âNo⌠no⌠I⌠I enjoyed it⌠why did I enjoy it⌠I came so many times⌠I smiled⌠I begged for itâŚâ
Quiet, broken sobs shake her body.
âIâm sorry⌠Iâm so sorryâŚâ
The video cuts to black.
To be continued...
***
Hehehe, who's your favourite character after Part 5!
Kim Gaeul
Karina / Yoo Jimin
Winter / Kim Minjeong
Ahn Yujin
Sullyoon / Seol Yoon-A
Sakura Miyawaki
Jihoon
Blueprints Of Us (pt. 2)
IVE WONYOUNG x male reader
Word count: ~8.9k A/N: uhhh ignore all the grammatical errors guys, iâll fix it later masterlist â previous part | next part â
*This is all fictional.
ââââââ ââ â ââââââ
Mapo-gu, Seoul
You woke up before the alarm. The morning light filtered through the blinds and your ceiling stared back at you, smooth with that one little line where the paint never quite dried evenly. Yup, home.
The flight back to Korea had done something to your spine, or maybe it was the way you had slept for hours trying not to think about her. You sat up slowly, your body was stiff and unsatisfied since sleep hadnât done what it was supposed to do.
Mapo was quiet this early. Your apartment was modest, thoughtfully designed. It sat near the edge of Yeonnam-dong. Not big, but it was yours. A unit on the second floor of a three story walk up, one of those multi-use buildings with clean renovations and just three other tenants.
You finally swung your legs over the edge of the bed and dragged yourself to the bathroom. Brushing your teeth in silence and splashing cold water on your face, you ran a towel over your jaw and stood there for a long second, just breathing in and out, knowing damn well you werenât ready to be him yet - the aspiring architect who had things to do, places to be.
Walking out to the living room, you sat on the sofa for a few minutes, not thinking or not planning, just⌠pausing. Without any planning, you pulled out your phone and tapped the photo gallery. Dumb photos in Hong Kong. Site visits. Sketches. Drinks with friends. And then-
Right, Jimin.
You stared at those photos, one longer than the rest, her birthday, maybe. A blurry shot of her laughing in a red sweater, leaning into your shoulder. You didnât know how to feel anymore, after Hong Kong.
What is she doing now?
You thought for a bit too long before making the decision. You tapped.
One.
Two.
Three⌠Too many photos.
Confirm. Delete. Photo by photo. Memory by memory. All deleted now. It was on this same couch a few weeks ago that youâd cried your eyes out, after she dumped you. Youâd stayed there all night, rethinking your life choices. And now? You didnât even know. You exhaled slowly, setting the phone down.
What should I have for breakfast today?
Your phone vibrated suddenly.
Who is it?
[ěë ě´đ°] sent 1 image.
good morning oppa
back to reality already? or still thinking about me?
The photo was a close up selfie. She wore a white face mask, bangs held up with a roller. Her mole, just under her right eye, stood out more than usual. It was stupidly cute, maybe even too intimate for someone you werenât even dating. Jimin used to do things like this too. But it didnât feel the same.
Why am I even thinking about Jimin?
You didnât have an answer for it. But with Wonyoung right now, it felt like something new was trying to start. And you werenât sure if you deserved it yet. You ran your hand down your face, trying to think of what to reply instead of backing down whenever things got too close too quickly like you used to do.
[You]
still thinking, maybe thatâs your fault
how was your flight back home?
sorry i couldnât text you last night. too tired and fell asleep immediately when i got home
[ěë ě´đ°]
omg u finally replied
i was starting to think u were ghosting me ><
do you have work today?
[You]
no i was just tired
yep i was about to get ready for work
why? do you want to do something?
[ěë ě´đ°]
maybe
just something to eat?
casual thing
unless u are too busy being a serious architect~
Another text followed immediately, just when you were about to seriously think about it.
[ěë ě´đ°]
i meanâŚ
im free tonight
and i look really pretty today, oppa
You smiled. Of course she made it sound casual. Of course she had to slip that part in. You could even imagine her voice saying that, like she wasnât asking but daring you to say no. You typed slowly, carefully - not too much, not too eager.
[You]
iâll try and get off work a little early for you. what time are you free?
send me the address, iâll come pick you up
[ěë ě´đ°]
look at you~ such a gentleman
picking me up and everything
is 7.30 ok? itâs this place in sangsu dong
i heard the food is good, also the lighting is nice⌠just in case we take pictures
iâll send you my address later
The corner of your lips slowly pulled upward.
and wear something dark, oppa
you look good in those colors
You smiled again, fully this time. The lighting, pictures, dark colors; it didnât feel like a casual meet up, but a mood she wanted to set. You didnât answer right away. Maybe tonight was already the beginning of something. Something new. You werenât sure what it really was. But you werenât going to walk away from it either, not this time.
Mapo was still shaking itself awake when you drove to work, rolling past narrow cafes getting ready to open, delivery trucks parked on the side of the street, a rich looking woman walking her dog in slippers and an oversized coat. It was July - too humid for that, but maybe thatâs how people were around here. Always dressing like someone is watching.
Turning into the narrow alley behind your office building, you locked the car and slung your backpack over your shoulder. Your friend looked up from his screen as you walked in, chewing on something that looked like leftover food.
âYou look well rested, that girl you met in Hong Kong still texting you?â he asked.
You didnât answer right away, instead giving him a lazy hum underneath a smile.
âSo thatâs a yes~â he whistled. âYouâre in trouble, man.â
You didnât deny. Maybe he wasnât wrong.
The morning passed slowly like usual and you kept your head down mostly, tuning out your surroundings. Around eleven, your bossâs voice rang out from the back.
âHaejoon-ah. Got a sec?â
You glanced up from your screen and grabbed your notebook. He didnât look up as you walked in, already scrolling through something on his tablet.
âClose the door.â
You did.
âWhat about Hong Kong?â
You spoke. Updates on the renovation proposal, logistics stuff, something about budget, material revision. You flipped to the right page in your notes, answered what needed answering. Routine stuff, nothing out of hand. Just as you were about to leave, he leaned back in his chair and gave you a look.
âOh, what about that girl? Was it Wonyoung?â
âWhat about her, hyung?â you blinked.
âYeah, the one who made you agree to work with her on the spot. You havenât told me much about this mystery person.â he smirked, too sharp to be harmless. âCome on, weâre too close for you to hide things from me.â
âI mean⌠we texted, like a lot after that day.â
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching you too closely now.
âOkay⌠do you like her?â
You gave a small shrug, trying not to give too much away.
âSheâs fun to talk to. Iâd say a mix of cute shyness and confidence. Sharp. Easy going.â
âYou talk about a girl like sheâs a design brief. I know thereâs something about her.â
You huffed a short laugh.
âI donât know what you want me to say, hyung.â
He waited, quiet. Not pushing but not letting you off the hook either.
âShe wasâŚshy but got flirty after drinking a bit that night.â you admitted after hesitating for an awkward moment.
âBut also honest. She saw that picture I took with that chaebolâs daughter and her model friend. Maybe she got a little jealous and pinched me.â
âShe pinched you?â he didnât expect that part.
You nodded, reenacting what Wonyoung did to you that night - the way her fingers rested on the back of your hand before pinching twice. He watched you do it before shifting to another topic more carefully.
âAnd⌠Jimin?â
Your fingers paused in the air.
âItâs over, hyung.â
âAre you still thinking about her?â he asked after giving you a slow nod.
You didnât answer right away, slowly letting your hands fall to your sides with a lazy exhale.
âDefinitely much less than before.â
Your boss leaned forward, elbows on the desk.
âYou donât have to rush it, you know. Donât do it because you want to forget about your ex quickly. That thing never works.â
That you already knew, your boss paused for a bit before shifting slightly in his chair.
âSo, that floral studio thing. How serious is that?â
âShe wants it done right. Itâs not just some cute idea. Theyâre serious about it. I said Iâd help⌠without going through you first. But that also means one more deal for us.â
âYou know I donât micromanage. And you told me about it that night already, Haejoon-ah.â he said. âIâm okay with that. I trust your call.â
âThanks, hyung.â
âJust brief me properly once things are agreed. Site conditions, budget, whatever comes up. Do the heavy stuff, Iâll handle the boring stuff.â
âPaperwork.â you reaffirmed with a little chuckle.
âYeah. Client agreement, contractor docs, other things. Leave that to me.â He grinned, raising an eyebrow at you. âWhat? Until you get your license, Iâm still the one who has to sign everything.â
âI just hit the requirement this year, hyung.â
âI know.â he smirked. âScary how fast that came, huh? Youâre almost legit now.â
You rolled your eyes. âIâve been legit.â
âLegit? Sure. Legal? Not yet.â
You were already halfway to the door when you added, offhandedly. âIâm picking her up tonight, by the way.â
âDinner?â
âMmm, somewhere in Sangsu-dong.â
Impressed, he immediately answers with a hum. âDamn. Back from Hong Kong with a new girlfriend?â
âAlright, alright. See you later.â
That day, you left the office earlier than usual. But the second you stepped into the parking spot, something shifted. The car was clean, youâd asked your friend to have it washed a few days ago and vacuumed inside just last weekend. But here you were, standing there, staring at it like something wasnât right.
But here you were, standing, staring at it like something wasnât right. You opened the door, checked the dashboard, adjusted the position of the phone mount even though it was fine. Brushed an invisible speck off the console. Straightened the folded umbrella in the backseat. You werenât fixing anything. You were⌠just stalling.
On the way home, you stopped by a convenience store and picked up two bottles of water, just in case. A few light snacks and hangover relief drink, just in case you two drank and wine turned her red, maybe also a pack of gum for the ride. She didnât ask for anything but you liked being prepared. Even if you didnât know how the night would go, you could at least make sure she was comfortable.
You got home just in time to shower quickly and changed into something dark, like she said. You checked all your belongings and rushed to the car before you had time to overthink anything else.
[ěë ě´đ°]
here~
im hanging around this place with my friend near this place
text me when you get here oppa
Garosu-gil - trendy, expensive, the kind of street where fashion enthusiasts shop and YouTubers walk around to interview influencers. But still, one more stop before picking Wonyoung up. Youâd swung by a small flower shop, standing there longer than you meant to, staring at everything like you studying for an exam.
âItâs for someone who knows flowers, imo.â you said. âSheâs very into floral work⌠This is my first time taking her out, she said itâs just a normal hangout but I want to impress her.â
The auntie glanced up from where she was wrapping a bouquet. Her eyes softened.
âOh my⌠how sweet. Youâre so thoughtful! That alone should impress her.â
You scratched the back of your neck, embarrassed.
âI donât know too much about flowers so maybe you could help me, imo.â
âOf course. Lucky for you, I almost closed ten minutes ago.â
âReally?â
âMm, I had a feeling someone nice would stop by today.â
Weird.
She hummed softly as she moved through the buckets, pulling a few delicate freesia stems, soft ranunculus and some spray of greenery carefully.
âLetâs keep it light and gentle.â she said, wrapping bouquet in kraft paper and tied it neatly. âThere. Give it to her properly, okay?â
You paid and bowed before taking it carefully. âThank you, imo.â
âDrive safe. And tell her sheâs lucky too.â
You got there at 7:17 and found a parking spot just a few blocks away. Turning off the engine, you stepped out to the sky that was already darkening, street buzzing with people heading out.
[You]
iâm here. across from the cafe with the green sign.
You leaned against the passenger side of the car and waited, checking your reflection in the window, trying not to make it too obvious all while glancing the bouquet in the passenger seat every few seconds. Just as you were about rethink your choices, you saw Wonyoung walking out the corner with a friend, laughing at something.
She turned as her friend pointed toward the car, eyes quickly landing on you. And just like that, your heart did something it hadnât done in a while. Not because Wonyoung looked good, she did, but also because she looked like she was genuinely happy to see you.
Wonyoung crossed the street and her friend peeled off in the other direction, not without giving you a quick look over, maybe to check if you were worth the hype. You tried your best not to react and only kept your gaze on Wonyoung. She walked with that easy kind of confidence, no effort but some people still turned their heads.
When she got close, she waved with one hand, shining with a smile so natural like the two of you had done this a thousand times before. And that was when you noticed, her bangs were gone. Her forehead was bare now, clean and open. A small change but it sure made her look different.
You straightened your posture when Wonyoung finally reached the car. For a few seconds, things almost turned awkward as neither of you said anything. You, holding the door. Her with both hands at her sides, suddenly shifting her weight. She looked up at you.
âHi.â
Gentle, quiet, like she forgot how to use her voice.
âH- hi.â
That made Wonyoung laugh under her breath. She looked away and brushed her hair behind her ear, the edge of her lips pulling in like she was trying not to grin too much.
âYouâre not gonna say anything about my hair, oppa?â
âI was about t- to...â you quickly replied. âYou look really beautiful.â
Wonyoung looked at you now, this time not hiding the way her cheeks warmed.
âYou too, oppa.â
She stepped closer when you stepped aside, finally glancing at the passenger seatâs window. And when she saw what was waiting there, her whole expression shifted.
âWait⌠Are those-?â
Before she could finish, you just smiled and opened the door for her to see. Wonyoung got a clear look at the bouquet then back at you, letting out a giggle, soft and shy. The sound really made you feel like you made her whole day.
âOh my, you got flowers?â
âYouâre into flowers, I had to try.â
She looked at the bouquet again before sliding into the seat, still smiling.
âYouâre dangerous, oppa. You know that?â
You closed the door gently behind her, still smiling like a fool as you made your way around to the driverâs side. Neither of you said anything for the first few seconds. Just the quiet hum of the AC, the quiet city outside the windows and the soft rustle of the bouquet in her lap. You adjusted the mirror before looking her way.
âCan you type the address in for me?â
Wonyoung nodded quickly, like she was waiting for you to speak first.
âMm, here.â She reached for the screen. âItâs in Sangsu-dong. Shouldnât be too long.â
The road opened up in front of you, quiet and slowly. A few blocks passed, Wonyoung settled back into her seat, bouquet still in her lap. Then, like she couldnât help it anymore.
âAre you nervous, oppa?â
You glanced at her, eyes flickering back to the road just as fast.
âA little.â
âMe too.â she smiled.
âWhy are you nervous?â you chuckled, genuinely curious. âWeâve been texting a lot since that day. And you werenât exactly shy in Hong Kong either.â
Wonyoung blinked, surprised. âHmm?â
âYou unbuttoned my shirt, leaned your head on my shoulder, pinched me when you saw the photo of me and the chaebolâs daughter with her model friend.â
She let out a soft laugh, not denying any of it.
âI did⌠and you didnât stop me.â
âI didnât know I was allowed to.â
âAnd I had a little wine.â
âYouâre blaming the wine?â
âNo.â Wonyoung tilted her head, still smiling. âBut the wine helped. I still meant everything I did and said.â
That made you chuckled lightly, hands tightening slightly on the wheels. Wonyoung shifted, the bouquet crinking lightly in her lap as she reached for her phone.
âThis wrappingâs really nice, oppa.â she said casually while holding the flowers up just enough to get the right angle. âNot really overdone. The paletteâs soft⌠maybe a little wild.â
She tapped the screen twice to adjust the light before snapping a photo. âGood taste.â
You shook your head, smiling to yourself.
âUhh, thatâs all the flower shop auntie. I just told her you were hard to impress.â
Wonyoung gave a satisfied little laugh, already typing something. She looked at the photo for a few seconds, adjusted the filter slightly before tapping one final button. You didnât ask, but you were damn pleased that youâd already made this much progress.
âYou can play music, if you want to.â
She looked at you, eyebrows slightly raised. âReally?â
âYeah, anythingâs fine.â you gave a small nod.
Wonyoung smiled at that like she knew exactly what that meant and reached for the screen. âYouâre giving me too much power right now.â
The song she chose was warm, melodic. The more it filled the car, the more it made sense. Of course this would be her choice. You drove in silence, letting the music settle in for a bit before asking, quietly.
âWonyoung-ah.â
âHuh?â
âAre you thirsty?â
She glanced at you, lips pouting, then nodded a little.
âUmm⌠maybe a little.â
You reached one hand back behind your seat, careful not to swerve and pulled out a cold water bottle and a small bag of snacks. Nothing fancy but you hoped it was enough to impress her.
âI got you some water, just in case.â you tried not to sound too nervous, setting it gently into the cup holder.
âAnd⌠some light snacks too. If youâre hungry before we get there.â you set the snacks on her lap, next to the flower bouquet.
Wonyoung gave a surprised hum, staring down at what youâd handed her before looking back at you, voice soft. âYouâre full of surprises, oppa. I didnât think youâd think that far.â
You pretended to check the mirror, hiding the warm feeling on your cheeks. The car felt warmer all of a sudden, or maybe it because of her.
âI mean⌠I have to when Iâm with you.â
Wonyoung looked away quickly too, uncapping the bottle and taking a sip, trying to hide her smile. Still, you caught the way her cheeks turned a little pink.
A little while later, the two of you were seated at the restaurant, you across from her. You both started with a salad. Wonyoung ate it slowly, with one hand curled lightly at her chest as she took each bite.
Huh, cute.
âHow was it?â you asked.
She looked up, smiling softly.
âItâs good, oppa. Really balanced.â Another hum. âI like that they donât overdress it. A lot of places try hard.â
You nodded and took a bite yourself, but your eyes couldnât help but stay on Wonyoung. She looked effortlessly put together. A soft ivory shirt with delicate straps and ruffled edges, something simple but screamed elegant. Her hair was tied up in a neat bun, with a soft scrunchie tucked at the back. A few strands framed her face just right.
With the lighting in the restaurant, she looked like an actress straight out of a soft romance. Then she made this face, cheeks puffed slightly, brows raised like she was reacting to something in the salad. Your heart dropped and stumbled. Without much thinking, you pulled out your phone.
âYou look too cute right now.â
She looked up, mid bite but amused. âHmm?â
âJust eatâ you lifted your phone up, finding her good angle. âIâll take pictures for you.â
It made Wonyoung laugh, covering her mouth with one hand while still holding her fork in the other.
âYouâre not serious, oppa.â
âIâm not kidding. You look great in this lighting.â
She gave you a look, a mix of playfulness and shyness, before straightening up a little in her seat, adjusting her posture slightly.
âGet my good side, oppa.â
And just liked that, she smiled and posed for you. Those bubbly eyes told you she enjoyed this more than she let on.
You snapped a few quietly, steady hands while trying to get it right. This mattered too much right now, right? When you lowered the phone, Wonyoung immediately reached across the table with both hands, palms open.
âLet me see, please.â
You hand the phone over and she brought the phone close, analyzing slowly.
âWhoa⌠This is really good.â she looked up, genuinely happy. âI was literally about to ask you to take pictures for me too, oppa. You just beat me to it.â
You shrugged, trying to play it off though you were sure your face was showing nothing more than pure shyness and happiness.
âI guess Iâm learning how to lead you.â
âYouâre kinda⌠good at this.â she blinked, caught off guard before hiding her face before the phone, trying to bite back a smile. âLike not just the pictures. The whole thing too.â
The main course came not long after and Wonyoung lit up the moment it landed.
âOoh. Wait, take pictures of this too, oppa.â
You smiled, obeying immediately. âYou want only you or you and the food?â
âBoth, obviously.â she rolled her eyes playfully, adjusting her posture. âMake it look candid.â
You played along with the same eye gesture, still catching her mid pose as she faked cutting her steak.
âPretty⌠Okay, a few more.â
Wonyoung fixed her hair, elbows on the table, angling her face just right on her fingers.
âOkay, yes. Like that.â
You snapped a few more, doing your best to stay cool but your heart was thudding so hard.
âThatâs beautiful. Okay, eat it before it gets cold.â
âYouâre weirdly good at this, oppa. Have you done it before?â she said, hand reaching for the water.
âIâm just a fast learner.â
Wonyoung shot you a look, lips pouting like she was a bit skeptical.
âYou want me to cut it for you?â
âAre you offering?â she smiled slowly, flustered.
You reached for her plate without saying anything, pulled it toward you and cut it into neat, bite sized pieces. She watched you, chin resting lightly on her hand.
âYou didnât have to.â her voice soft as she sang pleasingly.
âI know. Thatâs why I did.â
Her eyes met yours and it really felt like she wanted to say something but decided not to. You slid the plate back to her, now perfectly cut.
âThere you go.â
âHmm, that was smooth, oppa.â
You smirked, picking up your fork again. âYou said I was good at this.â
âI didnât think youâd be that good.â
She took a bite, cheeks a little pink, and the two of you eased back into a light hearted conversation.
âWhatâs work like these days?â Wonyoung dabbed her lips with a napkin, blinking at you across the table.
âUmm, busy. Iâm juggling a few projects. One of them just got approved, so thereâs a lot of back-and-forth.â
âIs that the hotel renovation thingy in Hong Kong?â
âThat oneâs almost done.â You smiled. âThis one is smaller. A studio.â
âOh? What kind of studio, oppa?â
âA floral studio.â you said casually, watching her expression.
She narrowed her eyes, playful and pleased at the same time.
âMmm~ sounds familiar.â
You chuckled. âYes, really familiar.â
Wonyoung took another bite before leaning forward, chin on her palm. Damn, she was really gorgeous.
âAnd your MBTI, oppa. You never fully told me that day in Hong Kong.â
âYou got close⌠but not quite.â
âMmmâŚâ she tilted her head, thinking. âYouâre definitely not an E. Quiet, calm but not passive.â
âKeep going.â you took a bite of your steak as Wonyoung squinted at you.
âYou seemed like a T at first, oppa. I think you pretend to be all logical and chill but I feel like you care a lot more than you show.â
You smiled slowly. âStill not done guessing?â
âNope. Iâm invested now.â she tapped her fingers against her cheek, thoughtful.
âISâŚTJ? No, wait. ISTP?â
You looked at her long enough to make her lean forward more before finally shrugging. Teasing Wonyoung like this felt so fun, the reactions were so worth it.
âMaybe.â
She narrowed her eyes, lips forming a small pout.
âOppa~! Just tell me.â
âI meanâŚâ you leaned back, wiping your mouth with the napkin. âYou did get kinda close.â
âKinda? I was right, wasnât I?â
âWere you?â
âAhhh~â she pretended to scream before sinking back in her seat with a huff. âYouâre annoying, oppa.â
âBut youâre enjoying this as much as I do, arenât you?â
Wonyoung looked away but not before you caught her blush creeping back in. âWhatever, I know Iâm right.â
You shook your head as you were about to reach for your water, very much satisfied with yourself when out of nowhere-
âYouâre the kind of guy that doesnât always say what he feels but thinks about it all the time, right?â
Her comeback came faster than you expected, playful and confident. Your gaze moved to Wonyoung and she was watching you carefully now. Before you could respond, the waiter returned and placed down the dessert.
âHmm.â she sang quietly , still half watching you as the waiter left. âThat looks delicious.â
You tried to put on the most casual smile you could, hoping she wouldnât come back to it. The woman knew she hit you in the right spot, her lips showing a hint of a victorious smirk.
âOkay, oppa~ One last time. Take pictures for me?â
Lucky. You reached for your phone again, already smiling.
âYouâre getting spoiled.â
âMmm, I know.â she confirmed, tilting her head to lure you in with her charm. âAnd I like it.â
You liked it too, more than you admit.
You took the photos and showed it to her. Wonyoung just nodded, pleased and dug into the dessert with a happy smile. The rest of the night eased into warmth again, that little playful tension from earlier melted between bites of cream and bits of laughter. When the bill came, youâd already handed your card to the waiter without saying a word. Wonyoung noticed but didnât fight it, just smiled quietly to herself.
As soon as you stood from the table and walked out the restaurant, Wonyoung was beside you and hooked her arms through yours like sheâd been waiting for this moment to come. She leaned into you just enough to feel close but not clingy.
Wonyoung was light on her feet, humming softly. You opened the car door for her, but she didnât get in. She stood there for a second, eyes drifting down the street with her lips pursed in thought.
âOppa.â she said shyly. âI⌠donât want to go home yet.â
Hey, just what you were thinking too. So you stepped a little closer and slipped your jacket off, draping it over her shoulders. Wonyoung waved her arms in little motion as if that could hide the gentle redness on her face.
âGet in.â you smiled. âWeâll drive around for a while. I donât want to go home either.â
Sangsu-dong blurred gently passed the windows as you drove, without rush or reason. You both didnât say much, Wonyoung sat quietly with your jacket pulled around her, hands tucked into the sleeves. Her bouquet now rested in her lap again. She looked out the window with Seoulâs night lights shining on her face in flickers of yellow and red.
âWhere are we going, oppa?â she asked eventually, soft.
âWanna stop somewhere for a bit?â
âWhere?â
âUhh, somewhere we can sit. Take in the view. Just for a bit.â
Her nod said more than words. Then she shifted slightly in her seat, reaching for the snacks you bought her earlier on the dashboard.
âYou really bought snacks and everything?â her tone light but fond.
âI told you.â you said, keeping your eyes on the road. âJust in case.â
Wonyoung opened one of the bags, took a bite and chewed quietly. Then she turned to you and hesitated for half a second before holding a piece up between her fingers and moved it near your mouth.
âOpen.â
You wouldâve been giggling and running laps like a schoolgirl right now had you not been driving right now.
âWhat happened to being shy, miss?â
âIâm still shy.â she mumbled, the blush on her cheeks gave her away. âJust something for you⌠since you took pictures for me.â
You leaned in slightly, still focused on the road but let her feed you the piece.
âHmph.â she huffed, embarrassed but now grinning. âYou didnât even hesitate, oppa.â
âDidnât want to waste the moment.â
She shook her head, holding in a laugh and fed you another, less hesitation this time. The car was filled with soft music and silence that didnât need fixing. You pulled off the main road and followed the slope down toward a quieter part of the riverbank. The lights of the city blinked gently across the water, the bridges in the distance humming with movement, none of it felt loud.
You parked, got out and opened her door before she even reached for the handle. Still in your jacket, bouquet in one hand, Wonyoung followed you to a bench that sat not too far away. She sat first, pulling your jacket tighter around her. You sat down beside her.
For a moment, the two of you just looked at the view. Faint ripple on the river, bridge lights, Seoul at night. Silently but definitely not sneakily, Wonyoung leaned over and let her head rest on your shoulder. She let out a sigh, like something heavy in her chest had finally been released. You didnât move and just let her be, coming to realize that you hadnât felt this peaceful in a while.
âI havenât done this before, oppa.â
You glanced at her and hummed but didnât interrupt.
âLike⌠let someone in this far. This fast.â Her voice didnât tremble, but it was careful. âI know I come off as confident but⌠most of the time, Iâm also just trying to keep up with myself.â
You nodded, slow and steady, to let her know you heard everything.
âBut tonight⌠I didnât feel like I had to try so hard.â
Those words did it, fragile and real. You turned a little so her head sat more comfortably against you, taking a little inhale before finally speaking.
âYou told me that that night in Hong Kong too, you know.â
You felt Wonyoung shift a little in her seat, just enough for you to hear her a little better.
âTold you what, oppa?â
âEverything you just said. And that I better gain your trust.â You bit back a smile. âYou were a bit drunk. Maybe a bit bossy and territorial.â
Wonyoung then let out a small gasp, pulling back to look at you. Embarrassment and playful outrage was visible on her face.
âExcuse me? I was not territorial.â
âYou pinched me when you saw that picture.â you raised an eyebrow and reasoned.
âThatâs because you looked way too comfortable next to those girls.â she muttered, lips pouting.
âSo you admit you were jealous.â
âI was a little tipsy.â she countered, voice smaller now.
âStill cute, Wonyoung-ah.â
She went quiet after that. You did too, not because you didnât have anything to say, but because you didnât want to ruin the way your heart fluttered in the moment. And it wasnât long before Wonyoung leaned back on your shoulder again. No arguing. No denying. Just staying close. A breeze passed by, rustling the trees behind you.
âOppaâŚâ her voice was soft, hesitant.
âIâm here.â
Wonyoung stayed leaning against you, fingers fiddling with the bouquet.
âDo you⌠want to come in for a bit later?â the question came so suddenly. âMy house. Like⌠after this.â
You blinked, surprised. Right now? Wonyoung straightened, clearly aware of your silence and cleared her throat before clarifying.
âI- I was going to make some tea. And I wanted to show you some pictu- pictures of that place for the floral studio we asked you to help design. I saved them on my iPad.â
Not hearing an answer from you, she quickly added again.
âBu- but donât get the wrong idea, okay?â
âWhat kind of idea?â you asked carefully, fully understanding what she said.
âIâm not⌠like that. Iâm n- not easy or anything.â she said, cheeks flushing as the words tumbled out. âSo do- donât even think of taking advantage of me, oppa.â
âI wasnât going to.â You watched her for a moment, then let out the smallest breath of a smile. Wonyoung looked away, embarrassed, but you kept your tone calm. âI wasnât going to, Wonyoung-ah. I donât think about you like that at all. If youâre inviting me in just to make me tea and show me pictures, Iâll come in for exactly that. Nothing more.â
At that, Wonyoung finally turned and met your eyes. She bit her bottom lip, seemingly thinking. And damn, those eyes of her⌠always so bright and pretty.
âOkay.â
âOkay.â you repeated, smiling.
Wonyoung also smiled, the tension in her shoulder easing just a little before leaning into your shoulder again.
ââââââ ââ â ââââââ
Her apartment looked exactly like her. Soft lighting, muted pastels and little touches of elegance everywhere. Glass vases, nice curtains, fresh flowers. It wasnât all too much but from what you saw, you could easily tell Wonyoung came from money. Everything here was quietly tasteful, carefully arranged and effortless in the way expensive things often are.
Wonyoung slipped off her shoes and gestured for you to do the same before walking further inside like sheâd only just remembered you were still following her.
âOh, you can sit there oppa.â she turned to you with a smile. âIâll make us tea.â
She refused your help, waving you off with a confidence expression that left no room for argument. So you sat, taking in the space while she moved around the kitchen.
When Wonyoung brought the tea over, she settled beside you and pulled out her iPad. She showed you photos of the space she had her eyes on, a ground floor unit tucked in a street in Yeonnam-dong with great natural lighting.
âSo⌠I talked with Yena-unnie and Hyewon-unnie a lot about this.â she said, scrolling through the photos.
You nodded, listening as she showed you the pictures. She was right, it had potential. So you started explaining gently. What parts could be kept as is, what needed reinforcing, how you could utilize lighting, material balances⌠Not showing off, just answering her hopes with quiet precision. At some point, she stopped answering and just watched you talk, pretending to sip her tea.
âYou really know your stuff, oppa.â she said, almost like she was meant to talk to herself.
That pulled a surprise laugh out of you, making Wonyoung flustered.
âI mean⌠Iâd hope so. Iâm doing this for a living.â
Wonyoung replies with a soft laugh but the warm look in her eyes lingered. You took a sip of tea then set the cup down.
âBut again, we have to visit the place soon. I have to take a closer look. And I have to hear more from you, Yena and Hyewon too. Everything you guys want. How you guys want me to designâŚâ
Wonyoung perked up immediately, thoughtful.
âOoh! Do you have time tomorrow morning, oppa?â
âTomorrow?â You thought for a second. âI can make it work.â
The corner of her eyes crinkled, lips biting back a smile as her fingers played with the rim of her cup.
âThen⌠pick me up tomorrow? We can grab breakfast first. Just the two of us.â the smile finally came, she didnât even try to hide her intentions anymore. âAfter that, weâll swing by to get Yena-unnie and Hyewon-unnie. Then we can visit the place together.â
You smiled back at her, trying not to look too eager.
âSounds great. Iâd love to.â
And just like that, the night that had started with nerves and soft hesitation now had a quiet promise in it. For tomorrow, and hopefully more after that. Wonyoung leaned back slightly, stretching her arms and hugging one knee to her chest.
âSoâŚâ she tilted her head. âWhat do you think about my house?â
You glanced around again, thinking of the right words. âIt looks just like you. Warm. Elegant. Not trying too hard but⌠unforgettable.â
Wonyoung giggled at your answer, and you hoped youâd get to hear that pleasing sound much more in the future. Who wouldnât, right?
A few minutes later, you stood at the door while Wonyoung walked you out, still wrapped in your jacket. She handed it back reluctantly, her fingers lingering on the sleeves for a little longer.
âThanks for tonight, oppa.â
âThank you.â you replied. âFor trusting me. And for the tea.â
âPick me up tomorrow?â
âBright and early.â you nodded.
You were about to step out quickly to hide any sadness of ending the night right here when Wonyoung suddenly reached for your arm, pulling you back just a step. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek without any warning.
What?
âThat oneâs for dinner.â she smiled. Before you could react, she blessed your other cheek with another kiss, light and warm.
âThat oneâs for the flowers.â
Knees almost turning into spaghetti, you almost fell, not knowing what to say now. And that was when Wonyoung kissed you one last time, this one lasting just a little longer and dangerously close to the corner of your mouth.
âAnd that one,â she whispered, lips still close. â...maybe just because I felt like it.â
Soft. Knowing. Mischievous.
One more word from her and you would actually faint. Your eyes flickered to her lips and before you could stop yourself, you stupidly leaned in. Not too fast but carefully, like asking her but without words. And before your lips could meet hers, Wonyoung quickly lifted her hand and placed a finger over your mouth. Denied.
âNot yet, oppa.â she sang gently with a smile. âNot yet.â
You let out a breath, cheeks blazing before nodding.
âUmm, ok- okay. Iâm⌠Iâm sorry.â
Wonyoung let out a quiet laugh. Did she actually appreciate the effort and find it cute? Or was she playfully mocking you? Whatever, those three kisses were enough to fuel you for the next two weeks.
âYouâre cute when youâre shy, oppa.â
Fuck.
âYou kissed me like that⌠What was I supposed to do?â you rubbed the back of your neck, trying to recover.
âTake it like a man.â Wonyoung teased, eyes twinkling. âAnd wait your turn.â
And she stepped back with a softer smile and waved.
âGood night, oppa. Dream of me~â
You smiled, still a little dazed like the down bad fool that you were.
âG⌠Good night.â
ââââââ ââ â ââââââ
By the time you stepped into your apartment, everything felt a little surreal. You didnât even remember the drive back. The door clicked shut behind you and you barely managed to kick off your shoes before walking to the living room, crashing down face first onto the couch.
You laughed, giggled in the best way possible. Your jacket still smelled like her perfume. You hadnât felt like this in a long time, this stupidly happy feeling in your chest. Just then, your phone buzzed where it had slipped out of your pocket onto the couch.
[ěë ě´đ°]
are u back home safe, oppa?
[You]
i just got inside
collapsed straight onto the couch
[ěë ě´đ°]
ă ă ă i imagined that
donât fall asleep in your jacket~
[You]
i might just do that now that you mentioned it
it still smelled like you
[ěë ě´đ°]
âŚcreepy
but kinda cute
iâll allow it
You laughed to yourself.
[You]
what about you? no regrets inviting me in?
[ěë ě´đ°]
no regrets
i made great tea
and you wereâŚ
decent
[You]
excuse me? just decent?
[ěë ě´đ°]
okay fine
you were better than the tea >.<
[You]
iâll take that as high praise
[ěë ě´đ°]
u should, oppa
no man gets praised like that from the jang wonyoung
also⌠i liked how you talked about the floral studio
you sounded so cool
You stared at that one a little longer than you meant to, mouth opened with even realizing.
[You]
youâre gonna kill me
[ěë ě´đ°]
ă ă ă thatâs the goal
donât get cocky tho
[You]
iâll keep my ego in check
just in case the jang wonyoung wants to invite me in again
[ěë ě´đ°]
hmm⌠maybe
but donât get any wrong ideas, oppa
[You]
no weird thoughts
just excited for breakfast
[ěë ě´đ°]
good answer
now sleep, oppa. u have been working hard today
thank you for everything today~
[You]
you too
sweet dreams, wonyoung-ah
[ěë ě´đ°]
dream of me đ°
You locked your phone with the corner of your lips still curved up, staring at the ceiling like the world was finally spinning in the right direction. And yeah⌠maybe it was. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. The sound echoed through your apartment, too sharp for this hour. You glanced at the clock.
12:47 AM
Whoâd come to my house at this time?
Your brows furrowed annoyingly as you pushed yourself off the couch and walked slowly toward the door. No one ever visited this late unannounced. You pressed the button on the panel, and the screen lit up.
A figure was standing under the light. Disheveled. Crying. Wobbly. It took you a few seconds to recognize her.
Yu Jimin
She looked like she had just gotten out of a club. The black dress clung to her frame, sleek, modern, expensive. Her heels were high, too high for how unsteady she stood. Her designer bag dangled loosely from her hand, like she forgot she was holding it. Her makeup started to smudge at the corner of her eyes from crying too much.
She was stunning⌠and utterly wrecked. For a second, you forgot how to breathe. Staring at the screen, your heart pounded for all the wrong reasons. Jimin looked like a ghost of herself.
âPlease open the door for me, oppa⌠I canât take it anymore.â
You hesitated. Jimin sounded so broken. With a sigh, you opened the door. When you opened the door, she stood there, eyes welling. Before you could say anything a single word, she stepped in and kissed you, hard.
Her mouth crashed against yours with all force of desperation. Her hands clutched your collar like she was holding on for her life. It took you a second to even register what was happening. Finally, your hands came up to push her back firmly, not violent.
âJimin-ah!â you gasped, stepping away. âWhat are you doing?â
She stood there, her face crumbling.
âI miss you, oppa.â she said through a sob. âI made a mistake⌠I still love youâŚâ
All you could think about was the text on your phone. The warmth that was still lingering on your jacket. The girl who made you feel like tomorrow was something that was worth looking forward to again. And it wasnât Jimin anymore.
Jiminâs voice cracked, her knees then buckled. She dropped to the floor, arms wrapping around your waist as she collapsed into sobs.
âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry, Iâm so sorryâŚâ
You stood there completely caught off guard. The person clinging to you now wasnât the Jimin you remembered. Not the confident, bubbly girl you once knew.
âIâm so sorry, oppaâŚâ
This version of Jimin was unraveling. Suffocating on her own guilt. âPlease, I canât do this anymore.â she sobbed. âEverything is so hard without you in my life. I thought I could move on easily but I canât. I canâtâŚâ
You closed the door behind her and lowered yourself, crouching in front of her.
âJimin⌠you need to breathe, okay?â
She clung to you tighter, burying her face into your jacket.
âI thought youâd wait for me to come backâŚâ
You gently pried her arms from around your waist, guiding her to sit properly on the floor. Her hands were still shaking. You didnât have the heart to yell but you couldnât pretend that nothing had changed. Her crying didnât undo the silence she left you in back then. It also didnât erase the girl who had kissed your cheeks three times just an hour earlier and told you to dream of her.
Your phone buzzed on the table across the room. You didnât look at it.
âJimin-ah⌠let me get you some water, okay?â
Before you could stand, Jiminâs head tilted slightly, her nose scrunching slightly, that signature nose scrunch always did something to you back then. She leaned in closer, eyes sharp and suspicious as she sniffed the collar of your jacket that Wonyoung had spent over an hour curled against.
âWhat is that smell?â her voice dropped, confused. âWhat are you talking about?â
Jimin pulled back, hands grabbing at your cheeks, stopping mid motion. She stared at you and her expression changed abruptly. She wiped near the corner of your lips with her thumb, then again on both sides of your cheeks. Her lips trembled.
âOppa⌠youâve been with someone, havenât you?â The way she said it sounded like a fact, not a question. She then stood abruptly, anger now twisting with grief. âIs that why you wouldnât kiss me back? Thatâs why you looked at me like I was a stranger?!â
âJimin-ahâŚâ you stood quickly, hands raised trying to ease the situation.
âWho is she?â she shouted, grabbing your wrist. âWho the hell is that girl?!â
âStop, Jimin. Calm down!â
âAnswer me!!â
She pulled you toward her by your collar, eyes wild, hands trembling. You stared at her, breathing hard. The perfume, the kiss, the tears, the yelling - this wasnât the Jimin you knew and once loved. This felt like someone, not her.
Her grip on your collar only got tighter.
âWho is that bitch?â she hissed through her teeth.
âIâm gonna make you forget her, oppa. Iâll make you feel better than that bitch ever could.â
âJimin-ahâ your voice firm. âDonât say things like that.â
She didnât stop. Her words came out like knives, rage coating every single syllable. Jealousy. Regret. Anger. They all came crashing down at once.
âYou are mine, oppa.â she spat. âMine, Han Haejoon. How can you be holding someone else already? Didnât you beg me to stay that day, oppa?â
You shook your head and gently pulled your arms from her grasp. âYou ended it.â
âAnd Iâm back now!â
âToo late.â You finished her. You hadnât meant to sound so final, but it needed to be.
Jimin just stood there. Her breathing slowed, uneven as she realized her outburst wasnât working the way she wanted. She took a step closer, her tone now shifting into something fragile.
âI donât want to go home, oppa.â
You didnât answer and she blinked up at you, eyes glassy again, voice trembling in the way that she knew would make you weak.
âYou know I canât sleep alone when Iâm like this.â
That was low. Jimin knew damn well it was.
âLet me stay, oppa⌠just for tonight. Iâll be quiet. I just need someone.â
You hesitated, and she knew she almost touched your weak spor. Her hands brush your arm.
âI know you, oppa. I know that you, my baby wouldnât leave someone crying at his door.â
You shut your eyes, jaw tense. âJimin-ahâŚâ
But then her expression darken again, breaking through the sweetness.
âShe kissed you, didnât she?â
You opened your mouth to calm her down but she cut you with a scoff.
âThat fucking bitch! I can smell her on you. See her on you!â And too easy, her voice transitioned back into the sweet Jimin. âBut you still open the door for me, oppa. That must mean something.â
You let out a long breath, dragging a hand through your hair.
âJust⌠I- Just sleep in my room, alone. End of the conversation, no more. Iâll pay for your ride back home tomorrow morning and thatâs it. Weâre done.â
And just like that, the tears returned. Or at least, the sound of them. Her face contorted with sorrow, shoulders trembling.
âYouâre not even going to hold me?â Jimin whispered, voice cracking. âNot even tonight?â
You studied Jimin carefully. The crying⌠it sounded real but you werenât sure. She blurred the line between real pain and performance too well. Still, something inside you clenched just a little, maybe that soft spot she used to lean on.
âYou should shower.â
âWhat?â
âYou smell like alcohol. Iâll get you something clean to wear. While youâre in there, Iâll make you something to help with the hangover.â
She wiped under her eyes slowly. Her lashes were wet but her expression didnât match.
âAfter that, you sleep. Alone. Go home tomorrow.â
She hesitated, clearly not expecting that tone. Then she finally gave you a nod, almost like a child being scolded.
âOkayâŚâ
You turned and walked toward your room to grab an old hoodie and sweats for her. The soft click of the bathroom door echoed through the still apartment, followed by running water. You stood at your closet, staring at the folded clothes in your hand. You felt heavy for reasons you werenât sure. Jimin knew your weaknesses, too well. You turned and headed back out to the bathroom, knocking once.
âJimin-ah, Iâm leaving the clothes by the door, okay?â
No answer.
âIâm leaving them by the door.â
Still nothing so you simply exhaled and leaned down. Just as the door cracked open with a hiss of steam, Jimin stepped out. She hadnât showered. Her skin was dry. Her hair untouched. Not a hint of shampoo or soap. And worse, she wasnât dressed. Nothing on her but the trembling look in her eyes.
âI couldnât find the towelâŚâ
You knew she was clearly lying, your hands still holding out the clothes like they were some kind of shield between you and her.
âJimin.â
She stepped closer.
âDonât you miss me, oppa? Just a little?â
She stepped closer, her arms wrapped around your waist from the front, pressing her body against yours.
âWe used to sleep like this, oppa.â she murmured, voice soft and slow. âYou said I made you feel peaceful.â
Too exhausted for anymore of this, you reached down and gently took her wrist, unwrapping her hold from you firmly.
âLook at me, Jimin-ah.â
And she did, eyes wide, part pleading, part daring.
âDonât do this.â you said. âWe are over.â
She swallowed hard. Her lips quivered. âYouâre still kind, oppa.â
âMaybe I am. Maybe I am not. Thatâs why Iâm asking you to shower. Iâll make something warm for you. Eat, rest. Youâll go home in the morning. Youâre too drunk.â
Jimin stood there, breathing softly, looking for a crack in you, that old you that would take her back instantly. Eventually, she pulled her hands back.
âOkayâŚ.â she said, voice small.
Jimin slowly stepped back, turning toward the bathroom with the clothes youâd given her. After the door finally clicked, you stood there wondering what had happened to her. It had been over a month since things ended between you two. The heaviness that she had started when she walked in hadnât gone away, if anything, it grew heavier.
Was she always this manipulative? Even back then?
After she finished showering, Jimin sat at the kitchen table with damp hair and quietly ate the warm soup you made. Between spoonfuls, she tried again. Subtle touches, long stares, soft signs and memories that meant to wear you down. But you didnât respond the way she wanted, and after enough gentle but firm urging, she finally relented and made her way into your bedroom - silent, curling up in your bed like it still belonged to her, at least for tonight.
ââââââ ââ â ââââââ
In the middle of the night, long after the apartment had gone dead quiet, Jimin crept out of your room, her steps ghostlike on the floor. You were fast asleep on the couch, one arm over your chest, blanket half slipped down. She crouched beside you slowly, eyes scanning your face. Her fingers reached out, brushing out along your jaw, your cheekbone, then finally your lips, pausing there a bit too long. Jimin leaned in without hesitating, pressing a slow kiss to your lips like she was reclaiming something, whispering.
âIâll get you back, oppa. Youâll see.â
Just then, your phone vibrated on the floor beside you. Jiminâs eyes flicked down to see the screen lighting up with a name that made her breath hitched.
[ěë ě´đ°]
That name. That ridiculous emoji. Her fingers curled into fists before she could stop herself. Her lips that were still close to you now twisted into something tight.
So that was the girl that had taken her place.
The one you were smiling at now. Texting late. Dreaming about. Her heart pounded from rage, not heartbreak. Her gaze found its way back to you - dead asleep, peaceful, unaware, still wearing that scent from a girl named Wonyoung, not her.
ââââââ ââ â ââââââ
It Was Only a Week (Part 1)
~Le Sserafim's Yunjin (x Male Reader), 9.7k words (angst, fluff, non-smut), Part 1 of 2
HUUUGE thank you to @dotoliwrites and @iuchamjohta for beta reading and the amazing advice! You two are literally the best!
You always hated the airport.
The PA blared again, calling the same passenger for the sixth time. You unzipped the small pocket of your backpack, feeling your passport for the seventh.
It wasnât so much the building itself you hated. It was just⌠everyone acted like you felt. Like the airport was a house of perpetual anxiety, its people buzzing with stress. They moved too quick, double-checked too often. Even those sitting down exhibited the signs. The old lady across from you compared her ticket to the screen at the gate three times in a row.
Vacations were ironic. You saved up, willingly going through hours of stress at an airport just to relax for a week. Then youâd have to go through that same stress on the way back to your regular stress, life. Thinking about it gave you a headache.
Maybe the vacation would be good, though. Because your regular stress was hell. Life as a civil engineering student had drained every last remnant of fun from your life for the past three years. And for what? Three men in suits worth more than your tuition walked past, carry-ons in tow, rattling something about âquarterly meetingsâ and ânew HR docsâ. Would this be your life after school? Would your regular stress compound once you graduated, slowly morphing you into some corporation? Youâd rather be a gym bro.
Itâs not like you had a choice in the matter anyway. No matter how long youâd been avoiding them, your cousin made it very clear if you missed her wedding in Mexico youâd be dead to her and the rest of the family. Which was why now, in the middle of your final year of schoolâ just before your midtermsâ you sat at gate 104 waiting for your flight to Cancun.
The flight, though. You could look forward to that. 7 hours cut off from the outside world. The plane like a little capsules, closed off from that stress. 7 hours where you could slip your headphones on and turn your brain off. At least you could look forward to that.
You pulled out your new sketchbook and a finely sharpened pencil the border agent definitely gave you trouble for. You looked in front of youâ youâd been staring at the airport seats for an hour and a half, so long they morphed into desks. And you couldâve sworn that old guy didnât look like your professor half an hour ago. Maybe you needed a change of perspective.
You grabbed your bag (checking your passport was there one more time of course), before switching to a seat facing the opposite direction. You plopped down with your sketchbook.
And suddenly, the airport didnât seem so bad. A group of girls sitting 3 rows from you huddled together, staring at a phone. The one with the deep red hair guffawed, clapping her hands together as she laughed, followed by the other 3. Her hair was tucked behind her ears, laugh piercing the stale air. You watched as her legs lifted in the air from laughing so hard. Her face lit up, not only her expression, but the room.
One of her friends tapped her shoulder, showing her the phone again, and another outburst came. The four of them seemed so carefree, even joyous. Their fun was a far cry from what you thought airports could be. And yet, even the PA seemed happier, singing its little jingle before it called for a passenger for the seventh time now.
You looked away, conscious of your staring. You looked down at your sketchbook. This seemed like as good a place as any to sketch, especially considering the view. Your eyes occasionally (putting it lightly) flicked to the girl. Even while she sat, idly scrolling on her phone, she looked so comfortable. She was slid so far down her chair her head rested on the back of the seat, her shoeless feet plopped on the carry-on in front of her.
Meanwhile, you sat in your chair perfectly straight, carry-on neatly in front of you. You tried taking up as little space as possible, despite having the entire row of seats for yourself.
You looked down at your sketch. It wasnât goodâ youâd totally messed up the glass roof. There were 6 rows of support beams running through, not 8. That wasnât even mentioning the fact that there were missing details everywhereâ a pillar too wide, a clock not round enough. Oddly enough, the chairs were the only thing that looked picture perfect. You ripped the page from the book, crumpling it. A buzz from your pocket vibrated, and taking your phone out, a text from your Aunt read:
âCanât wait to see you! We just arrived. Have a safe flight!â
You swiped the message away, looking at the time. 8:27. Still another hour before boarding. You picked your sketchbook up again, starting over. You sat up a little straighter, shutting your eyes for a second in concentration. This time would be differentâ youâd produce a picture perfect sketch of the gate. You silently sketched, eyes flicking to the red-haired girl occasionally. You silently hoped sheâd be going to the same resort you were.
Itâs even worse than before, you thought an hour later as the first boarding call came in.
--
Of course, back of the plane. Right next to the washrooms. You plopped down in your window seat, tucking your backpack under the seat in front of yours. It seemed the plane had filled up, save for the two seats in your row. Lucky. You plopped your shoes off. It felt wrong, butâ vacation mode, you justified. You took your earphones out of your pocket, about to slide them into your ears when-
âBathroom seatsâ, a voice sighed. You looked up. The red-haired girl stood at your row, eyes flicking to yours. âAt least we donât have to go through it alone, right?â She said, sliding into the aisle seat. She kicked her shoes off as well, sliding her hoodie off her arms so it hung off her shoulders, hood still covering her head.
You sat there shocked. Wasnât this everyoneâs dream? Wasnât it a classic trope to see a cute girl at an airport and hope they sat next to you on the flight? And it was happening to you and oh god she was talking to you.
âEver been to Cancun?â she asked casually, as if you werenât strangers.
âOh⌠first timeâ, you responded after the initial shock wore off. You quietly slipped your shoes back on. Hopefully she didnât notice.
She stretched her arms in the airâ a moan inducing one by the sounds of it. âSameâ she groaned, settling in. âOh, my group was the last to board by the way. We got lucky, empty middle seat!â She lifted her legs, curling them on the empty seat. âLets split it? We can each have a half,â she said.
And she wasnât wearing shoes. Vacation mode it was. âSure,â you answered, but kept your feet where they were.
You sat in mostly silence as the flight attendants demonstrated the safety measures in case of emergency, but on take off, the girls breath hitched, and she held her armrests a little too tight.
The plane had evened out, and the general buzz of excitement from take off died down into amiable silenceâ thank God, no kids on the flight.
âHow are you so calm right now?â She asked, breaking the silence.
So much for 7 hours of quiet, you thought.
âWhy wouldnât I be?â you said, deciding you might as well talk. What else were you going to do? Ignore this beautiful girl for 7 hours? âPlanes are peaceful. I donât know how you were so happy at the gate, though, that place is hellâ
She eyed you curiously. âAt the gate? Did I meet you at the gate?â
âYouâd be hard to miss when you were laughing like a hyena every 20 minutesâ you joked. That was weird. You couldnât remember the last time youâd told a joke.
A smile lit up the girls face. âSomeoneâs got jokesâ she chuckled. âGuess Iâm sitting next to a stalker.â
âI wasnât stalking you, youâre just hard to missâ
âThanksâ, she said.
âWasnât a complimentâ
She gave a small chuckle. âYou know, youâre different than I expected. Not as quiet as I imaginedâ
You thought about it for a moment. You guessed it was true, most new people ignored you, let you exist as long as you didnât bother them. But for some reason, you just felt⌠comfortable around this girl. âI didnât always give that impressionâ you said after a pause. âI used to be⌠fun. Before three years of civil engineeringâ
âOh, STEMâ, she winced.
âYeahâ you sighed. âWhat about you. Not sitting with your group?â The question seemed to dig at her. She gave a short smile, and pulled out half a popsicle stick out of her hoodie pocket.
âGot the short end of the stickâ she said feigning cheerfulness. âSo I had to sit aloneâ
âThey made you sit alone?â you asked. She gave a short nod. âThereâs three of them right? Why wouldnât you just book it in seats of two and two, that way no one got left out?â
âThatâs some great math Mr. Engineerâ she jokedâ then sighed. âPretty sure it was rigged from the beginning.â
âWhat do you mean?â
âI⌠wasnât really invited on this trip, just a last minute replacement for someone who cancelled. Donât think any of them would want to spend 7 hours with the outsider alone.â
âReally? You all looked so friendly at the gateâ you said.
âSo you are a stalker?â She laughed. âAnd I picked my stick lastâ she said holding up the popsicle stick. âSo I think they mustâve known which stick was the shortest. Probably planned on isolating me from the beginningâ
âAnd now you have to sit next to a stranger.â
She gave you another smile, more genuine this time. âWell youâre not so bad, strangerâ she said. âAlso, can we go back to what you said before? Airplanes are calm?â
The next hour flew by too fast. You learned the girlâs name was Yunjin, here with a couple of girls from her new job on a âbonding tripâ. A couple of times you made Yunjin laugh so hard a lady 3 rows in front gave a smug âSHHâ.
You also learned she wasnât from your cityâ just happened to be at that airport on a layover.
âSo, what is it?â She asked. âWhy donât you seem excited for the trip?â
God, this girl. So damn friendly. Wasnât she scared of overstepping? She looked at you with large, curious eyes. âCousinâs weddingâ you sighed. âYou know, family.â
âYeah. Family,â she repeated.
âI love them but, itâs just- I havenât seen them in a while. And thereâll be questions. And expectations. How can I face them when they gave up everything to put me in school, to give my life meaning, when my life still doesnât have meaning? How can I act like Iâm living out my dreams when school is kicking my ass every day?â You lifted the armrest, kicking your feet up to your half of the empty seat.
âSchoolâs a bitch, isnât itâ she said. It was all she needed to say.
The conversation died down after another half hour. You wracked your brain for something to say, something to keep the conversation going. Talking to her was refreshingâ you already knew you wouldnât regret the trip, even if just for the flight. No matter how huge the pile of assignments awaited back home.
But it was clear the exhaustion from the flight was getting to you. You both sunk into your chairs. Something light hit your lap. You looked down, one wireless earphone. Yunjin had pulled out her iPad.
âWe have a little over 5 hours left. If we start now we can get through the first 2 Harry Potter movies, and a bit of the third one. Or I also have Jumanji downloaded.â
You smiled. âLets do Harry Potterâ
She smiled back. âKnew Iâd like youâ. Yunjin lowered the makeshift table attached to the back of the middle seat, placing the iPad down. You both settled in, and her legs awkwardly tangled in yours on the empty seat. You didnât mind. You slid your hoodie off your arms so it hung off your shoulders just like Yunjinâs, iconic melody of Harry Potter ringing in your ears 30 000 feet above the Atlantic ocean.
The rest of the flight flew by, pun intended. You sank into your seat, legs still thrown awkwardly onto the empty seat next to you. You had tried to take up as little space as possibleâYunjin was sharing with you after all. But it was clear Yunjin didnât mind by the way she plopped her feet on yours. You were acutely aware of the contactâ every ounce of you was focused on her legs on yours, the movie be damned. Every inch she moved made you jump, but by first half of the first movie youâd grown comfortable with the contact. You could feel the warmth of her skin through your sweats.
âRavenclaw?â She asked as the end credits of The Philosopherâs Stone climbed the iPad.
âHuh?â
âYour house. You seem like a Ravenclawâ
âOh. Gryffindorâ you answered.
âReally? Mr. Engineer values courage?â
âI guess, thatâs just what the test saidâ
Yunjin rolled her eyes. âBoring. Iâm a slytherinâ
âOh and me being Gryffindor is surprisingâ you mocked. âYou reek of Hufflepuff!â
âHufflepuff!â She exclaimed. âYou think Iâm a ditz?!â
âHufflepuffâs arenât ditzes. But the way you almost fell off your chair from laughter at the airport just screamed Hufflepuff.â
Yunjin lifted a leg, extending it to poke you with her sock covered toes. âYou are a stalkerâ she said with a click of her tongue. âI guess that means weâre enemies then, stranger. Gryffindor and Slytherinâ
You slid your hoodie off your head playfully tossing it at her. âItâs not a rivalryâ Gryffindorâs are clearly better. Now scooch. I gotta use the washroomâ
She scrunched her body, letting you pass. âDonât stink up the washroom, we sit right next to itâ she said.
You shimmied by her. Who knew the flight mightâve been the highlight of your trip. Honestly, you had been dreading this for a whileâ seeing your family, answering questions about school, plans and the future. You had enough on your plate trying to pass, and seeing your family would exacerbate those expectations tenfold.
But Yunjin was a breath of fresh air. She too was in an uncomfortable situation, stuck with a group of people on a trip she knew theyâd rather her not be on. But she faced it, and now she was with you, watching Harry Potter movies while bantering like youâd known each other for years.
But there was only a limited amount of time left. Who knew if youâd ever see her again once the flight ended. You looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Why did your hair look like it was tumbled in the dryer on high? Shit, you shouldnât have thrown your hoodie away, now there was nothing to hide the haybale on your head.
You leaned in close, brushing and patting, trying anything to fix it. It stood up no matter how hard you tried to quell it. You laughed at yourself. You couldnât remember the last time âyour hairâ was the architect of calamity in your life. Usually it was rent, or GPA, or maybe having a heart attack from stress and dying before you could even graduate.
But here you were on a plane to Mexico in the middle of the schoolyear, fixing your hair because you sat next to a pretty girl. You could already feel the stress trickle away.
No, it was definitely there. Even flicking back to the thought of school brought the sinking feeling back to your stomach. But then you saw yourself in the mirror again, thought about Yunjin, and the feeling diluted.
You resorted to wetting your hair with sink water (from an airplane bathroom? Gross) to at least settle the strays before heading back to the seat.
What awaited you was that same otherworldly beauty sitting in your seat.
âMy window seat!â
She smiled, not mischievous or playful, but genuine. âThanks for the seat stranger. Now hurry up,â she said, patting the middle seat and gesturing to her iPad, which now sat on the tray in front of her. âMovieâs startingâ.
She wants me to sit next to her, you thought, climbing into place. It was probably for logistics, because watching a movie on a small iPad 2 seats apart didnât make sense. So why did the feeling in your stomach return? This time not sinking but fluttering, as if the butterflies ate away the stress like leaves. I shouldâve brought a hat you thought as you settled in beside her.
--
All too soon the plane rumbled as it touched ground, misplaced applause ringing through the aircraft.
âWho the hell claps for a plane landing?â Yunjin laughed.
âNo idea,â you said, dropping your hands back to your lap. Hopefully she didnât notice.
The plane slowed gradually, yet every moment passed too quick. Every detailâ no matter how small or insignificant ran through your head as you tried to soak it all in. The way she threw her head back when she laughed. How sheâd stare at you, really look at you when you talked, or rolled her eyes when you said something stupid.
The plane stopped, seatbelt light clicking off as people rose to their feet.
You couldnât tell whyâ maybe because you were at the back of the plane, waiting for the rest of the congregation to file out, or maybe because she too was soaking up the time you had left, but neither of you moved for a while.
It wasnât until the seats had completely emptied, slow line out the plane growing thin did you two move.
âThey didnât even wait for me,â Yunjin sighed under her breath. You pretended not to hear.
She turned to you, carry on in tow, sunhat rimming her head. âWellâ it was fun! Call me!â She said, as cheerily as ever. As if it wasnât only 7 hours, and youâd see each other again. With a wave she was gone.
Wait, call me? Did she give you her number? You took your phone out of your pocket, checking the contacts. You scrolled through your contacts, but you didnât see any new contacts.
You turned to the front of the plane, hoping to tell her you didnât have her number; it was too late, the passengers had filed out. Sighing, you slipped your hoodie into your backpack before reaching for your carry on.
You didnât rush to catch up to herâ one because it wouldâve been way too embarrassing to confront her in front of her 3 friends, but also because⌠maybe it was better this way? It was only 7 hours. Were you really going to get attached? No, you had a whole life back home. A life that demanded all of you.
But, later that day, it didnât matter that the Sun threw its balmy glare on your skin, heating your sunscreened body, or that the piĂąa colada you picked upâ spiked with rum of course, vacation modeâ cooled you from the inside. As soon as you stepped out of the taxi and into the resort, you knew youâd rather be back on that plane with Yunjin. Especially as your Auntie Jessâs scream rang your name in the resort lobby, and sheâ and her kidsâ dashed in your direction.
--
It wasnât that you didnât love your family. You didâ you would go to the ends of the earth to make your Auntie Jessâs 2 kids happy. You looked at your baby cousins, bundled up in swimsuitsâ the oneâs with little floaties attached to the arms and legs. Your aunt droned on about the flight, the wedding preparations, how the rest of the family would be so excited to see you.
It was precisely because you loved your family that it pained you to be here. Because telling them what youâd been thinking for three yearsâ that you didnât know if you wanted to be a civil engineerâ wasnât an option. Especially given you had been sent to school on no scholarships or grants. Just the money out of your parents pockets. But lying to themâ telling them school was going great, or that you were excited to graduate, to be a real adult was taxing.
âOh, thereâs a casino hereâ, your aunt pointed. âBar is open all night. Your older cousins missed you last night,â she smiled, âand Iâm sure youâre itching to go, what, studying so hard. Weâre all so proud of youâ Agnes! Stop poking your brotherâ anyways, letâs go! Everyoneâs been dying to see youâ she exclaimed, leading you further on. You sipped the piĂąa colada faster.
The rest of your immediate family had commandeered two large outdoor tables. You lugged your belongings over to them. It was weird, youâd been dreading seeing them for weeks, but as your aunts and uncles pulled you into tight hugs, you were like a kid again. You were surprised how much you missed them.
Then the tears startedâ lead in charge by your mom of course. Why did moms always go for the cheeks? You swatted away her pinching fingers before she locked you in a tight embrace. Your dad silently nodded to you from his chair, sipping his beer. You nodded back. It was all you would afford each other, but now, after over a year of not seeing him, it was all you needed.
You honestly relished the feeling. âYou brought me to the old person table?â You said. It wasnât a very good joke, but the fact you made one told yourself lotsâ that you really did miss your family. That was twice today you made a joke. Maybe vacation mode was a real thing.
Your aunt Claire rolled her eyes. âYour other cousins are probably at the beach. Honestly those twoâ they havenât been sober since we got here!â
âLooks like I need to catch upâ, you replied.
And so you did. You finished your pina colada before your uncle handed you another. And it was great, sitting there, being with the people you knew loved you no matter what. Whom you apparently missed so deeply without even realizing it.
But then the comments came.
âHowâs school?â
âYou must be so proud of how far youâve come!â
âWhat are your plans after you graduateâ
Until a voiceâ all too deep, sort of nasallyâ cut through the chatter. âStop hounding the man, let him put his shit away first!â
âMinho! Sakura!â You yelled as your aunt Claire smacked the boy over his language. Your cousins wore the tropical vibe not only in their clothesâ a swimsuit with pineapples plastered all over for Minho, and a two piece for Sakura, with a bright sarong wrapped around her waistâ but also their demeanor. Laid back and clearly drunk, the sight of them stirred you to your feet.
You ran to hug them. Minho patted you on your back, stumbling a bit, and Sakuraâs face was flushed red. She was giggling, the smell of tequila heavy on her breath.
âLetâs show you to our room buddyâ Minho said, loud enough for your family to hear. âAnd hurry up putting your stuff away,â he whispered, âme, you, Sakura. Weâre getting sloshed this entire tripâ
--
Four drinks in and the weeks itinerary was a mix of letters and numbers.
âLook, all you need to know is thisâ Sakura said, a little too loud. âToday is Sunday - hiccup - Tuesday is wedding rehearsal, Thursday we have wedding shoots, Friday is the wedding, and Sunday we leaveâ.
The cool night air sang with the mariachiâs music. The resort was still buzzing with peopleâ it was only 8 pm. And you were already inebriatedâ vacation mode of course. The last rays of light stretched over the resort.
âOkay sorryâ whenâs the wedding again?â
Sakura rolled her eyes. âThereâs no way youâre still a lightweight. Iâd have thought 3 years of university would have upped your toleranceâ.
You smacked Sakuraâs shoulder. âIâm not a lightweight. I just havenât eaten since the plane. Plus, remember prom? It wasnât an hour into the afterparty before you were throwing up. I had to ditch my date for 20 minutes before Minho came to bring you homeâ where is that guy anyway?â
âProbably off with some girlâ Sakura said, smiling. âThereâs a buffet here. Letâs go? Iâm getting hungry tooâ, Sakura said, dragging you by the bicep. âI forgot about prom nightâ Sakura smiled. âYou know, you should visit more. Christmas and summers, me and Minhoâ we really miss youâ
You silently let yourself be dragged to the buffet, before the smell of slow braised meatsâ of cilantro and corn fill the air. Your stomach rumbled.
You and Sakura ate, laughing and reminiscing, and before long your minds began to clear and youâd ordered another margarita.
âHow many times do I have to tell youâ the wedding is on Friday! Just know, tomorrow you have off. We can go to the beach. But enough about thatâ your mom says youâre still single. What happened to the cousin I knew from high school?â
âYeah, well. School has been busyâ you said passively.
Sakura laughed. âSchool? Youâre seriously letting school get in the way?â She looked at the soft, embarrassed smile on your face. âWow, you really have changed. But youâre really not talking to anyone?â
You thought of the girl on the plane of course. Yunjin.
âCmon, spill it. I see that look on your face.â
âWellâ there was this girl. On the plane.â
âOn the plane?â
âYeah. Iâm pretty sure we snuggled. While watching movies.â The look Sakura gave you was a mix of amusement and skepticism. âAnd then she told me to call herâ
âSo call her!â Sakura lit up.
âThatâs the thingâ I donât think she gave me her numberâ
Sakuraâs eyes closed, clearly baffled and disappointed.
âMy cousin. My own cousin.â She repeated incredulously. âYou didnât even get her number? Well where is she staying? At this resort?â
You paused. âNo idea.â
Sakura sighed. âJust wait âtill Minho hears about thisâ she said, shaking her head. âWe should go find him,â she switched the topic, scarfing down the last bite of her fajita. âLast night we bribed one of the employees to keep the pool open past 9. Just for us.â
The rest of the night, aside from the embarrassment and realization youâd probably never see Yunjin again, was a relief. You had forgotten how much youâd missed Sakura and Minho, and even the rest of your aunts and uncles. You were honestly looking forward to meeting the rest of the family.
Well, for the most part. Your other cousin, Annabelle, was apparently in full bridezilla mode. Sheâd always been high maintenance, but there was a chill in the air even when Minho spoke about her. Maybe it was best youâd leave her alone tonight.
But it didnât matter as you, Sakura, and Minhoâ who had been off at one of the resorts many bars talking to a girl twice his ageâ swam in the pool backlit with LEDâs until the early morning.
You laid in your bed that nightâ room shared of course with Minhoâ drunk and dizzy, but oddly peaceful. Like⌠maybe things wouldnât be so bad. Yeah, your family had asked you some questions, but Minho saved you in the end. You were sure more would come, and youâd have to answer them eventually, but you could keep up. After all, it was only a week, right?
You opened up Instagram. Maybe, just maybe by some stroke of fate, youâd be able to find her. Yunjin, you typed in the search bar.
Nothing.
--
The next morning at the buffet, you definitely didnât regret coming. Breakfast definitely was the most important meal of the day, those who claimed it a myth be damned. You and Minho came back to the table with mounds of eggs, of chilaquiles and fresh fruit. God the fruit.
And in his other hand, Minho clutched three mimosas, because vacation mode of course.
âDrinking this early?â Your mother questioned.
âLeave the boy be, he works too hard. Heâs a couple months away from his engineering degree! Let him have his fun,â your Aunt Jess defended.
âSakura, did you tell him?â Your aunt Claire chimed in.
She rolled her eyes. âNo, mom.â
âOh tell him!â The older lady smiled. Sakura simply looked at you, embarrassed. âOkay fine I will. Thereâs this girl across the street from usâ just moved in! Iâve been telling her about you. About to be an engineer, handsome, responsible. Even Sakura thinks youâd look cute together!â
âI did not say that!â She denied. âI didnât think my cousin would need help finding someoneâ she said.
âWellâ it doesnât matter anyway. Iâm sure our big shot plans to stay in the big city,â your aunt Jess chimed in. âOr move somewhere fancy. How about it, whatâs your plan after you graduate?â
Suddenly your huevos rancheros didnât seem so appetizing. You rattled some response, answers with no real substance but enough to appease the masses (2 aunts, 1 uncle and your parents), before switching the topic.
âBut heyâ howâs Annabelle?â
It had your desired effectâ aunts and uncles always loved gossip. It was a rule of life. They rattled on, predicted when sheâd have kids, if the dress would be cream or blush or champagne white, who in the family would get married next.
âIâll meet you at the beach?â You whispered to Minho and Sakura in the confusion of gossip before quietly slipping away (mimosa still in hand). Walking passed the pools on your way to the beach definitely lightened your mood, and soon the white sands, flowing themselves like water gave way to the vast blue ocean. It was picture perfect. The sky was divine, disappearing into the ocean in the vast horizon as rays of the Sun bounced off the water.
Palm trees stuck out of the ground, young coconuts clinging to their branches. Beach balls idly flew past your head as you made your way down the beach, warm sand tickling your feet. And you swear you heard a seagullâ something you thought only happened in movies. You made your way left, pausing every once in a while to assess the view.
The beach was lined with resorts, and although you could walk to the other resorts sections of the beaches, you had told your cousins to meet you. You picked a spot near the left edge of your own resorts beach. The bordering resort seemed nice too, but a little more packed.
You settled on a beach chair, taking your sketchbook out. It was a relatively new hobby youâd found, drawing. But it helped you stay calm. And you were surprisingly good at it. Well, you thought so, it wasnât like anyone had ever seen your drawings.
You let yourself get lost in the lines you drew. In the fluffy clouds, scattered sparingly across the sky. In the sailboat, too far out you couldnât see anyone on it. And in the seashell, so large it looked fake. Every stroke careful, precise, exact.
âAnd here I was sad you didnât text me. Turns out youâd just followed me to the beach,â a familiar voice called out. You looked up, and it was like the Sun had jumped from itâs spot on the beautiful canvas you called the sky and walked up to you.
Yunjinâs deep red hair flowed freely out of her straw sunhat, sunglasses pushed up to the bridge of her nose. It was a miracle you noticed these two details considering the white two piece she was wearing didnât leave much to the imagination. Her skin seemed to glow in the sunlightâ no, like the sunlight.
She let her glasses fall to the tip of her nose, looking at you inquiringly. âSo? Why didnât you text?â
But you could see the smile she held back, and tossing your sketchbook on the beach chair, you stood. âYunjin!â
She let her smile show. âHey strangerâ
Funnyâ youâd been silently hoping to see her since you left the plane, but now that she was in front of you⌠why was it so awkward? You stood in front of her, unsure what to say, how to react at this miracle. âHow was I supposed to text you without your number?â
âWell, seeing as you were too much of a wuss to ask, I slipped it into your hoodie pocket while you were in the washroom. You didnât find it?â
âWhen did you expect me to use my hoodie in Mexico?â
âOh, rightâ she laughed. âWell, here we are now. On the same beach. It must be fate!â
âFate?â You laughed.
âWhat, you donât believe in fate?â She asked, patting the sand and sitting down into it.
You sat next to her, thinking for a moment. âWell, I definitely used to. But now, Iâm not so sure.â
âWhat do you mean?â She asked
âIs it my fate to disappear into my degree? Is that who I am now? Nothing more or less than an engineer?â
She leaned back into the sand. âSo, I take it your family has been asking questions?â
âJust like I predictedâ you sighed. âAnd what about you? Where are your friends?â
She gestured into the shallow waters, to three girls playing with a beach ball. âOff playing monkey in the middleâ she said.
âHmm. Three player gameâ
She put on her best smile, although her eyes, her eyes didnât light up the way youâd seen they could.
âItâs not like that. Not all of it. They asked me to play with them butâŚâ she trailed off.
âBut?â
âYou ever feel like people would be having more fun if you werenât around? Like theyâre not exactly rude, friendly even. But when it comes down to it, youâre kind of just⌠there?â
âYeah, I sort of get thatâ
She smiled. Real this time. âBut then I saw a stranger looking lonely over here and thought Iâd come bother him.â
You both leaned into the sand. It was so surreal, being here on this beach with her.
âHey, isnât this kind of surreal?â She asked.
âSurreal?â You asked, because you didnât know what else to say.
âTo be here on this beach. Itâs kind of amazing places like this exist.â
You turned to her. Her perfect skin glowed brighter than the white sand, the little mole on her nose perfectly placed. Like an artist placed it to perfect the composition.
âYeah, it is.â
âHey!â She exclaimed, standing up. âLetâs walk along the beach.â
âWhereâd all that energy come from?â
âCome on strangerâ she said grabbing your arms and pulling you to your feet. âLetâs go exploreâ
And suddenly the awkwardness was gone. You walked and talked, up until the beach thinned and sand became stone cliffs.
It was beautiful, she kept saying. But you hardly noticed because she was there too.
And suddenly the wind blew her hat off and she chased it. And you waved her off and caught the hat seconds before it blew into the ocean and you slipped it back onto her head, but not before sliding a torn off piece of your sketchbook inside, with your number of course.
And it was over in a blur. You were back to your resortâs portion of the beach.
âShit!â You yelled. âI was supposed to meet my cousins here.â
Yunjin turned to you with concern. âGo meet them! Why didnât you tell me?â
You thanked her and turned to leave beforeâ âWait! Youâre going to check your sweater, right?â She called.
You smiled back. âNah. Itâs Mexico, who needs a sweater. Hats though. Those are pretty useful.â You waved, and ran back to the resort.
--
The rest of the day wouldâve gone better with Yunjin. It wasnât badâ just less bright despite the blazing Sun.
By the time you made your way to the buffet for lunch, your family was too many drinks deep to pester you with questions.
You spent the rest of the day lounging by the many poolsâ cocktail in hand for most of the day, because vacation mode. A pretty chill day aside from meeting your cousin Annabelle. Your haircut wasnât that badâ not enough to âruin the wedding photosâ like she claimed it would.
But it was already a far cry from what you thought the trip would be; your cousins had shown you you truly missed your family, the comments from your family werenât oppressive, and of course, Yunjin was there, one resort away.
A couple things kept you up that night. Minhoâs snores pierced the night air. A shameâ your patio stayed open so the soft sound of waves could flood the room. The other was the text youâd been staring at for the past 5 minutes.
Hiya stranger :)
âMinho. Minho!â You whispered, only to be met with snores. Actually, maybe it was better to approach this yourself.
You had no idea what to say, how to respond without embarrassing yourself. But then you thought of her smile.
You werenât sure if it made it worse or better, but, thinking of her smile, there was no way you wouldnât respond.
Hi
The reply came quick, the little ding more soothing than the waves you could hear through Minhoâs snoring.
Meet tomorrow?
Mmm. Wedding rehearsal. Should be done just after lunch. Maybe after?
I can do that :)
--
The wedding rehearsal was just as you suspected; your cousin Annabelle in full on panic mode. For one, the bandâs clothes were too whiteâ she was the bride, she needed to stand outâ and for another, apparently it was supposed to rain Friday, the day of the wedding.
So now she was compensating by having you, Minho and Sakuraâ as well as the whole familyâ on your best behaviours during the rehearsal.
âWe weâre supposed to end this before lunch,â Minho complained. âItâsâ 2 oâclock,â Minho checked his phone, âI havenât eatenâ havenât drank in 6 hours!â
âStop it! Annabelle is your cousin. She used to watch all 3 of us on the weekends. Sheâd let us have sweets even though our momâs told her not to,â Sakura scolded as she flipped through table cards labeled with perfect calligraphy .
âA tyrant then and a tyrant nowâ Minho gestured to Annabelle and the bridegroom. The ladder following the former like a lost puppy as she barked orders at her soon to be wedding guests.
âShe wasnât a tyrant! Plus, itâs her wedding. Of course she wants it to be perfect! Every girl does!â Sakura fought back.
âShe does realize itâs only supposed to rain at like 7. Weâll be deep into the reception at that time. Plus, since when did you care about weddings?â Minho asked innocently.
âSince I was a little girl!â Sakura yelled, cheeks growing flushed, hands scattering table cards on the white tablecloth.
Minho had a truly confused look on his face. âWhat?â. An ignorant and protective brother, you guessed. You didnât understand, not that you were paying much attention anyway.
âWhat?â Sakura mocked, throwing him a pile of table cards. âIâm a woman too.â
âWoman?â Minho laughed. âYou snore like a dude. The whole house can hear it!â
âShut up! Organize those cards. And stop teasing Annabelle, she has a lot on her plate. Back me up here cousin.â
âHmm?â You replied, barely paying attention.
âHeâs not even helping us! Heâs been on his phone this whole time!â Minho yelled.
âStop deflecting. So you donât think your sweet sister is capable of getting married?â You replied simply.
âSo you are listening! Sakura! Get him!â He pointed at you.
Sakuraâs gaze pierced Minho to silence, before turning heel towards you and saying âWho are you texting anyway?â Before snatching your phone from your hand.
âHey give that back!â
But it was already too late. Sakura had already seen who you were textingâ with horror you watched her light up.
âYunjin?! Is this the girl from the plane! You got her number!?â Sakura exclaimed.
âGirl from the plane? Whoâs Yunjin?â Minho asked.
Welp. Now you had no choice to tell your cousins what happenedâ as well as get back to organizing cards, Annabelleâs glare at the three of you ensured that.
Sakuraâs eyes went wide as she peered at your texts. âLook at thisâ Sorry, rehearsal running late,â she read, âmeet me on the beach in an hour?â
âDude, youâre gonna ditch us? I thought we were gonna get drinks after. Is that where you were yesterday too? We were looking for you for an hour on the beach.â Minho lamented.
âLike you didnât ditch us last night,â you defended.
âTell us what happened!â Sakura pleaded.
And so you didâ starting from the plane to fill Minho in.
âAnd then you slipped it in her hat?â Minho asked incredulously. âDude, youâre in!â
âI donât know, it might not be like that.â
âYouâve been texting her all day!â Sakura said as she scrolled through your phone.
âThat doesnât mean anything. Now can we please finish these damn table cards.â
âSays the one on his phone the whole morning. Plus, you just want to finish fast so you can meet your girlfriendâ Sakura teased.
âSheâs not my girlfriend!â
With a ding from your phone you reached to grab it, but Sakura swatted your hand away. Her smile went from mischievous to one of feigned disappointment. âOh, sorry cousin. Looks like youâre stuck with us this evening,â she said, tossing you the phone.
Sorry! Me and my friends booked a catamaran. Weâre going snorkeling!
Your stomach did a weird thingâ and it wasnât all the alcohol youâd been drinking since you landed. Funny, your mind was totally fine. You had said it to her yourself, this trip would be the perfect opportunity to become closer with her friends. You were happy for her.
But your stomach panged knowing you wouldnât see her today. You were suddenly very aware that running into her on the beach was an impossibility that happened, that even sitting next to her on the plane was lucky chance. But Sundayâ the day the trip endedâ no amount of luck could change that. You only had this week. Your time with Yunjin was limited.
You plopped the cards you had been organizing down on the table. âTo be honest Sakura, Annabelle is acting a little crazy. If you act like this at your wedding, Iâm leaving. Also since when are you not allowed to drink at a wedding rehearsal!â
No worries. See you tomorrow then?
You texted before finishing up (admittedly slowly) organizing the table cards with an increasingly moody Sakura.
It was nearly dinner by the time Annabelle was satisfiedâ she dismissed the three of you last.
Minho disappeared right away, but rejoined as you and Sakura made your way to the buffetâ 3 pina coladas in hand of course.
A deep voice called the three of you overâ your uncle eating with your aunt Jess. âNephew! Come here!â He smiled. You sauntered over, pina colada hitting like a truck on an empty stomach. Mustâve been a Minho specialâ triple shot of spiced rum.
An expectant smile was on your Aunt Claireâs face. âSo!â Youâre uncle said.
âSo?â
âI talked to a friend from workâ their husband⌠heâs an engineer! Owns a firm and all!â
âOhâ thatâs greatâŚâ
âAnd they have an internship program! I talked to himâ he told me to ask for your transcript! But that it shouldnât matter anywayâ youâre basically a lock if you want in!â
Shit. Back to thinking of life. It wasnât that you didnât appreciate the offer for the internship; you just didnât know if you even wanted an internship. Didnât even know if you wanted to pursue engineering anymore. But it wasnât like you could tell him thatâ not when he was so excited.
âOhâ thatâs great!â You lied.
âIsnât it!â Your aunt Jess lit up. âA nice internship lined up, back home too!â
âYeah, it isâ
âWhy donât you call Sakura and Minho over, weâve been dying to hear more about how schoolâs been for you. Come eat with us.â
And so you sat with them for dinner, bombarded with questions about school and plans. It didnât help they were so enthusiasticâ so excited for you. And all you could do was sit there, lying about how good your grades were, about how excited and thankful you were for the opportunity.
âMom, heâs on vacation. Let him be,â Sakura finally said.
It didnât help that later that night, caused probably by the stress induced from your meal with your uncle, you checked your school email. You laid there in your bed, sounds of the shower Minho was taking ringing in the air.
Sitting there like a little gift was an email from one professor Hark; your least favourite professor:
Class,
Mistake on the syllabus. Your mid-term will be next week Monday. Not the week after.
Professor Hark
It read. Shit. You were supposed to have time. God knows you wouldnât have been able to take this tripâ or at least could have booked an early flight out had you known.
And now what? Youâd have to study on your vacation? You were indeed free from wedding activities tomorrow. Just, you thought youâd get to spend it withâ
Ding. A text from Yunjin, because of course it was.
Sorry! Snorkeling went late! Letâs hang out tomorrow.
What did you say now? Could you fit in a hangout with Yunjin and study sufficiently? Anger welled up inside you. It wasnât the usual stress in the pit of your stomach, but something deeper, something that welled up in your chest, and you knew you were going to make a mistake. But were you really going to blow off this huge mid term to spend time with a girl youâd only know for a week? Fuck it, you thought. Fuck it all to damn hell.
What are you doing right now?
Actually, nothing. I could slip away.
--
When you texted Yunjin, you didnât expect to be climbing those rock cliffs you saw at the end of the beach. But here you were, soft moonlight barely illuminating the climb.
âIt didnât look so tall from the beach!â Yunjin yelled beside you.
âYou want to go back down?â You called back.
âNo- weâre almost at the top. Plus, it looked cozy up there.â
You passed the lip, heaving yourself over. Atop the cliff sat the perfect little glade, a grassy clearing overlooking the vast ocean. You turned, reaching over to help Yunjin. She grabbed your handâ
How was it so soft? Even after climbing 30 meters of rocky cliffs? This was not the time to be nervous, grabbing onto a girl dangling over the edge of the cliff. What did it matter anyway though? As soon as youâd pull her up sheâd probably laugh at you, tell you how sweaty your hands were, how your heart had beat so fast she could feel it through your palms.
Your breathing still heavy, you heaved her up, pushing the thoughts away. She collapsed over the edge to safety with a look of satisfied adventure on her face. Seems she didnât notice how sweaty your palms were, that was good. âYouâre fine climbing cliffs but draw the line at planes?â You asked.
Yunjin sat up and walked to the clearing, taking a look around. The glade gave way to the cliffâs waterside edge. âItâs beautiful up here,â she said.
It really was. The moonâs light bounced off the water in shards, soft white peaks of the waves dotting the ocean. Yunjin took a seat, legs dangling off the side of the cliff.
âLook at the starsâ she said, amazed.
You sat next to her. âItâs like a whole different world out here. I canât even see the stars most nights back home.â
You both sat thereâ not exactly touching but close enough you could feel her every movement. A while passed in silence. It was comfortable; a perfect night.
âCan I tell you something weird? I mean only having known you for like, 4 days.â
â3 days. But go on.â
She sighed, full of relief, not whatever else a sigh could come with. âI thinkâ I think Iâm really glad I met you.â
Your heart did that thing againâ skipped a beat didnât quite encapsulate it. It shriveled and expanded at the same time. It bloomed in your chest like it was trying to escape it, trying to go be amongst the moon and the stars you were under.
But Yunjin gazed at you so deeply your heart was forced to stay with you, stay inside you so she could take it.
âI know, itâs weird.â
And suddenly you had to speak, had to tell her it wasnât weird despite the knot still in your chest. âItâs not weird.â
âYouâre just saying that,â she laughed and it was genuine and pretty and real. But it was also raw and scared.
You gave a short chuckle, one without much humour in it. âYou think Iâd be here on this cliff if I didnât want to see you?â
She gave you a smile that couldâve swept you off the cliff and into the ocean, and god would you let it happen. She laid down, and you followed. The grass felt niceâ you didnât get to feel it much, consequences of pursuing an engineering degree.
âHowâs the family?â She asked, and not just to break the silence.
âMy aunt called me to her room today because her water wasnât working. She thinks engineers are plumbers.â It earned a snort from Yunjin. âAnd my uncle lined me up an internship.â
âSo, sounds like itâs going great.â
âMhm. And what about you. How was snorkeling?â
âYou know,â she paused as if weighing out her words. âIt was really fun. And I think it was fun for them too.â
âCan I say something?â Yunjin gave an audible go ahead. âYou- you donât seem like the kind of girl that would have these kinds of problemsâ problems with, err, making friends. Youâre so friendly.â
âItâs weird,â she started, âI never really had trouble making friends. I think, even if you asked them, theyâd⌠consider me a friend?â
âBut it seems like theyâre excluding you.â
âMaybe, butâ I donât know, I thought about it. Iâve been so⌠scared on this trip, so self conscious about how they see me. But today on the catamaran, it was different. I was different. I just, put all of that away, everything I was scared of. Itâs like I wasnât trying to have fun, I just let myself have fun. And then they started⌠treating me different, treating me like I was one of them. I guess I just had to meet them halfway. Does that make sense?â
You sat up, hands leaning on the soft grass. âI think so,â you said. âWhat changed?â
âThatâs the thing, I have no idea. Maybe itâs justâ Iâve always had lots of friends, but Iâve never had a family, you know?â
âA family?â
âI mean of course I have a family, but a group of friends that could be your family, I donât know if Iâve ever had that. Have you?â
You thought first of your high school friends, the ones youâd been neglecting along with Minho and Sakura for the past years. You then thought of your university friends, the oneâs whoâd gone through hell- weâre still in hell with. You thought of late nights studying and even later nights eating out after studying. Of the little breaks you could take between term tests, not catching up on sleep but losing more of it to just⌠chill.
Suddenly, you felt a great appreciation for them, because not having them would make your already miserable life a thousand times more miserable. Was that what Yunjin was missing? But she was so⌠bright, even in the darkness of the night sky.
âI think I do.â
âAnd then I got this jobâ a really good one. And I didnât want it to be like before, to have all these friends but no family.â
âAnd thatâs what youâre trying to have now?â
âYeah.â
âAnd thatâs why youâve been so scared?â
âMaybe.â
âWhen did you start at this job?â You asked.
âTwo weeks agoâ
You sat up straighter. âTwo weeks ago?â You repeated.
âYeah? Why?â
She really was clueless. âYunjin. Youâve known them for two weeks and theyâve already invited you to a trip to Mexico! Even if it was as a replacement, they clearly want to be your friend too! How did you even get the time off anyway?â
Yunjin laid there in thought.
âIt is so like you to stress over not being able to fit in after only knowing someone for two weeks,â you laughed.
âHey, this is a real problem to me! And what do you mean âthis is so like you?â Iâve only known you for two daysâ
âThree days.â You said, lying back down. âAnd if itâs real to you, then itâs real to me,â you said with a plop, âif the snorkeling went well, I think youâre making progress,â you said, and you meant it. âBut, yeah. Itâs nice to have a family. But family has to meet half way. Theyâre already trying to be your friendâ itâs clear because youâre on this trip. You just have to let them. Even if itâs a little awkward at firstâ.
Yunjin gave a small laugh. âNo, maybe youâre right. Itâs just. I plan on being at this job for a while. And it would be nice to have people I could count on. Well, other than you.â
She said it so casually, like youâd always be there to listen to her problems, like you wouldnât be gone in less than a week.
âThanks for listening. Really,â she said.
âAnytime,â you said, knowing it was a lie, knowing there was only a small window in which she could ask you anything before youâd fly back and she too would just be someone youâd forget about in the mess that was your life.
âYou ever wonder how it would be if we met at a cafe?â She asked after a while.
âHmm?â
âOr a thrift store. Or a park.â
So, not here. âThat would be nice.â You meant it.
âYeah,â she said.
You both laid there under the stars, glittering like they were just for the two of you. Sometimes in silence, sometimes talking about nothing of substance. You didnât need there to be substance, the fact that you were both here on this hill was enough. No, maybe it wasnât enough. You had four more days left, two of which you were busy with wedding stuff, and the others youâd have to study for your damn mid-term.
The wedding, the mid-term, and Yunjin. If only you could focus on all three at once.
âHey Yunjin, do you want to come to my cousins we-,â you started, but as you sat up, you noticed Yunjin softly sleeping under the vast night sky. You stared at her for a second before laying back down.
And suddenly you were like the night waves, calm and soothed and drifting off to sleep. Maybe this wasnât enough. Maybe a week wasnât a long time. But a nightâ a night could be perfect. You wished you had your sketchbook. Youâd be able to draw the night, capture every minute detail, every perfect part of the night could be saved. But your drawing wouldnât be good enough to capture this moment. You wanted to soak up every detail, every second of the encounter, and you just werenât good enough.
You peered around you, taking it all in, trying to remember every detail. It was only a night, but you wanted it to last forever. If only youâd had forever, you thought, as the glittering stars and ocean waves carried you off to sleep.
---------------------
A/N:
Hi everyone!
So I know this isn't perfect by any means. The tags are fluff and angst, and it isn't particularly angsty or fluffy. I apologize for that. I just ask you all to trust my vision! This will be two parts, and I'm really excited for the next chapter, which I assure you will have more fluff and more angst.
Also this is my first non-smut fic, which I would like to assure everyone is not going to become standard. This series will not have smut (I thought about adding it but decided against it), but I do not have plans to stop writing smut!
I know a lot of you have been eager for the next chapter of Cafe Cuties, and it is in the works! I expect it will be out within the next 2 weeks.
Other than that, it always warms my heart to see people interact with my stories. My messages and asks are always open to you all!
Small picture.
Dating Seraphs
A story following a character who finds himself in a love triangle with Chaewon and Kazuha, and as well as the messiness that comes with Sakura being his ex. There is drama, suspense, heartbreak, and a lot of sex.
Disclaimer: This is SMUT for Chaewon, Kazuha, and Sakura.
Chapter 1: Fearless
Chapter 2: Patience
Chapter 3: Worth It
Chapter 4: Sauna
Chapter 5: Facades
Chapter 6: Antifragile
Chapter 7: Paris
Chapter 8: Changes
Chapter 9: Cherry Blossom
Chapter 10: Choices
Chapter 11: Undeserved
Chapter 12: Cold Nights
Stupid Bet
Male reader x Yunjin
Word count: 8k
Youâve been staring at the soundboard for so long, the blinking green lights are starting to look an awful lot like red.
The campus radio booth smells of dust and burnt coffee and unwashed clothes that accumulates anywhere students live for too long. Thereâs a tangle of cables in the corner that might actually be sentient. The ceiling tiles are stained in patches, as if the building tried to cry once and then gave up halfway through.
On the wall, someone taped a crooked paper heart over the station logo. The marker bled through, leaving a fuzzy red halo around the letters.
It is unfortunately, Valentineâs Day.
Youâre supposed to be testing the mics. Instead, youâre spinning a slider up and down with one finger, watching the levels bounce on the monitor like tiny, annoying heartbeats.
âYouâre glaring at the sliders again,â Yunjin says from behind you. âDonât tell me they rejected you on this very special day.â
You donât jump. You just adjust your shoulders like you werenât startled out of your skin.
âIâm practicing my stage presence,â you say, then spread your arms like wings. âThis is my stage presence.â
âRightâŚâ she says.
She squeezes into the space next to your chair without bothering with things like personal space or physics. Her citrus shampoo and cheap fabric softener brush against your nostrils; the cold from outside still clings to her coat.
Her hairâs braided back today, little flyaways escaping around her face, headphones pushed up like a lopsided crown. Her lipstick is slightly smeared at one corner where she probably wiped it with the back of her hand. Thereâs glitter on her cheekbone. You donât want to know where that came from.
She leans over the console, close enough that her braid brushes your arm. âLevels look fine,â she says. âUnless youâre trying to blow out the speakers and take the entire building with us. Which, honestly, respect.â
âI would never do that,â you say. âThe buildingâs innocent. Itâs all the Valentineâs Day propaganda inside it that needs to go.â
âYouâre so dramatic,â she says.
âYou invited me to host a twenty-four-hour Valentineâs Day marathon. What did you expect?â
Her mouth twists like she wants to smile but is trying not to. âI expected a bit more enthusiasm,â she says. âYou get to spend time with the prettiest girl on campus.â
âIâm quitting,â you say.
âYou canât,â she says. âYou signed the volunteer form.â
You glare at the clipboard. The clipboard glares back. Twenty-four hours of themed programming. Love songs, dedication readings, call-in lines open all night.
Youâd agreed because you needed credits, because you like the station, because Yunjin had looked at you with big eyes and said please.
Then youâd walked in and seen the paper hearts and remembered what day it is, and your stomach had folded in on itself.
âYou still havenât answered my question, by the way,â she says, twirling a pen between her fingers.
âWhat question?â you ask.
âWho hurt you,â she says, âand why do you hate Cupid?â
You spin in the chair just enough to face her. The headphones squeak against your shoulders.
âOkay. First of all, his whole vibe is suspicious. Creepy winged toddler with weapons? Red flag. Second of all, love is a capitalist scam. Thirdââ
She groans. âGod, weâre really doing this. Right before we go live.â
âYou asked.â
âI forgot you treat everything like philosophical debates,â she says. âNormal people just eat chocolate and watch a movie.â
âI can do that without the holiday,â you say.
She sighs, dramatic, and taps the clipboard against your arm. âFine,â she says. âLay it on me. Explain why love is fake, and Iâll explain why youâre wrong.â
You glance at the big window that looks into the hallway. The On Air sign above it is dark for now. In an hour, itâll be red.
âIn brief,â you say, âlove is a series of chemical reactions designed to trick you into pairing up long enough to theoretically raise offspring. Itâs inherently unstable and eventually breaks down into either resentment, indifference, or mutual tolerance. At best, you get long-term companionship with occasional affection, which you could also get from a very loyal dog.â
She opens her mouth. Closes it. âYou sound like a professor who got divorced twice,â she says.
You shrug. âI read.â
âYou got dumped once and turned it into a thesis,â she says.
âYouâre telling me you buy this?â you ask her. âThe hearts, the roses, the coupleâs posts, the speeches. You think thatâs⌠real?â
She looks at you as if youâve suggested the sky is green. âOf course I do,â she says. âLove is amazing and beautiful and, most of all, real.â
âYouâre so gullible,â you say.
âAnd youâre a baby,â she says, so casually you almost miss it.
You blink. âExcuse me?â
She turns a page on the clipboard like she didnât just lob that at your head. âYouâre scared,â she says. âTherefore, youâve decided love isnât real so you donât have to want it.â
You laugh, sharp. âWow. You diagnose me, you insult me, and you do it for free. I think you picked the wrong major, Yunjin.â
She spins the pen once, twice, and then points it at you, eyes suddenly very, very focused.
âLetâs make a bet,â she says.
âAbsolutely not.â
âYou donât know the terms yet.â
âYou said the word âbet,ââ you say. âAnd you have that look in your eyes. Thatâs enough.â
She ignores you. âYou donât believe in love,â she says. âI do. Weâre about to be trapped in a small, sticky, questionably ventilated booth together for twenty-four hours of Valentineâs programming.â
âYour sales pitch needs work.â
She leans in. Her eyes are brown and firm and irritatingly sincere.
âI bet you,â she says, âthat by the time this marathon is over, youâll be in love with me.â
You stare at her.
The clock ticks. The soundboard hums. Somewhere down the hall, a door slams.
You wait for her to back off, point a finger, reveal sheâs joking. Her mouth quirks up at one corner, but her eyes stay steady on yours.
âStop with the jokes,â you say, but hate how small your voice sounds.
Her fingers drum against the clipboard once, twice. âItâs not a joke.â
âYouâre out of your mind,â you say.
âPossibly,â she says. âBut come on. You said love is chemicals, right? Chemical reactions are predictable. So if you already know the answer, thereâs nothing to fear.â
âYou think you can hijack my entire emotional system in a day,â you say.
She smiles, teeth flashing. âI think I already have a pretty good hold on it. I just want to see you admit it.â
Youâre very aware of your own heartbeat. It feels like the levels on the monitor, bumping too high whenever you look at her and too low when you look away.
âAnd if you lose?â you ask.
She shrugs. âIf you donât love me by the end of the marathon, IâllâŚâ She thinks for a second. âIâll stop forcing you to do my show segments with me. No more on-air bits. You can go back to your quiet Wednesday night slot where you play moody indie music and pretend no oneâs listening. Iâll even lie so you can still get the credits.â
You perk up. âSeriously?â
âDead serious,â she says. âYou can be the mysterious voice in the dark again, free of my corrupting influence.â
Thatâs actually tempting. Your solo slot was nice. It was just you and the board and a playlist no one could judge in real time.
âAnd if I lose?â you ask.
âThen you admit love is real. And you take me on a date. A real one. No âitâs ironic,â no âitâs for science.â Just you and me and you trying very hard not to combust.â
You look at her and think about every stupid, small thing youâve already memorized without meaning to. The way she always eats the green M&Ms first. The way she hums under her breath when sheâs concentrating. The way she always saves the last slice of pizza and then pretends she doesnât want it so someone will offer it to her.
You shove those thoughts into a mental closet and lean back in your chair.
âYouâre awfully confident,â you say.
âObviously.â
âWhy you? If you actually believed in love, wouldnât you say, like, âYouâll fall in love with someone, somedayâ? Why specifically you?â
She blinks. Her cheeks pinken, just slightly. âJust because,â she says, and doesnât elaborate.
You know suddenly that if you say no, something fragile might crack between you. Stillâif you say yes, something else might.
The clock ticks on the wall.
âYouâre scared,â she says again, softly this time.
It bothers you she is right.
âFine,â you say. âYou want your stupid experiment? You got it.â
Her whole face lights up. âReally?â
You roll your eyes. âLetâs see you prove your little theory. Twenty-four hours. Knock yourself out.â
Her grin turns almost feral. âOh, youâre going to regret that so much. Or maybe youâre not.â
You already do.
She hops off the stool and slaps the On Air button with more flourish than necessary. The red sign over the window springs to life.
âBut if you do, itâs too late,â she says. âWelcome to the show, lover boy.â
You groan.
She laughs.
The mics go live.
â
Ten minutes into the first hour, you remember the other reason you agreed to this gig.
On air, Yunjin is a hurricane in human form. She leans into the mic, voice warm and bright as she welcomes listeners to the overnight Valentineâs special. She makes dumb jokes about Cupidâs underwear and about love as a duck.
You mostly push buttons and monitor levels, chiming in occasionally with deadpan commentary. Itâs your role. Youâve leaned into it before: the grumpy foil to her chaos.
But tonight, every time she calls you âmy very single co-hostâ or âdear love skeptic,â the words land a little differently.
Sheâs good at this. Too good. The call line blinks before the hourâs half over.
The first caller is a girl from third-year engineering who wants to dedicate a song to her boyfriend. She stumbles through the message, giggling, and Yunjin guides her gently, like sheâs coaxing a nervous animal out of hiding.
When they hang up, Yunjin mutes the channel and swivels toward you.
âSee?â she says. âEvidence.â
âJust hormones,â you say.
âEverything is hormones,â she says. âThatâs not the slam dunk you think it is.â
The second caller is a guy who rambles about his girlfriend for a full two minutes without letting either of you get a word in. Heâs so earnest you can practically hear the hearts floating around his head. You find yourself smiling in spite of yourself.
Yunjin catches it and raises her eyebrows.
âItâs cute,â you say defensively.
âI didnât say anything,â she says, but a smirk pulls at the corner of her lips.
By hour three, she takes control of the playlist. Every song is obnoxiously on theme. Every time you reach for the mouse to queue something with fewer hearts in the lyrics, she smacks your hand away.
âPart of the bet,â she says. âFull immersion. You canât fall in love if youâre listening to breakup songs.â
âI thought you liked breakup songs,â you say. âYou call them cathartic.â
âThatâs for me. You need to marinate.â
âIn your playlist?â
âIn your feelings.â
You groan into your hands.
Off air, in the three-minute pockets between songs and ads, the booth shrinks down to the two of you and the hum of machines.
At some point around eleven, she kicks off her shoes and tucks her feet up on the stool, socks mismatched. One has tiny acorns. The other says SLOW DOWN in all caps.
âYou wore a message on your sock just for me,â you say.
She glances at her ankle. âYou wish,â she says.
âVery subtle,â you say. âReal subliminal messaging.â
âYou need all the help you can get,â she says.
Itâs easy, this back-and-forth. It always has been. The difference now is the way your body keeps overreacting to tiny things. The way her laugh lands low in your stomach. The way you keep noticing the smudge of glitter on her cheek and wanting to wipe it away.
You tell yourself itâs just the sleep deprivation.
The hours blur.
You read dedications and answer dumb quiz questions and accidentally get into a ten-minute argument about whether pineapple belongs on pizza with a caller from the dorms. You scroll through memes on the station computer during ad breaks, showing her the worst ones just to hear her wheeze-laugh. She stretches whenever thereâs a long song, arms over her head, T-shirt riding up, a slip of bare skin flashing above her waistband.
You pretend very hard not to look.
Sometime around midnight, the building empties. The glass in the window goes dark. The station becomes its own little floating world.
Yunjin flips her headphones up so they rest on her head like a halo. She leans back, chair tipping dangerously, and sighs.
âWhat?â you ask.
She stares at the ceiling. âI just thought⌠if I was going to make you fall in love with me, being trapped in here is the best possible environment.â
You give her a look. âYou know how that sounds, right?â
She grins sideways. âYeah,â she says. âHot.â
You drag a hand down your face. âI liked you better when you were just manipulative on air.â
âYou like me,â she repeats.
âThatâs not what I said,â you say.
âItâs what I heard,â she says.
You mute her mic before she can say anything else dangerous and throw to a song.
â
At two in the morning, the calls slow down.
The people still awake are either high, heartbroken, or both. The confessions get sadder, messier. Someone cries on air. Someone else laughs too loudly for too long.
When thereâs nothing in the queue, you and Yunjin are left with the dead air countdown ticking in the corner of the screen and the kind of silence that makes you aware of your own breathing.
âTell me about her,â she says suddenly.
You look up. âWho?â
âYour ex,â she says, like itâs obvious.
You stare at the monitor. The ON AIR timer crawls down from thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.
âWeâre not doing this,â you say.
âYou keep talking about love like itâs a disease,â she says. âIâd like to hear about the cause.â
Three. Two. One.
You take a breath and flick the mic sliders up. The red light on the console snaps on.
âWelcome back to the overnight Valentineâs special,â Yunjin says, as if she wasnât just elbow-deep in your personal life. âWeâve heard from a lot of people already tonight about the love theyâre in. Or out of.â
âAnd some who probably shouldnât have given us their real names,â you add.
Yunjin leans toward her mic, eyes on you, and says, âBut I think itâs time we hear from our very own love-hater.â
You shoot her a warning look. She barrels on.
âSo,â she says, âtell me, dear co-host, where did love go wrong?â
You should cut her off. You should cut your mic, throw another song on, pretend the question never reached you. But two words hang at the back of your throat, clawing and raking and begging to come out.
Your hand does not move toward the mouse.
âHigh school,â you say. âObviously.â
She smiles, slow. âObviously,â she repeats. âWalk us through it.â
You stare at the screen above her head. The station logo glows back, smug.
âShe was⌠fine,â you say. âWe met in debate club. Which should have been a warning sign.â
âThereâs your first mistake.â
You tell the story in broad strokes. The matching schedules, the way it had felt easy at first, the late nights studying, the first time you kissed in the back stairwell. How every time your lips touched, a swarm of butterflies fluttered in your stomach.
You keep your voice light. You know how to perform into a mic. You sand the edges off.
You donât say the part where she told you she loved you in your momâs car with her hand on your knee and then cheated on you three weeks later because âit didnât feel real enough.â
You donât say the part where your parents used the breakup as proof that teenage love is meaningless, a rehearsal for the pain youâre supposed to get used to.
You say, âIt ended.â
Yunjin doesnât push. She doesnât fill the air. She lets the silence sit for a beat, just long enough for you to feel it, before she says, âIâm sorry, but she sounds like a bitch.â
You huff a laugh. âThatâs the word,â you say.
âIf the shoe fits,â she says.
âYou have a whole closet of shoes that donât fit. You wear them anyway.â
âYouâre romanticizing my poor choices again.â
You glance at the time counter. The segmentâs almost over. You clear your throat.
âWhat about you?â you ask. âSince weâre sharing.â
She lifts her shoulders. âIâve been in love a lot.â
âShocking.â
âBut not like that,â she says. âIâve had crushes. Infatuations. Situationships. People I liked because they liked me. People I liked because they were broken and I wanted to fix them.â
The corners of your mouth twitch.
âAndâŚ?â you prompt.
She looks at you, then down at the console. Her fingers trace the edge of a fader.
âThereâs only one person Iâve stayed in love with,â she says. âSo far.â
You know you shouldnât ask. You know you definitely shouldnât do it on air.
âDo I know them?â you ask.
She smiles without teeth. âYouâre an idiot,â she says, and cuts to a song.
The track starts. The mics go dead. The silence on your headphones is sudden, like popping out of a pool.
â
Time does something weird around four in the morning.
You slide past tired into something loopy and raw. Your body feels hollowed out and vibrating. The booth becomes your whole universe. The only light is from the monitors and the tiny lamp someone stuck in the corner with a red scarf thrown over it, turning everything a dim maroon.
Youâre on a break between segments, a slow jazz cover swaying through your headphones, when Yunjin kicks your ankle.
âHey,â she says. âWake up.â
âI am up,â you say. You are very much not. You are slumped in the chair like someone took out your bones and declined to put them back.
âUp,â she repeats, standing. âDance break.â
You look at her. âNo.â
âYes.â
âI refuse.â
She reaches for your wrists. You yank them back, but sheâs faster when youâre tired. Her fingers wrap around yours, warm and sure.
âCome on,â she says. âWe have three minutes before the song ends. Science says movement keeps us awake.â
âNo science says I have to dance with you,â you say, but your body is already tipping forward.
She pulls you to your feet and into the sliver of space between the chairs and the wall. The cable to your headphones tugs as you stand. You push them down around your neck.
The music is slow and lazy, horns curling through the air like cigarette smoke. The bass thumps faintly under your feet.
She sways. You donât. Not at first.
âJust follow my lead,â she says.
âI donât dance,â you say.
âYou do now.â
She puts your hands on her waist. Her palms land on your shoulders. Her fingers curl into the worn cotton of your hoodie.
Your heart rockets into your throat.
She moves side to side, a gentle shift of weight. Youâre too close to see all of her at once. Just a mouth. A cheek. Eyes that keep flicking to your lips and away again.
You move with her because you donât know what else to do.
âThis is dumb,â you say. âWeâre not even on video.â
âSo?â she says. âYou can do things without an audience, you know.â
âYou constantly ask the audience to rate us.â
âYeah. But this oneâs just for you.â
You swallow. Your hands are still on her waist. You can feel heat through the fabric. The curve of her hip under your thumbs is a map youâve never let yourself read.
âWhy me?â you ask.
She frowns. âWhat?â
âYou said⌠thereâs only one person you stayed in love with,â you say. âIf itâs me⌠why?â
She exhales. You feel it against your neck.
âYouâre really fishing for compliments at four in the morning,â she says.
âIâm serious.â
She pulls back just enough to look at you. Her eyes are dark and clear.
âWell⌠if, and I only mean if, that person were you, itâs becauseâŚâ she paused for a moment. âYou try really hard not to care. But you do anyway.â
You open your mouth. Nothing comes out.
âYou pretend the world is something you can outsmart,â she continues. âLike if you just know enough, if you rationalize enough, nothing can surprise you. Nothing can hurt you. But then you⌠stay late to fix the board for the morning shift. And you remember everyoneâs favorite segments. And you get stupidly angry when people treat their partners badly on air, even though you say love is stupid.â
âI listen to the show,â you say. Your throat feels tight. âItâs my job.â
âYou listen period,â she says. âNot just on the show.â
Her fingers slide up from your shoulders, skim the back of your neck, tangle in your hair.
âYouâre gentle when it matters,â she says. âAnd mean in the ways that count less. And sometimes, when you think no oneâs listening, you talk about things like they can still be beautiful. Even after everything.â
You close your eyes. You canât hold that look and keep your balance at the same time.
âThat,â she says quietly, âis why.â
The song ends.
Dead air looms. You jolt back to the console like a puppet whose strings got yanked, hands flying to the mouse, to the sliders. You slam the next track on, throw your mic live, and say something about keeping the love songs coming in a voice that doesnât sound like yours.
Yunjin sits, breathless and flushed, and laughs silently into her fist.
â
By dawn, the windows are pale rectangles. Snow flurries against the glass, soft and relentless. The campus outside looks like a stage set someone forgot to strike.
Youâve been awake for⌠a long time. Your sense of linear time is gone. All you have is the green LED clock on the wall and the schedule on the clipboard, marching toward the end of the marathon.
You have also been in love with Yunjin for approximately⌠longer than youâre willing to admit.
The realization comes not as a single lightning strike but as a series of insults you canât ignore anymore.
The way your chest hurt when she talked about being in love with someone and didnât name them.
The way you watched every hand that touched her at parties and wanted to break their fingers.
But she asked for honesty on a time limit, and thereâs still one segment left.
The last hour is âLove Letters.â Prewritten, anonymous, some sent in weeks ago, some from tonight. A neat bow to tie the marathon.
You queue up a song. Three minutes. It feels like both a lot and not enough.
Yunjin is watching you. Sheâs been doing that more as the night has gone on, like sheâs waiting for something.
You spin in your chair to face her fully.
âHey,â you say.
âHey,â she echoes. Her voice is hoarse from talking all night. She sounds like her shell started to crack.
âOff the record,â you say.
She raises an eyebrow. âUh-oh.â
âWhy did you start the bet? Really.â
âI told you. I wanted to prove to you love exists. Then you might finally find a girlfriendâ
âBullshit,â you say, too tired to soften it.
She blinks.
âThe bet is just too weird,â you say. âYou could've picked a random girl at a bar. A stranger. Not you. Not a date with me as the reward. Not twenty-four hours of live radio where people can hear you bomb.â
âYou think Iâm afraid of bombing?â she asks.
âThatâs not the point.â
âWhat is the point, then?â
âThe point,â you say, and your voice shakes, âis that this isââ You gesture at the cramped booth, the mics, her. ââa really big risk for you if I donât⌠if I canâtâŚâ
You trail off. The song counter is at forty-five seconds.
âIf you lose the bet and I quit the radio⌠youââ Your palm claps your chest, clamps down on it, and seizes your thumping heart between shaky fingers. ââwe would notâŚâ
She looks down at her hands.
âI needed a deadline,â she says. âI kept⌠waiting. For you to get there on your own. To notice. To do something. To stop making those jokes about love being fake.â
Your stomach lurches.
âI thought if I gave us a clock,â she continues, âmaybe youâd decide faster. Maybe Iâd know if I should hold on or let go. I canât keep doing the⌠loves me, loves me not.â
Her voice thins on the last word.
You want to reach for her but you donât. Your hand hovers in the space between.
âWhat if I end up hating you for it?â you ask. âFor pushing.â
She smiles. âI figured if you hated me, that was an answer too,â she says.
The song ends. The final chord hangs in your headphones.
You hit the stinger, toss to the last segment, and talk on autopilot, the words of the script spilling out of your mouth without going through your brain.
Welcome back. Last hour. Love letters. All that.
You queue the first email and read it, your eyes tracking the words while your mind is three feet to the left, hovering over the spot where her knee bumps yours under the console.
The letters are earnest and messy and stupid. Someone writes to a barista theyâve never spoken to. Someone confesses to a crush on their TA. Someone thanks their best friend for staying when everyone else left.
Then you reach the last letter in the folder. It has no subject line.
You click it open.
Your own name stares back from the greeting.
You go very, very still.
âEverything okay?â Yunjin asks softly, off mic.
You donât answer. You read.
âHey you,â the email says.
You swallow.
You donât mean to read it out loud. You donât even realize your mic is still live until you hear your own voice in your headphones, smaller and rougher than it sounds in your head.
ââŚyouâre probably frowning at this,â you read. âYou frown at everything. The soundboard, your laptop, the concept of joyââ
You stop. Your eyes widen. You glance at Yunjin.
Her mouth is parted. Her fingers are tight around her pen.
You flip the mic off with a shaking hand. The ON AIR light dies.
âDid you write this?â you ask.
She doesnât answer. Her cheeks are bright pink. Her eyes are wide open.
âYunjin,â you say.
âItâs called commitment to the bit,â she says weakly.
You look back at the screen.
ââŚbut sometimes you laugh so hard you fall off the chair,â the email says. âAnd sometimes you look at me like youâre seeing something you donât think you deserve, and I wish I could make you feel what I feel for just one second so youâd understand how wrong you are.â
You exhale, shaky.
âI wanted to,â she says, then shuts her mouth like sheâs said too much.
You scroll.
âI donât know when it started,â the letter says. âMaybe it was when I called you to pick me up from the bar and you actually came. Maybe it was the time you stayed with me at the station until four a.m. because I messed up the prerecording and didnât want to go home. Maybe it was always, a little bit.â
Your chest is not a chest. Itâs a fist closing around itself.
âI do know this,â the letter says. âI believe in love because of you, not in spite of you. Iâve seen every worst part of you and my heart still does the stupid thing when you walk in the door.â
You laugh, helpless and breathless.
âYou told me once love is a scam,â the email goes on. âIf thatâs true, Iâve already been duped. I can just hope for compensation.â
The cursor blinks at the end of the paragraph.
Itâs not signed. It doesnât have to be.
âYouâre such a dumbass,â you say, voice breaking on the last word.
Yunjin flinches. âYou can delete it,â she says quietly. âWe donât have to read it. Itâs⌠fine. Iâll pretend I never sent it.â
You look at her. Really look.
She looks small, suddenly. Not physicallyâshe still takes up more space than anyone in a roomâbut her shoulders are hunched, her hands tucked into the sleeves of her hoodie, her eyes shiny.
You realize youâre not scared anymore. Even though your heart is beating a hundred million times a second, its not because youâre scared. She was right. Is right.
âThatâs not what I meant,â you say. You take a breath that hurts going in. âPut your headphones on.â
Her brows knit. âWhy?â
âPlease,â you say.
She slides them on, hesitant.
You flick your mic back on, your voice going out into the quiet morning city, to whoeverâs still awake and listening.
âOkay,â you say. âWeâve heard a lot of letters tonight from people trying to be brave.â
Your heart drums against your ribs. Yunjinâs gaze is locked on you.
âI thought I should⌠return the favor,â you say.
She presses a hand over her mouth.
âThis oneâs not anonymous,â you say. âBut I guess thatâs the point.â
You talk.
You donât read anything. You donât have a script. You just⌠talk.
You say you thought love was dangerous because you watched it used as a weapon. You say you built a whole personality out of not needing it. You say you thought you were safe that way.
You say you were wrong.
How the first time she dragged you on air, you wanted to murder her and thank her in the same breath. How she makes the station feel like more than a hobby. How she makes every room louder and softer at the same time.
You finally say IT.
âIâm in love with you,â you say, into the mic, into the booth, into her headphones. âYunjin.â
The confession sits in the air, warm and irreversible.
You mute your mic.
The world shrinks to the space between your chairs.
Her eyes are wet. Thereâs a tear track on one cheek, shiny in the dim light.
âYouâŚâ she starts, then stops. Her voice cracks. She pulls her headphones off like theyâre heavy.
âYou said it on air,â she says, half laugh, half sob.
âYou wrote me a love letter on air.â
âI thought youâd pretend you never read it. Or roast me for it. Or⌠something.â
âI thought about it. For, like, two seconds.â
She exhales, a shaky thing that almost turns into a laugh.
âDo you mean it?â she asks. âOr is this you being⌠swept up in the bit?â
You hate that she even has to ask.
You push your chair back. The wheels squeak. You stand, knees popping, and step into her space.
She tips her head back to look at you. You can see every mole, every fleck of glitter, every place the night has worn at her.
âYou win,â you say. âOkay? You were right. Love is real. Iâm in love. With you.â
Her lips part. âSay it again,â she whispers.
âI love you,â you say.
Her hands reach for you at the same time yours reach for her. Thereâs an awkward bump of elbows and a tangle of headphone cables, but then your fingers find her jaw and her palms land on your shoulders and youâre both laughing, breathless, right before your mouth hits hers.
The kiss lands slightly off-center. It doesnât matter.
Her lips are dry and then not. She makes a small, startled noise that you feel more than hear. Her fingers curl into the fabric at the back of your neck.
Your brain, which has been screaming for hours, goes very, very quiet.
You pull back just enough to breathe.
âOff air,â she gasps. âOffââ
You throw a hand blindly toward the console and slam every fader down. The lights on the board dip. The mic signs go dark.
The station goes silent.
You kiss her again.
This time, you aim better.
She tastes like the energy drinks you both chugged at three and the mint gum she chewed to cover it. Her nose bumps yours. Her hands are everywhere, in your hair, on your back, tugging you closer.
You brace one hand on the console to keep from knocking both of you over. The plastic digs into your palm. Youâd bruise your entire body and the soundboard if it meant she kept kissing you like that.
She laughs against your mouth. âHi,â she whispers.
âHi,â you whisper back.
âWeâre still technically on shift,â she says.
âIâm on a break.â
Her smile curves against your lower lip. âYouâre such a bad employee.â
You kiss until your knees feel like theyâre going to give out, until your fingers go numb from gripping the edge of the console, until the clock over the window ticks all the way to the end of the marathon.
Itâs the easiest thing in the world to fall into.
She gasps into your mouth.
God, that sound.
Her fingers tug at the hem of your hoodie, grabbing your shirt along with it. You help her peel them off, and her hands are everywhereâchest, shoulders, back; tracing every line as if making sure you are real.
âYunjin,â you grit out, and youâre holding her, hands on those perfect cheeks, caressing them like she may slip through your fingers if you donât. âI wantâno, I need you. Now.â
She blinks, surprised.
You wait.
Then she smirks. âSo fucking take me.â
Her words are a burning match, and youâre the damn firewood.
You push her back against the wall. Her head almost bumping into it were it not for your hand in the back of her hair. You look her over as if she is a gourmet meal, leaning across to get a taste.
Your mouth is on her throat, slow and greedy. Her hands thread into your hair, fingers curling tight when you find the soft spot under her jaw.
âJesus,â she breathes.
As you pull her shirt up and toss it somewhere behind, you move lower. Kiss the top of her chest. Trace the edge of her bra with your teeth.
She arches. âYou gonna tease me all night?â
âThinking about it,â you say, dragging a hand down her side.
She huffs a laugh. âThen Iâll start without you,â she says. Her fingers move to her waistband.
You stop her. âLet me.â
Yunjin goes still. Watching. Waiting. Then her hands drop to her sides.
You hook your fingers under the band of her jeans and pull. Slow. So fucking slow.
She lifts her hips to help you, and when the jeans clear her thighs, you just stare. No rush. No comment. Just her bare legs, panties black and damp and perfectly in place.
You dip, then kiss the inside of her thigh.
She twitches.
You kiss higher.
She makes a sound, high and rough, like her body wonât hold on much longer if you continue.
Your hands slide up her legs. Her stomach. Her ribs. You get back up and catch her mouth while your fingers finally slide between her legs, slow and gentle, through the heat and the wetness that has been building ever since the bet started.
Her breath hitches. Her hips roll.
âYou like that?â
âI will if you keep going.â
You do. One finger, then two. Deep, slow. Your thumb brushes her just right. She falls apart in front of you, little gasps punched out of her with every stroke. Her hands fist at her sides, thighs clenched and eyes rolled back just a little.
âWhat theâfuckââ she wails between gasps, her tongue dangling beyond her full red lips.
When she comes, itâs a quiet explosion. Her dirty nectar floods your hand as her breathless cries rub into your skin. Her proud face is now wrecked and vulgar.
You pull your hand away and kiss her again, mouth messy with want.
Deep, slow, lingering want. Every pass of her mouth feels like sheâs tasting a secret sheâs wanted for too long. Her tongue slides against yours, confident without being cocky, and when she makes that low, surprised sound into your mouth, it hits straight through your spine.
She breaks away only because she has to breathe. You feel her chest press into you as she exhales against your jaw, then she presses her lips there, then lower, like she canât stand not having you in her mouth.
Her knees hit the floor, eyes tilted up, hair messier than itâs ever been, breathing you in like youâre something addictive sheâs finally allowed to use.
Her fingers tug your waistband open, careful and steady. She frees you, and her breath stuttersâjust slightlyâbut she doesnât make a joke, doesnât throw out a line.
She just whispers, âYeah.â
And then her mouth is on you.
Not tentative this time. Decisive. She takes you in slow, lips sealing tight, heat wrapping around you so suddenly that your hand shoots into her hair on instinct.
She moans.
God, she moans around you like you just answered something inside her. The vibration punches sounds out of your throat. Your hips jerk, barely, and she keeps you still with her hand on your hip like she knew it would happen.
She sets a perfect rhythm, unhurried but merciless. Her tongue drags along the underside, slow and claiming. She sinks deeper, takes more of you, then sucks on the way back like she means to ruin you.
You are gone.
âYunjinâfuckââ Your voice cracks and she actually smiles with you in her mouth, like thatâs exactly what she wanted to hear.
Her hand strokes the rest of you she canât take, matching the pace of her mouth. Every breath you drag in feels too thin. Every sound she makes wrecks you worse. She looks up at you through her lashesâeyes heavy and bright and unbelievably presentâand it feels obscene how good she looks like this.
You feel it building, sudden and sharp and impossible to stopâ
And then she pulls back. Just enough to edge you off the cliff without letting you fall.
Her mouth eases off with a slick, obscene drag, leaving the head flushed and throbbing, her hand still wrapped firm around the base. You groan, broken, chasing her mouth on instinct, but she tightens her grip. Halts you. Holds you in place like she knows exactly what youâre about to do.
âNot so fast,â she murmurs, voice rough from where her throat took you. Her lips are swollen, slick with spit, a smear of her lipstick half-faded but still sinful on the edge of her mouth. âIâm not done yet.â
You try to speak, to respond, but all that escapes you is a ragged noise.
She kisses your hipbone like an apology. Or maybe a promise. Her mouth drags lower, tongue teasing along the base, slow and intentional, lips skimming your skin like sheâs studying it. Every movement is calculatedâcontrolled. She knows exactly what sheâs doing. How close you are. How easy it would be to tip you over.
But she doesnât. Not yet.
Instead, she wraps her lips back around youâjust the tip this timeâand hums. The sound shoots straight through your stomach. Her tongue swirls once, then again, every motion steady and eager, like she's tasting ice cream on a stick.
She sinks down, slowly. Her hand strokes what her mouth canât take, syncing together in a rhythm that's made to torture. Heat coils low in your spine.
You glance down, and the sight nearly finishes you anyway.
Her.
On her knees.
Mouth full of you. Cheeks hollowing. Hair wild around her face, braid half undone. That look in her eyes: focused, intense, locked on yours. Like sheâs doing this not for effect, not to be good, but because you make her want to. Because the taste of you is something she wants.
Every time you twitch, her mouth flexes, adjusting. Every sound you make, she follows, like itâs feedback she craves.
âYunjinâif you keepââ
She moans. Vibrating around you like an answer.
Your fingers fist tight in her hair. Your thighs shake. You're right there.
She feels it. You know she does.
And againâagainâshe pulls back. Just enough to leave you aching. Her tongue slides off the head in a slow, wet drag, and she kisses the tip so softly you nearly curse.
You canât breathe.
âNot yet,â she whispers, thumb stroking the base, gaze never leaving yours. âYou donât get to finish before I get to wreck you.â
You donât know how long you can take this.
Sheâs still kneeling, still got your cock wrapped in her hand like itâs hers to keep, and at this point, maybe it is. Your head thumps back against the wall, jaw clenched tight, trying not to embarrass yourself, but she sees itâsees all of it.
And she smiles.
Not smug. Not mean.
Just pleased. Like sheâs watching the result of a long experiment finally bear fruit.
She strokes you slow, firm, her grip slick from her mouth. Just enough to keep you from slipping back too far. Her other hand skims up your thigh, fingers brushing so lightly theyâre practically a threat.
"You're shaking," she says, not quite teasing, but close.
You are.
âDo you want to come?â she asks, voice soft, lips parted just enough that you can still see the sheen of spit on them. âLike this? In my mouth?â
You choke on a breath. Nod.
âToo bad.â
Then she leans in again.
This time she kisses everywhere but where you need her. Along your hip. Your stomach. She licks a slow stripe just below the base, then mouths at the skin beside you, leaving a faint markâterritorial.
You mutter a curse. She grins into your skin.
âRelax,â she murmurs. âIâll let you come eventually.â
Her mouth returns to the head, tongue flicking, lips parting. She sucks, gentle and shallow, working only the tip with devastating rigor. Each pass is maddening. Sheâs not trying to take you deep right now. Sheâs teasing every nerve you have raw.
You try to thrust, just onceâinstinctive, helplessâbut she flattens her hand against your stomach.
âNo,â she says, firm.
That voice. That fucking voice.
Her mouth slips lower again, this time a little deeper, and your whole body tenses. She moans, and it makes you twitch so hard she actually laughs around you.
Youâre panting now. Gone. Mindless. All you can do is feel; her mouth, her tongue, her pace.
You feel it surge again, hotter, faster, sharper.
You manage to gasp out, âIâmâYunjin, Iâmââ
And she pulls off just in time.
You nearly collapse.
She leans back on her heels, hands on your thighs, and watches you burn. Your cock throbs in the cool air, spit-slick and flushed, twitching uselessly against your stomach. Her mouth is red, wet, wrecked. Her eyes are so fucking dark.
âYou look so good like this,â she says softly.
You swallow hard. Your knees are barely holding.
âThen finish it,â you say, voice like gravel.
She rises slowly, body brushing yours as she stands. Her hands slide up your chest, slow and greedy.
âOh, I will,â she whispers against your lips. âBut not with just my mouth.â
She kisses you again: wet, deep, messy. And then sheâs walking you backward. To the couch. To the end of your control.
The backs of your knees hit the couch, and she pushes, lightly, but you go down hard like your legs never belonged to you in the first place. You land half-sitting, breath ragged, hands braced behind you.
Yunjin stands over you for a second, watching. Savoring.
Then she straddles your lap.
Her thighs slide against yours, skin hot and bare. Her panties are still on, black and soaked through, clinging to her like a secret sheâs not ready to give up just yet. But she grinds down anyway, slow and deliberate, right against you. The slick heat of her makes your head fall back instantly.
She leans in, mouth brushing your ear.
âFeel what you did to me?â she whispers. âYou think I got like this by accident?â
Your hands go to her hips without thinking, thumbs dragging along the curve of her waist like you need something to hold on to.
Her lips find your neck, open and wet, tongue tracing every inch of skin she couldnât reach when you were standing. She bites, soft and then not. You flinch, gasp, grip her tighter.
âYouâre so close,â she says, teeth grazing your throat. âI can feel it. I can feel you holding on.â
Her hips roll once. Then again.
You nearly buck beneath her. Sheâs not moving fast. The thin fabric between you is soaked, sliding against your cock every time she grinds down, and itâs torture. Heat builds again, sharper, tighter. You're already soaked from her mouth, already shaking from the way she wonât let you go over.
âYou want to fuck me,â she says, straight into your ear. Not a question.
You nod. Desperate. âYes. Fuckââ
She kisses you again. Hot and open and unforgiving. Her hand finds you between your bodies, wraps around you again, drags the tip through her slick heat, through the soaked fabric of her underwear.
You make a sound youâve never made before.
She presses her forehead to yours, breathing hard.
âYouâre not going to come,â she whispers. âNot until Iâm on top of you. Not until youâre so deep inside me you forget your own name.â
You shudder, nearly break.
And still, she doesnât move.
She stays there. Grinding slow. Touching you just enough to light the fuse again, just enough to bring you back to the edge. Her breath on your mouth. Her nails in your shoulders. Her body against yours like the forbidden apple you so desperately want to take a bite of.
Thenâfinallyâshe sits back, grabs the waistband of her soaked panties, and peels them down.
They stick to her for a second before sliding free. She tosses them somewhere behind her without looking. Then she grips your cock again, guides it to where sheâs dripping.
You lock eyes.
You can barely breathe.
âNow,â she says. âYou can come inside me.â
Then she sinks down with a sound that shatters whatever was left of your self-control.
Itâs not loud, itâs deep, from somewhere in her chest. A gasp, broken in half by a moan, her body folding forward as you stretch her open inch by inch. You grip her hips, trying not to thrust up into her, trying to hold still while she takes you.
She feels like fire and silk and home all at once.
Your head drops back with a curse. "Holyâ"
"I know," she whispers, almost stunned.
She settles fully with a tremble, thighs shaking around yours. For a moment, she just stays there, seated flush against your hips, her breath ghosting over your cheek, her hands on your shoulders like sheâs grounding herself.
Then her fingers find yours.
She laces them together.
Your eyes snap open.
Sheâs watching youâface flushed, lips parted, hair wild, but her gaze is steady. Intimate. Like this is the part that matters.
You squeeze her hand without thinking. She squeezes back.
Then she moves.
It starts slow, grinding down, rocking her hips in careful, devastating rhythm. Sheâs so fucking wet, every movement a slick slide of heat around you. Every roll of her hips draws another breathless groan from your throat, another wrecked sound from hers.
She leans in closer. Chest to chest. Your hands still locked together. You swear you can feel her heartbeat through her palm.
âGod,â she pants, forehead pressing to yours, âyou feelâso fuckingâgoodââ
You groan, fingers tightening around hers. âYunjinâpleaseââ
âPlease what?â she whispers, dragging her hips back, then snapping them forward again just right. You cry out. She smiles. âYou want to come?â
You nod.
She lifts up slightly, angle shiftingâand drops back down, hard.
Your vision blacks out for a second.
Then she starts to ride you in earnest.
No games now. No teasing. Just rhythm and heat and need. She uses your hands as leverage, fingers still interlocked, slamming her hips down harder, deeper, again and again, until every part of you is hers.
Sheâs close. You can feel it in the way her thighs start to tremble again, the way her rhythm gets messy, desperate.
âCome with me,â she gasps, mouth brushing yours. âPleaseâpleaseâI want you toââ
You barely hold on one more second.
Then youâre gone; hips thrusting up into her one last time as you bury yourself deep and give in. She follows a heartbeat later, pulsing around you with a gasp so raw it almost sounds like a scream.
She collapses against your chest, still shaking, still holding your hand.
Your other arm wraps around her. You bury your face in her hair, breath catching, body wrecked in the best possible way.
Her fingers tighten in yours again.
âFuck,â you whisper into her skin.
She laughs. Weak, hoarse, beautiful.
âYou owe me a date,â she murmurs.
You groan. âStill on about that stupid bet?â
âThat âstupidâ bet is the reason weâre here.â
You donât even try to argue.
You just kiss her forehead, still holding her hand like youâll never let go.

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Masterlist
I almost exclusively write smut. Everything below is 18+
My Latest Project:
CUM2A (Chaewon)
Treatment (Minju + Chaewon + Karina)
Clients (Winter + Ningning)
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Short Stories:
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Pregame x4 (Kazuha + Sakura + Yunjin + Chaewon)
We Are Aespo (Karina + Winter)
Hot Couture (Momo + Sana + Mina)
Boxes (Jo Yuri)
Debauchery: Part 1 (Mina + Sakura)
Debauchery: Part 2 (Mina + Sakura)
Debuachery: Part 3 (Mina + Sakura)
Jamboree (Wonyoung)
Photographer: Part 1 (IU)
Photographer: Part 2 (IU)
Photographer: Part 3 (IU)
Photographed (IU)
KAMPFyre: Part 1 - Vocals (Winter)
KAMPFyre: Part 2 - Convinced (Winter + Karina)
KAMPFyre: Part 3 - Future (Karina)
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The Roommates Universe:
(A collection of stories that follow the same OC through university, loosely linked together but able to be read as independent stories)
The list is in the order in which I wrote them (first to last), and the numbers correspond to the chronological order of the overall story.
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(4) Thirsty (Eunbi)
(1) Hot-N-Fun (Kazuha)
(2) Hotter-N-Funner (Kazuha)
(3) Chairs (Yuna)
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Long Series Format:
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Dating Seraphs (LE SSERAFIM)
TPM Book 1 is on AFF and Wattpad under my old username (OkayLikesMomo)
Twice's Private Manager Book 2 (Twice)
Twice's Private Manager Book 3 (Twice)
Exchange (Blackpink)
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Also, anyone is welcome to join my notification discord server. I use it to post when I update a story.
Check out the Okay's Notification Server community on Discord - hang out with 234 other members and enjoy free voice and text chat.
Off The Record
An Yujin x Male Reader
A/N: I've lost all of the images I've used for the book for this on wattpad (including the cover) so uh guess words will have to do for now.
Also, I have not edited the older chapters and I made them 2 years ago so sorry if they have any grammar mistakes I didn't see.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy!
ŕź Ë ď˝Ąâ đź â・ Ë ŕź Ë ď˝Ąâ đź â・ Ë ŕź Ë ď˝Ąâ đź â・ Ë ŕź
Synopsis:
Suddenly finding herself in a dilemma that could define the future of her career, An Yujin is forced back into her hometown of Gyeokpo-ri. After not returning to the town for years, she now has to rebuild all of her bridges towards the town and even someone who hated her entirely.
From the bright flashes of lights in the city to her humble abode in the small fishing town, where else could she find herself in when she goesâŚ
Off The Record?
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11





