lumberrobot

you’ve been in the library for three hours, but you’ve only read, like, maybe four pages. and by read, you mean your eyes have been skating across the words while your brain replays danielle’s voice on loop.

you don’t even have feelings. you’re like a robot. who the fuck dates a robot?

a month later, it still stings like she said it yesterday. maybe you are robotic—organized, efficient, put together. maybe you do come off cold sometimes. but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel. if anything, you feel too much.

you drag your highlighter across a sentence you definitely didn’t process and sigh.

that’s when you hear it.

“i fucking told you, lara, i panicked!” a voice echoes through the quiet study floor.

heads turn. yours too, unfortunately.

and there she is—megan skiendiel, bright as a highlighter with pink streaks cutting through her black hair, storming in like she owns the place. lara raj is right beside her, grinning like she’s here for the carnage, and sophia laforteza trails behind them with her giant purse and the patience of a saint.

“what the hell did you even say this time?” lara snorts, tossing her burgundy hair like she’s on a runway.

megan slams her bag onto the nearest table. “i told eunchae… i liked her fucking elbows.”

you choke. literally choke.

lara bursts out laughing so hard she nearly slides out of her chair. “her elbows? you’re kidding.”

“do i look like i’m kidding?” megan groans, face in her hands. “they were just… there, okay? all bendy and pointy and i—fuck, i don’t know, lara!”

“you’re a menace,” lara wheezes.

sophia puts down two iced coffees with the calm energy of someone who has done this fifty times before. “meg, sweetie, you can’t just compliment someone’s elbows. that’s serial killer energy.”

“i’m aware!” megan flails dramatically. “do you think i wanted to say it? no! my brain short-circuited, and now eunchae probably thinks i have an elbow fetish.”

“i mean,” lara says, straight-faced, “do you?”

“fuck you.”

you try to focus on your book, really you do, but their voices keep carrying and now you’re invested against your will.

megan groans again, this time smacking her forehead against the table. “i’m never gonna get this right. i’m doomed. eunchae’s never gonna look at me without thinking about goddamn elbows.”

lara spins lazily in her chair, eyes scanning the room until they land directly on you. you freeze like she just caught you doing something illegal.

“oh my god,” lara says slowly, devil’s grin spreading. “what about her?”

“what about who?” megan mumbles into the table.

lara points. right at you. “her. yn. she’s, like, perfectly put together. maybe she can teach you not to sound like a fucking idiot.”

you blink. “excuse me?”

megan jerks her head up so fast her pink streaks practically whip. her eyes land on you, and she points before she can stop herself.

“wait—you’re yn, right? oh my god, i’ve seen you in class. you’re, like… the girl who always has her notes color-coded and shit.”

you blink. “i—what?”

lara grins. “yeah, that’s her. yn could probably run a small country with her planner.”

“exactly!” megan slaps the table like she’s just solved world hunger. “you’re perfect! you actually know how to use words like a normal person. please, help me before i tell eunchae she’s got… i don’t know, nice kneecaps or some shit.”

lara is losing her mind beside her. sophia just sips her coffee and shakes her head.

“you don’t want me,” you say flatly. “i’m not—”

“yes we do,” lara cuts in, grinning like she’s just thrown you to the wolves. “come on, yn. do us all a favor. you look like you could teach someone how to flirt in a powerpoint presentation.”

“you’re such a bitch,” you shoot back.

lara smirks. “i know.”

megan leans closer, hands clasped like she’s praying. “please. i’m desperate. one more flop and eunchae’s gonna get me banned from campus.”

sophia pats your arm gently, mom-friend mode activated. “she’s not exaggerating.”

you stare at them. at megan’s wide, hopeful eyes. at lara’s smug little grin. at sophia, who looks like she already knows you’re going to cave.

and against every ounce of common sense, you say: “fine. but no elbows.”

“deal!” megan beams so brightly you have to look away.

—

step 1: confidence & compliments

you’re starting to think you’ve made the worst decision of your life.

somehow you’ve become megan skiendiel’s dating coach.

you tell yourself it’s temporary, one little favor, and then you can go back to being the quiet, slightly bitter girl in the library. but now you’re standing on the quad, and megan is bouncing on her toes like this is the olympics. lara and sophia sit nearby with all the smug energy of judges waiting to give scores.

“alright, so.” you cross your arms, trying to sound like you actually know what you’re doing. “step one is basic introduction. nothing complicated. no weird body part comments.”

megan gasps. “you say that like i’m gonna do it again.”

“you are gonna do it again,” lara says. “you’re incapable of being normal.”

“fuck you, lara,” megan shoots back.

“love you too, babe.” lara blows her a kiss.

sophia nudges your arm. “don’t worry, yn, you’ll get used to them. eventually.”

you’re not sure if that’s comforting.

“okay,” you say, rubbing your temple. “practice. megan, pretend i’m eunchae. you’re walking up to me after class. go.”

megan instantly straightens her spine, face brightening like she’s about to deliver a speech to the nation. “hi, uh… nice shirt! it really, um, compliments your… torso?”

you close your eyes. “megan.”

lara is already doubled over, wheezing. “torso! oh my god, you’re actually insane.”

“what?!” megan throws her hands out. “torsos are underrated! people always go for eyes, hair, whatever. no one appreciates the torso!”

“because it sounds like you’re about to dissect someone,” sophia says flatly.

megan groans, dragging her hands down her face. “ugh. fine. redo.” she shakes her shoulders out, takes a deep breath, and looks at you again. “hi. i liked what you said in class today. it… made me think about stuff.”

you tilt your head. “…that’s actually decent.”

her eyes widen. “really?”

“yeah. just… keep it casual. no one expects you to come up with a sonnet on the spot.”

lara pouts. “booo. boring. where’s the spice?”

“do you want her to crash and burn?” you snap.

“yes,” lara says without hesitation.

sophia elbows her. “ignore her. megan, try again, but less panicky this time.”

megan inhales dramatically, then lets it out and softens her smile. “hey. you seemed really into the debate earlier. i thought that was cool.”

there’s something steady in the way she says it this time, less like a girl fighting for her life, more like a person who actually gives a shit.

you nod slowly. “better. keep that tone.”

megan beams like you just handed her a gold medal. “fuck yeah. see, i’m getting it.”

“one (1) normal line does not equal success,” you say, but your lips twitch.

lara groans. “this is taking too long. just let her compliment eunchae’s elbows already.”

“lara.” sophia smacks her arm.

“fine, fine. god. fun police.”

—

the first real test comes the next day after class.

you’re pretending to read your notes when you hear megan whisper, “okay, okay, it’s happening,” like she’s about to storm a battlefield.

sophia nudges her forward. lara snickers like she’s watching a live prank show.

you keep your head down, but your ears perk.

megan walks right up to eunchae, who’s packing her bag. “hey. um…” she pauses, and you swear you can feel the entire quad hold its breath. “i thought what you said earlier was really cool. about, y’know, the reading? i, uh, actually looked it up after.”

there’s silence. then eunchae looks up, blinking in surprise. “oh. really? that’s… wow. thanks. most people don’t care.”

megan shrugs, suddenly casual in a way she wasn’t with you. “nah, i think you explained it really well.”

and then—eunchae smiles.

megan looks like she just discovered oxygen for the first time. “uh—anyway, yeah. cool. see you later.”

she scurries back to sophia and lara like a soldier retreating to base, face red, grin unstoppable.

sophia claps her hands. “she did it! no elbows!”

lara whistles. “not bad, meg. still think ‘nice torso’ would’ve been iconic, though.”

megan practically bounces in place. “did you see that?! she smiled! holy shit, she smiled at me!”

you keep your eyes glued to your notebook, trying not to laugh at how giddy she is.

sophia leans toward you, whispering, “see? you’re a good teacher.”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t argue.

—

step 2: shared interests

you flip to the next page of your notes, tapping the end of your pen against the margin. “alright, step two,” you say, glancing at megan. “shared interests. the whole point is finding something you both like, so you actually have something to talk about. otherwise it feels… shallow.”

megan leans forward on her elbows, hair falling in her face. “sounds easy enough.”

“it’s not just about asking random questions,” you continue, ignoring the way lara is already smirking like she’s watching a bad sitcom unfold. “it’s about listening and connecting. like, if she says she likes hiking, don’t just nod. ask where she hikes. swap a story. show her you actually care.”

megan wiggles her eyebrows. “so, pretend to care. got it.”

“no—” you groan, dragging your hand down your face. “not pretend. actually care.”

lara snorts from the couch. “good luck teaching her that.”

“i do care!” megan shoots back, indignant. “i’m literally here trying to learn.”

sophia hums from her corner chair, rummaging through her bottomless purse. “mmh. she’s got a point.” she pulls out a protein bar and tosses it onto the table like a dealer throwing cards. “but yn’s right. sincerity matters.”

you nod, turning back to megan. “so. let’s practice. ask me.”

her brows lift. “ask you what?”

“about my interests. pretend i’m eunchae.”

megan groans dramatically but straightens up, putting on a mock-serious face. “alright. yn, what are your interests?”

you pause, caught off guard by how direct it sounds, but answer anyway. “uh. i like video games. pokémon, mostly. also… music. musicals, actually.”

megan’s eyes light up. “no way, pokémon? like, the actual games or just the little creatures?”

“both,” you admit, trying not to sound sheepish. “i grew up with them.”

“same,” she says, grinning so wide her pink streaks practically glow under the overhead lights. “i still play—though i always end up picking the wrong starter and regretting it.”

“there’s no wrong starter,” you argue automatically. “they all have strengths.”

“picking charmander in gen one was definitely a mistake,” she counters, leaning closer like she’s challenging you.

“okay, fair,” you concede, and for some reason your chest warms at the way she laughs.

“and games in general, huh?” megan adds. “i didn’t peg you for the gaming type. thought you were, like, strictly academic.”

you shrug. “everyone needs a break from studying.”

lara whistles. “oh, the valedictorian’s a nerd. shocking.”

you roll your eyes, but megan just beams, like she’s found a hidden treasure.

“what about music?” she presses. “what musicals?”

before you can answer, she adds quickly, “i dance, by the way. so musicals are kind of my thing too.”

you tilt your head, surprised. “you dance?”

“yep.” she pops the ‘p’ like it’s the easiest confession in the world. “been doing it since high school. hip hop, contemporary, whatever i can get my hands on. it’s… kinda my favorite way to de-stress.”

you nod slowly. “that makes sense. explains why you’re always bouncing around like you’ve had three cups of coffee.”

lara chuckles. “she doesn’t need caffeine. she’s chaos-powered.”

“rude,” megan mutters, then turns back to you. “so, musicals?”

“wicked,” you say without hesitation. “and hadestown.”

that’s when sophia perks up from across the room, her face brightening. “did you say hadestown?”

you blink. “yeah.”

“oh my god, finally someone else who gets it.” sophia practically leaps across the space to join the table, purse still dangling from her arm. “everyone else rolls their eyes when i bring it up. you like wicked and hadestown? yn, we’re besties now.”

“hey,” megan protests, pointing dramatically between you two. “don’t just steal her like that.”

sophia ignores her, clasping your hand like you’ve made a blood pact. “i saw the tour last year. cried my eyes out.”

“same,” you say, grinning despite yourself. “the soundtrack wrecks me every time.”

“finally,” sophia sighs. “someone cultured.”

megan throws her arms up. “i’m literally right here!”

lara laughs so hard she almost falls off the couch. “god, i love this group dynamic. meg versus everyone else.”

you catch yourself laughing too, the sound bubbling up more freely than you’d expected. it feels… nice. warm. like being folded into something bigger than yourself.

later that night, megan takes her newfound confidence and goes to try it out on eunchae.

you’re tucked at a nearby table, pretending to read, though your eyes keep drifting.

“so, what about you?” megan asks, her voice a little too bright. “what’re your hobbies? stuff you’re into?”

eunchae tilts her head, considering. “i like painting. and volunteering. but not really games or musicals or… you know.” she gives a polite smile. “those just never clicked with me.”

you glance back down at your book. the words blur.

“oh, cool, cool,” megan says quickly, nodding too fast. “that’s… yeah, that’s great.”

you shouldn’t care. you tell yourself that. she’s practicing. that’s the whole point of this stupid five-step plan.

but the way her brightness falters—the way her grin strains for just a second before she pastes it back on—it sits wrong with you. like a pebble in your shoe.

you grit your teeth and refocus on the same sentence you’ve been reading for ten minutes. “not my problem,” you whisper under your breath.

by the time eunchae excuses herself, megan trudges back to your table, groaning into her arms.

“failed. again. kill me.”

lara smirks. “did you at least try not to sound like a malfunctioning toaster this time?”

“yes,” megan snaps, muffled against the desk.

“small victories,” lara deadpans.

sophia slides a granola bar in front of her. “here. eat.”

megan peeks up, grabs it like it’s life-saving, and takes a giant bite.

you clear your throat, forcing yourself to sound detached. “maybe just… try another angle next time. find something else to connect over.”

megan glances at you, crumbs stuck to her lip, and grins weakly. “thanks, coach.”

you look away, focusing on your notes again.

and when the table erupts back into its usual chaos—lara roasting, sophia fussing, megan flailing—you let yourself laugh along. but that little twist in your chest? it doesn’t leave.

you shove it down, hard.

—

step 3: vulnerability 

the cafeteria is loud in the way cafeterias always are—trays clattering, people calling across tables, laughter echoing too sharply against too much tile. you’re halfway through stabbing at a bowl of rice you didn’t really want when chaos starts three tables over.

at first it’s just noise, a crash of voices and chairs scraping back too fast. then you see it: sophia strutting—yes, strutting—across the cafeteria with a slipper raised in one hand like some kind of divine weapon. her eyes are locked on a freshman boy who’s already halfway to the doors, panicked arms flailing as if the slipper might actually take his soul.

“you think you can talk shit about my friend, huh?” sophia calls out, tone scarily calm for someone brandishing footwear. “say it again. i dare you.”

the freshman squeaks. it’s a sound you didn’t know grown humans could make. he trips over a chair leg and nearly eats floor before scrambling back up and sprinting for the exit. sophia doesn’t even chase—she just follows in this deliberate, almost elegant march, slipper still lifted.

the entire cafeteria watches in silence.

megan doesn’t even blink. she’s sitting across from you, picking at fries, pink streaks falling into her face like none of this is worth a reaction. “oooh that guy is so cooked.” she claims.

lara leans back in her chair, arms crossed, completely unfazed. “it’s a cultural reset every time she does it.”

you whip your head toward them, eyes wide. “what the fuck do you mean ‘every time’?!”

lara shrugs, cool as hell. “normal tuesday.”

“normal tuesday?!” you repeat, choking on your own voice. “she literally just—she just threatened a freshman with a shoe!”

“slipper,” megan corrects without missing a beat, dipping a fry in ketchup. “there’s a difference.”

you gape at her, searching for even a shred of disbelief in her face, but there’s nothing. absolutely nothing. both her and lara are calm like this is routine, like cafeteria slipper assaults happen biweekly.

“you people are insane,” you mutter, but your fork hovers forgotten in midair, because you can’t tear your eyes away from sophia, who’s finally lowering the slipper, satisfied. she tucks it under her arm like a general sheathing her sword.

as sophia makes her way back to the table, lara lifts her soda can in salute. “majestic as always.”

sophia drops back into her seat with a sigh, slipper thunking onto the table. “he called lara scary. like he thought she couldn’t hear him. stupid.”

lara smirks. “i am scary, though.”

“yeah,” sophia agrees serenely, “but that’s our scary, not for him to say.”

you press your palms into your eyes. “i’m surrounded by lunatics.”

“you’ll get used to it,” megan says cheerfully, like you’ve already signed some invisible contract.

the group breaks into laughter—sophia all soft giggles, lara sharp and biting, megan bright enough to make the air hum. somehow, impossibly, you find yourself laughing too, even though your brain is still trying to process slipper warfare as an accepted part of daily life.

lara’s still smirking, sipping her soda, when megan leans across the table toward you. “so what’s next, professor yn? what’s the magical step three in this love boot camp?”

you snort, almost choke on your rice. “first of all, don’t call it a boot camp. second—fine. this one’s about… vulnerability.”

“vulnerability?” sophia repeats, eyebrows raised.

“yeah.” you twirl your fork for emphasis. “like, sharing something you don’t usually tell people. insecurities, fears, whatever. the messy stuff. it’s about making space to be real, so the other person feels safe being real too. no masks, no fake coolness.”

lara barks a laugh. “so basically trauma dumping, but make it romantic?”

you shoot her a glare. “not trauma dumping. there’s a difference. it’s sharing, not unloading.”

sophia hums thoughtfully, resting her chin in her hand. “actually, that makes sense. you can’t really build closeness without honesty.”

megan’s grin is instant, wide and mischievous. “so i just walk up to eunchae like, ‘hey, fun fact, i cry whenever i see sad dog movies’? that’ll work?”

“oh my god,” you groan, dragging your palms down your face. “no. jesus. you don’t lead with that. you ease into it, naturally.”

lara leans back, arms crossed, clearly enjoying herself. “this i gotta see.”

eventually, sophia checks her phone and groans. “ugh, i promised my cousin i’d help her move her crap. lara, you’re coming.”

lara makes a face. “why me?”

“because you’re tall,” sophia replies simply, already standing.

lara groans louder but follows anyway, flipping you a mock salute on her way out. “good luck babysitting her,” she mutters, jerking her chin toward megan.

and just like that, you’re alone with her.

the cafeteria hums around you, but suddenly it feels quieter, emptier.

megan taps her fingers against the table. “so… vulnerability, huh?”

“yep.” you sip your drink, eyeing her carefully. “you game?”

she tilts her head, pink streaks catching the light. “depends. you gonna go first or should i?”

you hesitate, then sigh. “fine. i’ll start. keep it fair.”

she leans in, suddenly serious.

you exhale. “i… don’t really connect with people easily. like, i can smile and be polite, sure, but it’s… shallow. i get awkward fast. i don’t have a ton of close friends. and sometimes it feels like… like i’m on the outside of everything, no matter how hard i try.”

megan’s grin fades into something softer. she doesn’t laugh or tease. “that sounds lonely.”

“yeah,” you mutter, stabbing your fries again.

“thanks for telling me,” she says, voice low but warm.

you glance at her, caught off guard by how genuine she looks.

then she takes a deep breath. “okay. my turn.” she fidgets with the straw wrapper in her hand. “i’ve got dyslexia. and i hate it. like, really hate it. words just… blur sometimes, and reading long stuff feels like climbing a mountain. i joke about it, cover it up with sunshine crap, but it gets in my head. makes me feel dumb. and i know i’m not, but… try telling my brain that.”

the cafeteria noise fades a little. you watch her, heart tugging.

“megan…” you start.

she shrugs quickly, trying to lighten it. “dancing helps. like, my body doesn’t betray me the way words do. and making people laugh helps too. if they’re laughing, they’re not noticing me struggling with a textbook, y’know?”

you want to say something, but the words stick. instead, you nod slowly. “that… makes a lot of sense.”

you clear your throat, fingers twisting in your lap. “megan, you’re not stupid.” it slips out before you can stop it, earnest and firm. “you’re… you’re one of the smartest people i know, actually. just… not in the same way.”

her lips curve, but it’s a small, fragile thing. “thanks.”

there’s a beat of silence, then she tilts her head, eyes narrowing playfully. “your turn.”

you blink. “what?”

“vulnerability, remember? i went. now you go.”

shit. you should’ve seen this coming. you fiddle with the edge of your tray, trying to find words that don’t sound pathetic out loud. “fine,” you mutter eventually. “i… i’m not great with people. like, connecting. i’m organized and smart and whatever, but it doesn’t really matter when you can’t… talk to people right. i get awkward. i don’t have many friends. sometimes i feel like i’m just… outside everything. like i’m always the extra, the background character.”

you laugh, sharp and self-deprecating. “danielle used to call me a robot. said i didn’t have feelings. and i guess… sometimes i believe her.”

megan’s chair screeches as she leans forward, eyes blazing. “okay, first of all, fuck danielle.”

you startle at the sudden heat in her voice.

“seriously,” she continues, voice low but fierce. “you’re one of the most caring people i’ve met. you care so much it practically leaks out of you. awkward or not, you’re… real. and if danielle couldn’t see that? that’s her loss. not yours.”

something in your chest twists painfully, and you look away, blinking hard. “you’re too good at this,” you mutter.

“nah,” she says, leaning back with a grin that tries to lighten the weight. “i’m just honest.”

the two of you sit there, silence stretching but not uncomfortable. it’s softer than you’d expected, this moment—like you’d cracked yourselves open and somehow found the other person wasn’t looking to break, but to understand.

and then—because timing is cruel—eunchae walks into the cafeteria.

megan’s head snaps up instantly, and you watch as she straightens, energy shifting like someone flipped a switch. “oh shit, okay. time to try it for real.”

you force a smile, shoving the ache in your chest into a tiny locked box. “go for it.”

megan strides over to eunchae with a wave that’s just this side of awkward. you watch from your seat, tray untouched, as they start talking.

“hi eunchae!”

eunchae blinks, then smiles. “oh—hi, megan.”

“need help?” megan gestures at the tray like it’s a heroic task.

eunchae laughs lightly. “i think i can manage, thanks.” but she lets megan fall into step beside her anyway.

they find an open spot, and megan, nerves buzzing, blurts out: “so, uh, random question. do you ever… like… hide stuff? not, like, stolen silverware. i mean insecurities.”

eunchae tilts her head, surprised. “that’s… a random question.”

megan laughs nervously. “yeah, i guess i’m trying to be more real these days. not just jokes, y’know? i, uh… i’ve got dyslexia. reading long stuff feels like climbing a wall half the time. i usually cover it up with humor, but… yeah.”

eunchae’s eyes soften. “that must be hard.”

megan shrugs. “eh. dancing helps. makes me feel capable again.”

“that’s really brave to share,” eunchae says gently.

megan swallows, searching her face. “what about you? something real?”

eunchae stirs her soup thoughtfully. “i guess i… hate letting people down. i try to meet everyone’s expectations, and sometimes i lose track of what i actually want. i don’t usually admit that.”

megan nods quickly. “that’s… yeah. i get that.”

but the silence after stretches. polite. kind. flat.

from across the cafeteria, you watch, and something sharp twists in your chest.

lara isn’t here to make a comment this time. sophia isn’t here to soften the edges.

it’s just you, watching megan’s smile falter for half a second before she pastes it back on.

you tell yourself it doesn’t matter. you tell yourself you don’t care.

but your spoon trembles just slightly in your hand.

—

step 4: ask them out

you’re sitting in the cafeteria with megan, lara, and sophia, and honestly, it’s chaos as usual. trays are half-covered in fries, lara’s stabbing her fork like it’s a weapon, and megan is tapping her pink-streaked bangs against the table like she’s about to explode.

“alright, so, step four,” you say, trying to sound patient while you shove your notes aside. “this one’s about actually asking someone out. the… y’know, date invitation step.”

megan immediately groans, dropping her head into her hands. “oh my god. i’m gonna combust. i can’t even say hi to eunchae without sounding like i’ve swallowed a bee, and now you expect me to be like, hey, wanna go grab dinner?”

lara snorts, leaning back in her chair. “please. you’d be lucky if it just sounded like a bee. last time it was more like a goat choking.”

“excuse you—” megan whips her head up, scandalized, but sophia pats her arm gently before it can escalate.

“no, but lara’s right,” sophia says, soft but mischievous. “you panic too much. you need practice. real practice.” she glances at you for a second, and you swear there’s a glint in her eyes like she’s plotting. “what if you went on a practice date first?”

megan blinks. “with who? i can’t exactly bribe some stranger—”

lara smirks, already pointing her fork straight at you. “oh, that’s easy. yn.”

you choke on your drink. “what?”

“what,” megan echoes, nearly knocking over her plate.

lara waves her fork like it’s obvious. “c’mon. yn’s organized, she knows the steps, she’s… not terrible company—”

“wow, thanks,” you deadpan.

“—so it makes sense. she’ll keep you from flopping. also,” lara adds, grinning now, “i wanna see you two go on a fake date. that sounds hilarious.”

sophia swats her arm but doesn’t deny it. instead she looks at you, steady and encouraging. “it makes sense though, right? yn already knows what you’re trying to do. if you practice with her, you won’t feel like you’re gonna die in front of eunchae.”

megan turns to you like you’re her lifeline, eyes wide. “would you… actually do that? like—just for practice?”

your brain screams no, but your mouth says, “yeah, sure. practice.”

lara claps her hands. “perfect. let’s set it up before either of you chickens out.”

you and megan share a look across the table, both of you trying to play it cool, both failing miserably.

—

you don’t know why you said yes.

actually, you do. because lara wouldn’t fucking shut up about it.

“if we’re doing practice dates, we’re doing them right,” she declared last night, standing in your doorway like she was about to pitch a pyramid scheme. “a whole day. full girlfriend package.”

you almost slammed the door in her face. “don’t call it that.”

but now it’s saturday afternoon, and you’re regretting every life choice that led you to following megan into an arcade that smells like stale popcorn and broken dreams.

the place is buzzing. neon lights flash, coins clatter, kids scream at machines. megan’s eyes light up like she’s found her natural habitat.

“holy shit, skee-ball,” she says, already fishing tokens out of her pocket.

“megan, we’re not—”

“yes we are.” she grabs your wrist, drags you over.

before you can protest, she’s launching balls like she’s in the fucking olympics, racking up tickets while you can barely get yours into the ramp.

“this is rigged,” you mutter as another ball bounces pathetically into the gutter.

“nah, you just suck.” she smirks, her machine spitting out tickets. “date tip number one: always let the other person win at least once. it’s called generosity.”

“you’re not letting me win.”

“yeah, but i could. that’s what counts.”

you’re still grumbling when she drags you to dance dance revolution.

“absolutely not.”

“absolutely yes.” coins clink, the screen flashes, and suddenly you’re on the platform as techno music blares.

megan stomps like she’s performing in front of a stadium. you, meanwhile, look like a malfunctioning pigeon.

she’s laughing so hard she nearly misses a step. “holy fuck, yn, you dance like you’re trying to summon satan.”

“shut up! i’m trying!”

“trying to break the machine, maybe!”

you nearly trip off the edge. she’s howling.

by the time you finally stumble away, sweaty and humiliated, she buys you a consolation soda and shoves a tiny pikachu keychain into your hand.

“for effort,” she says casually.

you blink. “…you won this?”

“duh. you weren’t gonna.” she shrugs, sipping her soda. “don’t make it weird.”

you slip the keychain into your pocket, hiding the way your chest feels weirdly warm.

dinner ends up at a little diner near campus. megan props her chin in her hands, staring at the menu like it’s a math exam.

“what’re you getting?” she asks.

“burger, probably. easy.”

“wow. safe choice.” she smirks. “you don’t strike me as a plain burger girl.”

“and what do i strike you as?”

“mmm…” she taps her chin theatrically. “spicy noodles. or like… something with way too much cheese.”

“you’re not wrong,” you admit, and she beams like she’s won a prize.

the food comes fast, and conversation drifts. she tells you about how she used to sneak into arcades as a kid, you mention how you once beat a rhythm game on expert mode, she groans dramatically again.

“god, you’re such a nerd.”

“takes one to know one,” you retort, and she laughs so loud the table behind you turns to stare.

—

back at your dorm, the air feels too still without sophia’s constant humming in the background. megan barges in like she owns the place, tossing her bag onto the chair and immediately flopping across your bed with the grace of a starfish.

“movie night,” she declares, muffled into your pillow. “your bed is comfier than mine. i’m not sorry.”

“you didn’t even ask,” you say, exasperated, but you’re already pulling up the streaming app.

“consider this… my tax for being emotionally traumatized by air hockey,” she says, rolling onto her back with a dramatic sigh.

“you were the one who suggested it,” you remind her, but she only sticks her tongue out.

you throw a blanket over her face. she squeaks, flails, then yanks it off, glaring. “unnecessary violence! i’m a guest!”

“you’re impossible,” you mutter, trying not to laugh.

the movie starts, the glow painting the room in shifting blues and golds. megan pulls the blanket around herself like a cape, then gestures for you to sit. “c’mon. floor goblin or couch potato, pick your poison.”

with a resigned sigh, you sit beside her. somehow, the blanket ends up draped over both of you.

at first, it’s easy. the two of you heckle the opening scene, argue over the main character’s outfit, toss popcorn at each other like children.

“that’s not how swords work!” megan yells.

“you’ve never even touched a sword,” you shoot back.

“i’ve touched chopsticks. same vibe.”

you snort so hard popcorn almost comes out your nose.

half an hour in, though, the noise settles. your laughter tapers into quieter giggles. the blanket shifts, your knees brushing hers. it should mean nothing—just a crowded dorm bed, just two people sharing space. but the way your pulse jumps makes it feel like the entire world shrank down to this one spot.

at one point, she spills soda on herself, yelps, “betrayal!” and waves her hands like she’s been mortally wounded.

“you’re so dramatic,” you say, grabbing her a hoodie from your closet.

she pulls it on, sniffing the collar. “wow. smells like you.”

your brain short-circuits. “shut up.”

“no, really. comfy.” she burrows into it like a cat. “10/10 would steal again.”

you roll your eyes, but your chest feels too warm, too tight.

the movie keeps playing, but your focus drifts. you notice the way her hair curls slightly at the ends, the way her laugh softens when she’s not trying to be loud, the way her knee keeps pressing against yours like she’s forgotten she could move away.

megan leans forward during an intense scene, eyes wide, lips parted. the blanket slips, and without thinking, you tug it back over her shoulders.

she glances at you, a small smile flickering. “thanks.”

simple. ordinary. but it lingers.

“you know,” she says after a long stretch of silence, “if this was a real date, i think i’d be killing it.”

you raise an eyebrow. “you spilled soda on yourself.”

“battle scars,” she says solemnly. “chicks dig ‘em.”

you snort. “you’re ridiculous.”

“and yet you’re still here,” she teases, nudging your shoulder.

“only because this is practice,” you shoot back, but your voice doesn’t carry as much bite as it should.

her grin softens into something quieter. “practice. right.”

the room feels different after that. the jokes don’t come as easily. the silence isn’t empty—it’s loaded, heavy in your chest.

on screen, the characters are confessing, music swelling. beside you, megan shifts closer without realizing, her head tilting toward yours.

you turn to make a comment, and suddenly she’s right there.

her breath brushes your lips. her eyes flick down, then back up, wide and uncertain.

for a suspended heartbeat, the world holds its breath.

this could happen. this almost does happen.

your heart slams against your ribs so loud you’re sure she hears it.

then she jerks back, laughing too loudly. “uh—popcorn! you, uh, dropped some.”

you blink, dazed. “right. yeah. popcorn.”

the rest of the movie is a blur. neither of you look directly at the screen. every brush of the blanket feels like static, every laugh feels like it’s covering something heavier.

when the credits roll, megan stretches like nothing happened, though her ears are pink. “so, uh. practice date… success?”

“sure,” you say, trying to sound casual. “yeah. success.”

“cool. cool cool cool.” she edges toward the door, hoodie still hanging off her shoulders. “goodnight then.”

“goodnight.”

the door clicks shut, and you collapse backward onto the bed, heart racing, the smell of popcorn and her shampoo still tangled in the blanket between your fingers.

—

the morning after the movie night feels… weird.

you run into megan in the cafeteria. she’s already at the table with lara and sophia, stirring her cereal with a spoon like she’s mixing cement. her hoodie’s hood is pulled halfway up, and her pink streaks are sticking out at odd angles.

when her eyes flick up to meet yours, both of you freeze.

“uh,” she says.

“uh,” you echo, because apparently your brain has forgotten every word in the english language.

lara blinks between the two of you. “why do you two sound like broken printers?”

“we don’t,” you say too quickly.

“totally normal,” megan adds, stabbing her cereal so hard milk splashes onto the table.

sophia raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. instead, she just pops a grape into her mouth and hums like she knows something you don’t.

you’re halfway through your food when eunchae walks in. she waves at the group, smile bright.

megan perks up instantly, almost knocking her spoon over. “hey, eunchae!”

your stomach does a weird twist, but you keep your face neutral, biting into your toast.

eunchae slides into the empty seat across from megan. “hey, what’s up?”

“uh—” megan scratches the back of her neck, then blurts, “do you… wanna go out sometime? like, on a date?”

you choke on your toast.

lara smacks your back helpfully. “smooth, yn.”

“shut up,” you hiss, face burning.

eunchae tilts her head, then smiles. “sure. i’d like that.”

megan looks like she’s just won the lottery. “really? awesome.”

“yay,” you say, forcing a grin that feels plastered on. “go megan, go. you got this.” your voice cracks halfway through, but you pray no one notices.

megan beams. eunchae beams. and you sip your orange juice like it might drown the strange, heavy ache curling in your chest.

—

the date itself is a nightmare. not for megan, not for eunchae—oh no, they look perfectly fine, laughing and chatting as they stroll into the arcade. it’s a nightmare for you, because you’re lurking two machines away with a boba tea in hand, trying to look invisible.

“wow, yn, real subtle,” lara had muttered earlier when you admitted you might ‘just happen to be there.’ sophia had rolled her eyes and muttered something in tagalog that you didn’t understand but definitely wasn’t flattering.

you stick to the shadows anyway.

megan’s competitive streak kicks in immediately, dragging eunchae toward skee-ball. “okay, i’m warning you, i’m basically a pro at this,” she says.

she proceeds to miss the first three shots. eunchae laughs, covering her mouth, and offers a tip. megan grins sheepishly.

you sip your boba so hard the tapioca pearls nearly choke you.

dinner is worse. they get pizza at the same place you and megan had gone. you sit at a corner table with your drink, pretending to scroll your phone while watching them.

they talk, they smile, they share breadsticks. and you realize you’re not just uncomfortable—you’re jealous. bitterly, painfully jealous.

you hate how natural megan looks leaning across the table. you hate how she lights up at eunchae’s stories. you hate that someone else gets to see her like this.

halfway through the meal, you can’t take it anymore. you toss your empty cup, shove your hands into your pockets, and leave.

megan’s eyes flick toward the door as you walk out, but she doesn’t move.

the rest of the date plays out fine—pizza, laughter, a stroll under streetlights. but for megan, something feels… off. she can’t shake the hollowness, the nagging thought that it’s fun, it’s nice, but it’s not sparking. not the way it did when she was yelling about popcorn with you the night before.

when eunchae says goodnight, megan smiles, thanks her, but her head’s somewhere else.

—

you’re curled up on your bed when the door bangs open and megan storms in like she owns the place. she’s flushed from the night air, hair frizzed around her face, pink streak catching the light. she doesn’t even hesitate—just slams the door shut behind her and plants herself in the middle of your dorm like she’s about to demand rent.

“hey,” she says, voice breathless but sharp.

you don’t look up from the book in your lap. “hey.” flat. clipped. a shield of a word.

she crosses her arms. “you left.”

“yeah.” you flick a page you haven’t read. “i was tired.”

“don’t give me that.” her tone cuts through the room. “you didn’t even say goodbye. you just—vanished.”

“you were busy.”

“so?” she takes a step closer, her sneakers squeaking faintly on the tile. “you could’ve tapped me on the shoulder, said, ‘hey, i’m going.’ that’s what normal people do, yn.”

your jaw tightens. “maybe i’m not normal.”

she blinks. “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“it means—” you slam the book shut, the sound ricocheting between the walls. “—maybe i don’t make sense to you. maybe that’s just how it is.”

her mouth opens, then snaps shut, frustration flaring across her face. “no, no, don’t do that cryptic bullshit with me. i’m not a mind reader. if something’s wrong, just say it.”

you throw the book onto your desk, the pages fluttering open. “what do you want me to say, megan? that i didn’t feel like third-wheeling your little romcom with eunchae? that maybe watching you smile across a table with someone else felt like—” you cut yourself off, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek. the words you don’t want spilling out are pressing hot and heavy at the back of your throat.

megan stares, eyes narrowing, trying to piece you together. “felt like what?”

you shake your head, forcing your voice cold. “forget it.”

her hands fly up, exasperated. “god, you’re impossible sometimes! you shut me out and then act like i’m the one not trying.”

“maybe you aren’t trying hard enough!” the words leap out before you can stop them, raw and jagged.

her mouth falls open. the silence that follows is deafening.

you swallow, guilt twisting in your gut, but your pride won’t let you take it back. “just drop it, okay? i don’t wanna do this right now.”

megan’s jaw clenches. her eyes shine, hurt and confusion flashing beneath the anger. “fine. whatever.”

she turns on her heel and yanks the door open. the slam rattles the walls, and then she’s gone, leaving nothing but the echo and the ragged pounding of your own heartbeat.

you sit frozen, every nerve buzzing, every unsaid word pressing like glass shards against your chest. you press your palms to your face, but it doesn’t stop the sting or the hollow ache spreading through you.

the dorm feels too quiet. too empty. and for the first time in a long time, you feel small.

—

the morning after feels like sandpaper against your skin. your alarm shrieks at 8:00, but you’ve already been awake for an hour, staring at the ceiling and replaying every word from last night until they blur together like static.

megan’s voice, sharp and hurt.

your own, sharper and meaner.

the door slam.

you drag yourself out of bed anyway, hair a mess, hoodie half-zipped, the weight of exhaustion clinging like fog.

sophia’s already up, perched at her desk, humming softly while brushing her hair. when she catches sight of you, her humming stops. her brows pinch together.

“you look like someone ran you over,” she says, voice gentle, but the words land like a mother’s scolding.

“thanks,” you mutter, grabbing your toothbrush.

“yn.” she swivels in her chair, crossing her arms. “want to talk about why you’re radiating doom energy this early?”

you freeze at the doorway, toothbrush in hand, debating whether to lie. “just… tired.”

sophia raises an eyebrow. “tired, or the kind of tired where you fought with megan and now you’re spiraling?”

your stomach knots. you glare weakly. “do you have to be so psychic?”

she smirks, but it’s soft around the edges. “i’m not psychic. i just know you. and you’ve got that post-fight slump face.”

before you can respond, the door creaks open again, and lara strolls in like she owns the place. burgundy hair shining, oversized hoodie hanging off one shoulder. she has a coffee cup in one hand and pure judgment in her eyes.

“well, well, well,” she drawls, leaning against the doorframe. “if it isn’t the ghost of bad decisions past.”

you groan. “not you too.”

lara sips her coffee loudly, savoring the moment. “sophia texted me. said you were brooding like a victorian widow. i had to see it for myself.”

sophia swats her lightly. “stop being dramatic.”

“me? dramatic? never.” lara plops onto your bed without permission, kicking her shoes off. “so. you and meg had a blowout?”

“it wasn’t a blowout,” you snap, then sigh. “okay, maybe it was. a little.”

lara tilts her head, assessing. “what’d you do? call her an idiot? she can take that. tell her she’s bad at dancing? unforgivable.”

you bury your face in your hands. “i just… snapped. she asked why i left last night, and i couldn’t explain without…” your throat tightens. “…without saying too much.”

sophia’s gaze softens. “so you pushed her away instead.”

you nod, the weight of it pressing harder.

lara leans back, exhaling. “look, i get it. feelings are messy, terrifying, all that shit. but bottling them up until you explode? classic yn move. and now meg’s probably pacing her dorm like a golden retriever who lost her ball.”

that earns a faint laugh out of you, though it’s bitter at the edges. “great. i made her miserable.”

“and yourself.” sophia’s tone is gentle, not accusing.

you slump against your desk, forehead pressed to the cool surface. “i don’t know how to fix it.”

“start by talking to her,” sophia says. “not cryptic riddles, not sarcasm. just… talk.”

lara nudges your shoulder. “and for the love of god, don’t run away next time she looks at you like you hung the moon.”

your head snaps up. “she does not—”

lara grins. “uh-huh.”

sophia smiles knowingly, not saying a word, but the look in her eyes tells you she agrees.

you groan again, grabbing a pillow to smother yourself. the sound of your friends’ laughter fills the dorm, warm and grounding. but under it all, the ache in your chest lingers, sharp and unrelenting.

you don’t even get the chance to wallow. lara steals your pillow after your half-hearted attempt to suffocate yourself, and sophia claps her hands like a kindergarten teacher.

“up,” sophia orders. “we’re going to breakfast.”

“i’m not hungry,” you mumble, trying to wrestle your pillow back from lara, who’s now hugging it like a prize.

lara smirks. “bullshit. you’re always hungry. you sulk better with pancakes anyway.”

“seriously, i just—”

“nope.” sophia cuts you off, already grabbing her purse. “you haven’t had coffee, your face looks like death, and if i let you sit here, you’ll spiral so hard you’ll start writing sad poetry. we’re not doing that.”

“yeah,” lara says, hopping off your bed. “we’re doing carbs and intervention.”

you groan, but they’re immovable forces. before you know it, you’re trudging out the door sandwiched between them, hair messy, hoodie zipped all the way up. sophia’s arm is linked with yours, warm and steady, while lara walks a half-step ahead, tossing back commentary like she’s narrating a reality show.

the campus café buzzes with early chatter, the smell of butter and syrup thick in the air. sophia corrals you into a booth by the window, shoving a menu in your hands. lara immediately steals it.

“you’re not allowed to pick,” she says, scanning. “you’ll order something depressing like plain toast.”

“toast isn’t depressing,” you mutter.

“it is if that’s your whole meal,” lara shoots back. “you’re getting waffles. extra whipped cream. i don’t make the rules.”

sophia flags down a waiter with the calm precision of someone who always knows what she wants. “three coffees. two waffles, one omelet. thank you.”

you blink at her. “what if i didn’t want—”

“you wanted,” she says, sipping her water. “trust me.”

when the food arrives, the table fills with the kind of chaos only the three of you can manage: lara stealing your bacon, sophia sliding a protein bar across the table “just in case,” and you swatting at both of them like it’ll make a difference.

“so,” lara says around a mouthful of waffle. “what’s the game plan with meg?”

your fork freezes mid-air. “what do you mean?”

sophia leans in, eyes kind but unwavering. “yn. you two fought. she’s probably hurting. and you… well, you’re obviously hurting too.”

“i’ll survive,” you mutter.

lara snorts. “yeah, but surviving isn’t the same as fixing it.”

you frown at your plate, pushing syrup around with your fork. “i don’t even know what to say to her.”

“start with sorry,” sophia suggests. “then maybe… honest words? you’re good with words when you let yourself be.”

lara smirks. “or just send her a meme. nothing says ‘olive branch’ like a cursed cat picture.”

you roll your eyes, but a tiny laugh escapes before you can stop it. “yeah, real mature.”

“hey, it works,” lara insists. “low-stakes, opens the door. then you can actually talk.”

sophia tilts her head, watching you carefully. “she means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”

the question lands heavy in your chest. you don’t answer right away, instead stabbing at your waffle like it’s to blame for everything. “she’s… she’s my friend.” the word feels too small, too flimsy, but it’s the only one you can manage.

lara and sophia exchange a look you pointedly ignore.

“text her,” sophia says softly, sliding your phone across the table. “just… something. let her know you’re here.”

you stare at the screen, Megan’s name sitting at the top of your messages like it’s waiting. your thumb hovers, heart pounding.

lara leans back, arms crossed. “do it. or i’ll draft something myself and it’ll be way worse.”

you glare. “you wouldn’t.”

“try me.” she grins, all teeth.

a beat of silence. then, with a resigned sigh, you type out something small, neutral, stupidly safe: hey. hope you got home okay. you hit send before you can second-guess yourself.

sophia smiles, warm and approving. “see? not so bad.”

but as you shove another bite of waffle into your mouth, the weight in your chest doesn’t lighten. if anything, it presses heavier, because you know one small text isn’t enough—not when what you really want to say is clawing at the edges of your throat.

—

megan had been stabbing at her muffin for ten minutes before lara finally said something about it.

“jesus christ, meg, what did that muffin ever do to you?”

megan blinked, snapping back to the present. the fork in her hand was bent at an odd angle, crumbs scattered across the plastic tray like debris after a storm. she hadn’t even tasted the thing.

“nothing,” she muttered, dropping the fork. “i just—i’m not hungry.”

lara leaned back in her chair, balancing it precariously on two legs, eyes glittering with mischief. “you look like a cartoon villain plotting world domination over baked goods.”

“i’m fine.”

“liar,” lara sing-songed.

sophia, ever the calmer presence, sipped her coffee and gave lara a pointed look. “stop teasing her.” then, more gently to megan, “sweetheart, you’re clearly not fine. what’s going on?”

megan pressed her palms against her thighs, trying to ground herself. the cafeteria buzzed around them — students laughing, trays clattering, the sharp hiss of the coffee machine. it should’ve been background noise, but everything felt too loud, pressing in on her from all sides.

she wanted to say nothing. she wanted to swallow it down like she always did. but the weight of last night — the almost-kiss with yn, the way it had thrown her entire axis off balance — was still too fresh, too raw.

her mouth opened, then closed again.

lara’s smirk widened. “ohhh. this is about yn, isn’t it?”

megan’s head snapped up, heat flooding her cheeks. “no!”

the denial was too sharp, too fast, and both lara and sophia knew it.

lara slapped her hand dramatically on the table. “guilty!”

sophia sighed. “lara, don’t—”

“no, no, listen.” lara leaned forward, chair clattering back onto four legs. “she’s got that look. the i-almost-did-something-stupid look. am i right?”

megan groaned and dropped her forehead to the table, muffled. “i hate both of you.”

“no you don’t,” lara said cheerfully, plucking a crumb off megan’s tray. “mmm. angst-flavored carbs. delicious.”

sophia rubbed small circles on megan’s back, voice soft. “we’re not trying to make you feel bad. but, honey, avoiding it isn’t going to make it disappear.”

megan forced herself upright, crossing her arms. “you guys don’t understand. i can’t—I can’t screw this up. so… i’m going to ask eunchae out again.”

that shut both of them up.

sophia blinked. “i’m sorry, what?”

lara gawked. “that’s your solution? really?”

megan bristled. “she’s nice. she’s safe.”

lara smacked her forehead. “safe? meg, you don’t pick a date like you’re picking insurance coverage.”

“you don’t get it,” megan muttered, suddenly very interested in a crack in the table.

sophia’s tone sharpened, though it was still kind. “you don’t need safe. you need honest.”

before megan could reply, the cafeteria doors swung open, and eunchae walked in, sunlight spilling in behind her. she looked effortless, easy smile as she scanned the room. megan’s stomach dropped.

lara muttered under her breath, “oh, perfect timing.”

megan’s pulse pounded. she stood too fast, chair screeching across the floor. “uh—hey, eunchae!”

eunchae’s eyes found hers, surprised but pleased. “oh, hey, megan.”

lara and sophia both looked like they’d just been handed front-row seats to a slow-motion car crash.

megan’s throat felt dry. “do you, uh… want to go out again? like—another date?”

lara fake-coughed, “smooth,” earning herself a sharp elbow from sophia.

eunchae blinked, then gave a soft smile. “oh. um, sure. yeah, i’d like that.”

megan’s heart jumped, relief loosening her chest. “great! awesome. yeah.”

lara groaned audibly. sophia pinched the bridge of her nose.

megan ignored both.

—

the park was alive with weekend noise. kids chased each other down winding paths, couples sprawled on picnic blankets, dogs darted after frisbees. megan and eunchae found a bench under the shade of a sprawling tree, a shared bag of chips between them.

they laughed about nothing at first — professors who wore too much cologne, classmates who talked too loud, the time megan tripped on the practice room stairs and tried to style it out like a dance move. it was easy.

and that was the problem.

megan kept waiting for that little spark, that electric pull she’d read about in bad romance novels. but instead, there was just… quiet comfort. nice. safe. like talking to a friend she respected.

eunchae brushed crumbs off her lap. “so. what kind of people do you usually like?”

megan chuckled nervously, scratching the back of her neck. “uh… chaotic, apparently.”

eunchae laughed. “that tracks.”

“and you?”

“people who make me laugh without trying,” eunchae said, smiling warmly at her. “people who feel comfortable. like you.”

megan should’ve felt something then. should’ve felt her pulse quicken, should’ve lost her words. instead, she just smiled weakly and felt the hollowness in her chest widen.

they let the silence stretch.

finally, eunchae tilted her head. “megan. are you okay?”

megan sighed, shoulders sagging. “honestly? i don’t know. i thought this was what i wanted. practice. but…”

“but?”

the words came out before she could stop them. “i’ve been getting help. from yn. she’s been coaching me through all this.”

eunchae’s brows lifted. “oh. really?”

“yeah. she’s—” megan’s throat tightened. “she’s incredible. patient. funny. smart. just… yn.”

there it was, plain as day. the way her chest ached just saying your name.

eunchae studied her for a moment, then gave a small, knowing smile. “so… you don’t feel a spark with me, do you?”

megan winced. “…i’m sorry.”

“don’t be.” eunchae shook her head. “i kind of figured.”

megan blinked. “you did?”

“the way you look at her? the way she looks at you? it’s obvious.”

heat rushed to megan’s cheeks. “it is?”

“painfully,” eunchae said with a soft laugh. “but that’s not a bad thing. it just means you already know who makes you light up. it’s not me. and that’s okay.”

megan’s throat tightened, words breaking. “you’re… way too nice about this.”

“nah.” eunchae smiled, gentle as ever. “i just know when to step aside. you should tell her, megan. before it’s too late.”

megan’s chest felt heavy and light all at once. “thank you. seriously.”

“go get your girl,” eunchae said, rising from the bench with a little wave.

megan watched her go, heart hammering, eunchae’s words echoing in her head.

the night after that, megan didn’t sleep well. she tossed, she turned, she stared at the ceiling until the shapes in the plaster swirled into nonsense. every time she shut her eyes she saw eunchae’s face, kind but firm, the words replaying like a drumbeat. go get your girl. it should’ve felt like encouragement, like a green light. instead it weighed on her chest, a reminder that everyone seemed to know what she hadn’t dared say out loud.

by morning she was a mess. hair sticking out in too many directions, shirt wrinkled from falling asleep on top of it, under-eye circles dark enough to pass for war paint. she shuffled into the cafeteria with her tray, scanning for familiar faces, and spotted lara and sophia at their usual corner table.

lara spotted her first. she let out a low whistle and clapped once. “look alive, skiendiel. you look like you just wrestled a raccoon for dumpster rights.”

“shut up,” megan mumbled, dropping her tray with a clatter and collapsing into the chair beside them.

sophia took one look at her and slid her own coffee cup across the table. “drink this before lara makes it worse.”

lara leaned her chin in her hand, grinning. “megan, honey, i don’t think anything can make this worse. unless you tell me you actually confessed last night and yn laughed in your face. did that happen?”

“no,” megan snapped, then immediately deflated. “but it might as well have. eunchae knows. she told me to tell yn before it’s too late.”

sophia raised her brows. “oh.”

lara let out a bark of laughter loud enough to make the table behind them turn. “you mean she gave you the ‘go get your girl’ speech? iconic.”

“it’s not iconic,” megan groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “it’s humiliating. i’ve been stringing eunchae along while—while—”

“while you’ve been pining for yn like a sad victorian poet,” lara supplied.

“i’m not—” megan started, then stopped. because she was. oh god, she was.

sophia gave her that soft look, the one that always made megan feel both seen and unbearably vulnerable. “it’s not humiliating, love. eunchae was honest with you. she gave you space to be honest with yourself.”

“i don’t want to talk about it,” megan muttered, stabbing her fork into the eggs she didn’t want to eat.

lara plucked a piece of toast from megan’s tray, unconcerned. “cool. then let’s talk strategy.”

megan’s head shot up. “strategy?”

“yeah, genius,” lara said around a mouthful of toast. “confession strategy. the big plan. the dramatic moment where you bare your soul and yn finally realizes she’s been in love with you the whole time—”

“lara,” sophia warned.

“what? i’m just saying, if this were a k-drama, we’d be two episodes away from the finale kiss.”

megan groaned so hard her head thunked onto the table. “kill me.”

“nope.” lara kicked her under the table. “you don’t get to die until you confess. those are the rules.”

sophia slid the coffee back toward her. “megan. drink.”

she did, mostly to hide behind the cup. it burned her tongue but she didn’t care.

lara leaned back, smug. “so, step one: you stop acting like yn’s a plague victim you need to quarantine yourself from. step two: you find the right moment. not too crowded, not too quiet. somewhere she feels comfortable.”

megan lifted her head, skeptical. “and where would that be?”

sophia’s lips curved. “her dorm. her safe space. or maybe a walk. she likes parks.”

“oh my god,” megan muttered. “you two are literally plotting this like an ambush.”

lara shrugged. “better than watching you mope yourself into a tragic folk song.”

megan chewed her lip, staring at her plate. the thought of confessing made her stomach churn, but the thought of not confessing made something else twist tighter. eunchae had been right — she couldn’t keep circling forever.

sophia tilted her head, studying her. “what’s the worst that could happen?”

megan laughed, sharp and humorless. “uh, rejection? ruining everything? making her hate me?”

“or,” sophia countered gently, “the best thing could happen. you just don’t know until you try.”

lara snapped her fingers. “exactly. this is like ripping off a bandaid. except the bandaid is your entire chest cavity.”

“thanks, lara,” megan muttered.

but despite herself, she could feel something shifting. a slow, reluctant crack in the wall she’d been bricking up around her feelings. eunchae’s kindness, lara’s teasing, sophia’s quiet support — it all pressed in on her until the thought she’d been trying to avoid was suddenly impossible to ignore.

she liked yn. not in the abstract, not in a maybe-kind-of way. she liked her. wanted her. cared about her in a way that made her both exhilarated and sick with nerves.

and now everyone knew.

lara saw the look on her face and smirked, victorious. “there it is. the dawning horror of realization. welcome to the club, meg.”

“what club?”

“the club of idiots in love,” lara said cheerfully. “membership’s free, but the emotional damage is permanent.”

sophia rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. “ignore her. you’re doing fine. just take it one step at a time.”

megan let her head fall back with a groan, but for the first time the noise carried a thread of laughter too. “i’m doomed.”

lara leaned across the table, stealing another piece of toast. “yep. gloriously doomed. but don’t worry — we’ll make sure your downfall is at least entertaining.”

megan didn’t know if she was ready. didn’t know if she ever would be. but with her friends flanking her, teasing and scheming and pushing her forward, she felt something like courage start to stir beneath the nerves.

she still had to face yn. still had to open her mouth and say the words that had been strangling her for weeks. but maybe — just maybe — she wasn’t as alone in this as she thought.

and that was enough to keep her sitting there, sipping burnt coffee and listening to lara and sophia argue over confession venues like two event planners on a deadline, her heart racing with something terrifyingly close to hope.

—

you hate mornings. not because of the sunlight through the dorm window or the alarm that always rings too early, but because mornings are quiet. quiet means thinking. and thinking means megan.

it’s pathetic, you tell yourself. it’s been days since the almost-kiss, days since the fight, and still she lingers in your chest like a bruise you can’t stop pressing. every time you catch yourself replaying the way her laugh slid under your skin or the way her hand brushed yours, you shake your head and bury yourself in homework. as if grades will save you from feelings.

danielle’s voice creeps in sometimes, sharp and cold. robot. no feelings. you grind your teeth against it, because you know it’s not true. if you were really heartless, you wouldn’t ache like this. you wouldn’t miss someone who drives you absolutely insane.

you tell yourself you don’t miss megan. you just… miss having someone to banter with. anyone would leave a silence behind if they were loud enough, bright enough. that’s all it is.

sophia doesn’t buy it. she comes back from class one afternoon, drops her bag, and fixes you with that too-gentle look that makes you want to hide under the desk. “you’ve been moping.”

“i don’t mope,” you say flatly, not looking up from your laptop.

“you definitely mope,” she counters, pulling a protein bar from her never-ending purse and tossing it at you. “eat. and stop pretending you don’t miss her.”

you catch the bar, scowling. “i don’t—”

“yes, you do,” sophia interrupts, with the ease of someone who’s already decided she’s right.

before you can argue, the door bangs open and lara strolls in uninvited, as usual. “jesus, this room’s depressing. what’d i miss?”

“yn denying she misses megan,” sophia supplies.

lara smirks, leaning against the wall. “classic. you know, for a valedictorian type, you’re pretty dumb sometimes.”

“don’t call me that,” you snap automatically, heat rushing to your face.

lara raises her hands in mock surrender. “fine, fine. smartypants, then. point is, you look like death warmed over. and not in your usual tired-but-pretty way.”

you want to tell them both to shut up. you want to say you don’t care. but your throat burns, traitorously tight, and you can’t make the words come out.

sophia sighs and pats your knee. “come to breakfast tomorrow. both of us. no excuses. you need air.”

you start to protest, but lara cuts in with a wicked grin. “yeah, c’mon. maybe megan’ll be there.”

your stomach drops. you glare at her. “that’s not funny.”

“oh, it’s hilarious,” lara says. “but fine, i’ll shut up. just… stop sulking like a victorian widow, yeah?”

the next morning they drag you out anyway. you shuffle into the cafeteria between them, head down, tray clutched like a shield. the place hums with chatter, too bright, too loud.

and then you see her.

megan, at a table across the room, hair pulled into a messy bun with those pink streaks slipping loose. laughing at something lara must’ve said yesterday, shoulders loose in a way that twists something in your chest. she hasn’t seen you yet, and for a split second you consider bolting.

but sophia’s hand rests lightly at your back, steady. lara mutters, “don’t you dare,” and nudges you forward.

megan looks up. her smile falters when she sees you, just for a second, then it’s back in place — too quick, too careful.

you force yourself to wave. “hey.”

“hey,” she says, and her voice wobbles like a radio station just out of tune.

lara mutters something about needing more coffee and vanishes with sophia in tow, leaving you both standing there, alone in the hum of the cafeteria.

you clear your throat. “mind if i sit?”

“no, yeah, sure,” megan says, shifting her tray like it’s suddenly too small.

the silence stretches, brittle. you stab at your eggs just to have something to do with your hands.

finally, megan exhales. “i’m sorry.”

you blink. “what?”

“about the fight,” she says, eyes on her plate. “i didn’t mean to… i don’t know. i didn’t mean for it to go like that.”

your chest loosens, just a little. “me neither.”

she risks a glance up, and for a moment it’s like nothing cracked at all. just you and her, trading apologies over bad cafeteria food, the world pressing in close but not close enough to break it.

you want to say you missed her. you want to say it so badly your tongue aches with it. instead you settle for, “truce?”

her grin blooms, lopsided and warm. “truce.”

the rest of breakfast hums along easier, small jokes and clumsy stumbles back into familiar rhythms. not perfect. not healed. but something like a start.

and you try — really try — not to wonder if maybe this is what danielle was wrong about. maybe you do feel. too much, even. maybe megan’s the proof.

—

step 5: confess

breakfast ends too quickly. you tell yourself you’re relieved — that it’s better to retreat now, while things are tentative, while the threads are only just being mended. but when megan stands and brushes crumbs from her jeans, you feel a hollow tug at your chest.

“you, uh,” she says, shifting her tray from one hand to the other. “you free? i was thinking… maybe we could walk for a bit.”

your instinct is to say no. safer to keep things short, controlled. but the way her eyes flick away, the nervous curl of her fingers against the plastic tray, makes something in you soften. so you nod.

the air outside is crisp, sunlight muted behind soft clouds. you walk side by side, not touching, the space between you humming like static. it’s easier to start with small things — the new professor lara hates, sophia’s habit of humming off-key when she’s concentrating. slowly, cautiously, you trade little pieces of normalcy, like bricks rebuilt one at a time.

“i missed this,” megan admits finally, her voice quiet but steady.

you glance at her, startled. she’s staring straight ahead, hands in her pockets.

“me too,” you say, almost a whisper.

the silence after is heavy, but not unbearable. you carry it down the path, through the faint crunch of gravel and the laughter of distant students.

eventually, you end up at the park. the same one you’d crossed a hundred times before, but today it feels different, charged. you sit on the bench, her close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off her shoulder.

she kicks at the grass with the toe of her shoe, not quite looking at you. “hey, can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

“back when you were… coaching me.” her lips twitch, like she’s half embarrassed to even say it. “you walked me through all those steps. confidence, honesty, vulnerability…” she trails off, chewing her lip. “but you never said what the last one was. the final step.”

you answer almost without thinking. “confession,” you tell her. “it’s confession.” the word leaves your mouth softer than you expect, like it’s heavier than it should be.

she goes still beside you. the faint sounds of the park — someone laughing in the distance, the rustle of leaves in the breeze — feel miles away compared to the quiet between the two of you.

“confession,” she repeats, like she’s testing how it feels on her tongue. “that’s what i thought.”

you shift on the bench, suddenly aware of how close your knees are to hers. your pulse is thrumming in your throat. “yeah. it’s… it’s the hardest step.”

megan looks at you then, really looks, and it’s so raw you almost flinch. her voice comes low, steady but shaking at the edges. “then i guess it’s my turn.”

you freeze. your hands tighten in your lap. “what do you mean—”

“i mean…” she lets out a breath like she’s been holding it for weeks. “i like you. not eunchae. not anyone else. you. it’s been you the whole time, and i just—” she breaks off, shoving her hand through her hair, the pink streak catching the dim light. “i can’t keep pretending it’s not.”

the air feels thinner, like there’s not enough oxygen for your lungs. you stare at her, every muscle in your body tense, but your brain won’t catch up.

“megan…” your voice cracks, and you hate it, hate how weak it sounds.

she keeps going anyway, rushing now, afraid you’ll cut her off. “i thought maybe it was just because you were helping me, you know? like, practice stuff, all these steps, the way you’re always so patient with me. i thought i was just clinging. but it’s not just that. it’s—” her breath hitches. “it’s the way i can’t stop wanting to tell you things. the way i look for you when i walk into a room. the way my chest—” she presses her fist against it, helpless — “feels like it’s gonna burst if you smile at me for more than five seconds.”

your throat is dry, your nails digging crescents into your palms. you want to tell her to stop, you want her to keep going forever.

“megan, you don’t—”

“i do,” she cuts in, sharp but not unkind. “i do. i like you, yn. i like you so much it’s scaring the hell out of me.”

her words hit you like stones skipping over a lake, ripples spreading through every nerve in your body. you think about nj, about that night you followed them on their date like an idiot, boba cup sweating in your hand. the twist in your stomach when megan laughed at something nj said. the ache you told yourself was nothing.

you want to tell her she’s wrong, that she’s confused, that it’s just because you’ve been spending so much time together. but your chest betrays you, too tight, too warm, too desperate.

she leans forward slightly, voice barely above a whisper now. “say something. please.”

your silence stretches. her face crumples just slightly, like she’s bracing herself for rejection, like she already regrets letting it out.

your silence stretches too long, heavy enough that megan’s eyes flick down, like she can’t hold your gaze anymore. her shoulders hunch the slightest bit, and you can see it — the exact moment she starts preparing herself for you to push her away.

and something in you just breaks.

you don’t think. you don’t plan. you just reach out, fingers curling in the fabric of her sleeve, tugging her toward you before your brain can scream about consequences.

the kiss collides, awkward at first — too sudden, too desperate — but it’s warm. grounding. her breath hitches against your mouth, a startled sound that turns into the softest hum as she leans into you.

it’s not fireworks. it’s not an explosion. it’s something deeper, slower, like finally letting go of a breath you’ve been holding since forever.

her hand comes up, tentative, brushing your jaw like she’s afraid you’ll vanish if she touches you too hard.

your fingers are trembling when you tug her closer, so much that you half-expect her to laugh, but she doesn’t. she stumbles forward, eyes wide, and then her lips brush yours. it’s clumsy, half an accident, half a prayer, but your whole body feels like it’s been shocked awake.

she tastes faintly of peach boba and mint gum, sweet and sharp all at once. her breath shudders against your mouth, warm and uneven, and you feel the corner of her lips curl like she almost smiled mid-kiss.

her hand hovers, unsure, before settling lightly against your jaw. she’s so careful it nearly undoes you — like she’s terrified you’ll pull away, even though you’re the one who started this. your heartbeat slams against your ribs, every nerve screaming don’t let go.

you lean in again, slower this time, less panic and more ache. your noses bump clumsily, her hair tickling your cheek, but you don’t care. her lips are soft, pliant, and when she sighs into you it feels like she’s exhaling straight into your bones.

your other hand fists in her sleeve like you’re drowning, and she inches closer, closing the sliver of space between you until you’re chest-to-chest. her warmth seeps through your shirt, grounding, dizzying, like you’ve been cold for years and only just remembered what heat feels like.

when you finally break apart, the air feels too thin. she stays close, her forehead resting against yours, her breath shaky but steadying. her lashes flutter, and you catch the faint scatter of freckles across her nose, the way her pink streak has slipped loose and tickles her cheek.

you’re breathing too hard, every inhale catching on the lump in your throat. “i—fuck,” you choke out, words tangled and messy, “i like you too. i’ve been trying so hard not to, but i do. i really do.”

she blinks, eyes glossy in the low light, mouth parted like she’s afraid to believe it. “you—wait. you mean that? you’re not just—this isn’t part of the practice?”

you huff out a weak, breathless laugh, still clinging to her sleeve. “do you think i’d kiss you for practice?”

that pulls a laugh out of her, raw and broken, and it vibrates against your skin where her forehead presses to yours. her hand shifts from your jaw to cup your cheek fully now, thumb stroking like she’s memorizing the shape of you.

you close your eyes and let yourself lean into it, the warmth of her palm, the salt-sweet taste still on your lips, the way your laughter keeps breaking through the tension like it doesn’t know where else to go.

it’s not a perfect kiss, not the kind in movies. it’s better. it’s messy and grounding and filled with everything you’ve been swallowing down for weeks.

and when you open your eyes again, she’s still there. still looking at you like you’re not a disaster. like maybe she’s been waiting for this too.

—

your fingers don’t let go of hers even after the kiss ends. it’s stupid, really — your palms are clammy, you’re hyperaware of every brush of her thumb against yours, and yet you can’t bring yourself to pull away. the night air is cool, brushing over your skin, but the warmth of her hand is enough to ground you.

you both walk in silence at first, footsteps syncopating against the pavement. you try not to trip on your own heartbeat, but your brain is too loud — replaying her laugh, her lips, the way she touched your cheek so gently you almost crumbled.

she squeezes your hand once, tentative, like she’s asking if this is still okay. and you squeeze back, a quiet yes you don’t trust your voice to carry.

by the time you reach your dorm, your stomach is in knots. you’re not ready to let go, not ready to walk into the real world where people might notice. except, of course, the universe doesn’t give you that choice.

because when you push open the door, sophia’s there on her bed with a face mask on, scrolling her phone, and lara’s sprawled in your desk chair, chewing on a pack of pocky like she owns the place.

both their heads snap up at the same time. their eyes drop straight to your intertwined hands.

“ohhh,” lara drags out, grinning so wide it’s borderline feral. “would you look at that.”

sophia’s jaw drops, her mask crinkling. “no. no way. i’m hallucinating.” she sits up so fast the sheet mask almost slips off. “you two—” she points between you and megan like she’s conducting an orchestra. “holding hands. in public. oh my god.”

your face heats instantly. “it’s—it’s not—”

“it’s not what?” lara cuts in, leaning forward with a wolfish grin. “not you two finally stopping the whole will-they-won’t-they? because i’ve been suffering through this slow burn for weeks.”

megan, instead of defending you, has the audacity to snort. “slow burn? really? you make it sound like we’re in some kind of tumblr fanfic.”

“babe,” lara says, popping the pocky stick out of her mouth with a snap, “you literally are.”

sophia claps her hands together like she’s officiating a wedding. “this is historic. monumental. i’m writing it down in my planner.” she digs through her endless purse, pulling out a pen and a tiny notebook like she’s dead serious.

“sophia, don’t you dare,” you groan, trying to untangle your hand from megan’s. but megan holds on, her grip tightening just a little, smug smile playing on her lips like she’s enjoying this too much.

“oh, no, no, no,” sophia teases, scribbling furiously. “the official date of yn and megan finally holding hands: today. what’s the time? 9:47? yeah, i’m putting it down.”

“you guys are impossible,” you mutter, sinking into the nearest chair and covering your face with your free hand. megan sits next to you, still holding tight, and leans back casually like she’s completely unbothered.

“i think it’s cute,” she says, eyes sparkling. “they’re just happy for us.”

“us?” lara repeats, pouncing on the word. “ohhh, did she just say us? like plural, like a couple, like dating?” she’s practically vibrating, her grin wide enough to split her face.

you peek at megan through your fingers. she just shrugs, cheeks a little pink but smile unwavering. “maybe i did.”

sophia squeals so loud you’re pretty sure the RA heard.

—

you don’t notice her at first.

it’s just another late morning in the cafeteria, the kind where the fluorescent lights feel a little too bright and the smell of burnt coffee clings to your clothes. you’re at your usual spot by the window, megan pressed up against your side like she’s made a permanent home there. she’s picking the raisins out of her cinnamon bagel and dumping them onto your plate without asking, and you let her, because secretly you don’t mind.

lara’s across from you, elbows on the table, mid-rant about her econ professor being “a capitalist devil who hates joy.” sophia’s next to her, sipping from a water bottle so huge it could double as a weapon, nodding along with patient mom energy.

it’s normal. warm. a rhythm you’ve slipped into so easily you don’t even realize how much you missed it until you had it.

then, a ripple.

megan stiffens first. her hand freezes halfway to her mouth, bagel forgotten. lara’s eyes narrow, sharp like she’s spotted prey. sophia’s lips purse, her straw bending as she stops mid-sip.

you follow their gaze, slow, reluctant.

and there she is.

danielle.

her hair’s shorter than you remember, blunt cut brushing her jaw. she’s got a new girl with her — tall, effortlessly stylish, the kind of person who looks like she walked out of a magazine spread. they’re holding hands, laughing at something you can’t hear. danielle looks… different. softer in some ways. but when her eyes skim the room and land on you, that softness vanishes.

the glance she gives isn’t sarcastic, isn’t smug. it’s worse. it’s that quick, dismissive look people use when they see something they’d rather not acknowledge. like you’re inconvenient. like you’re a reminder of something she’d prefer stayed buried.

you feel it in your chest, sharp and small.

megan notices instantly. her hand finds yours under the table, squeezes. not asking, not pushing — just there. solid. grounding.

lara lets out a low whistle. “well, well, well. if it isn’t the ex who called you a heartless bitch.” her tone drips acid.

sophia kicks her under the table. “lara.”

“what?” lara snaps, not taking her eyes off danielle. “she deserves to be reminded. yn’s not a robot, she’s—”

“lara.” sophia’s voice is sharper this time, rare enough that it makes lara pause. “don’t. not here.”

but the damage is done — megan bristles, eyes flicking between you and danielle like she’s calculating. you squeeze her hand back before she can do something reckless.

“it’s fine,” you say, quieter than you mean to. “really. it doesn’t matter.”

lara’s eyes flash, but she swallows whatever comeback she has. sophia watches you carefully, like she’s trying to gauge if you believe your own words.

megan, though. megan doesn’t buy it for a second.

she leans closer, voice low, only for you. “hey. look at me.”

you do. reluctantly.

“you’re not what she said you were,” she says, steady, no room for argument. “you’re the opposite. you feel so much it scares you. and that’s… that’s why i—” she cuts herself off, cheeks pink, but her grip on your hand tightens.

the air between you is warm. heavier than the glance danielle threw, heavier than the ache in your chest.

danielle walks past your table without stopping. the new girl laughs again, something light and easy, and danielle looks at her with an expression you don’t recognize. softer. gentler. not the girl you used to know.

you watch them go, and for the first time, you don’t feel the urge to follow.

lara snorts. “good riddance.”

sophia sighs, but she doesn’t disagree.

megan, though. she’s still watching you, not danielle. always you.

“you okay?” she asks softly.

you nod. and this time, you almost believe it.

the day rolls on like nothing happened, but the four of you stick closer than usual. lara cracks jokes too loud in lecture, sophia bribes you with snacks during study group, megan sneaks doodles into the margins of your notes — little pink hearts that make you want to roll your eyes and kiss her at the same time.

by evening, the weight of danielle’s glance has dulled. not gone, but dulled. like a bruise that won’t last.

when you and megan walk back to the dorm together, her fingers laced through yours, she bumps your shoulder and says, casual, “you know, step six-point-five was way more fun than any of the others.”

you laugh, surprised. “the practice date?”

she nods, grinning. “i think we should keep practicing. like… forever.”

your heart stutters, messy and loud. you want to tell her you’re scared, that you don’t know how to do this right, that danielle’s words still echo sometimes when it’s quiet. but instead, you squeeze her hand and whisper, “yeah. me too.”

and for the first time in a long time, you realize you don’t care who’s watching.

----------------------------- 🤎 ----------------------------

there is not a single metaphor that could ever capture the way her presence lights up a room, or the way her smile—bright and contagious—makes your heart do flips. she’s beyond comparison, beyond words. you’ve known her since middle school, and in all that time despite barely having time with her, the feeling has only grown. she’s the type of person that’s just barely out of reach, so you’ve learned to cope with it.

which is exactly why, when your teacher had pulled you two aside after class, announcing that you’d be paired with her for your volunteer hours at the local elementary school, your stomach practically dropped to your shoes. she’s the type of person that’s just barely out of reach, so you’ve learned to cope with it. but now? she’s just within reach. 

“some others filled out the form, but i only needed the two of you since it’s for a smaller group.” mr. jeong explained. “and you two are the perfect candidates. thank you for your interest in this, my wife is really glad that we’re able to send the two of you over to help out—she works at the school.”

you clutch the strap of your bag a little tighter, trying to stay visibly and mentally composed. danielle is beside you smiling at your physics teacher, and then you catch her smiling at you from the corner of your eye. turning a bit, you shoot a small grin, then excuse yourself out.

just your luck, but maybe you’ll survive. this could turn out great for you!

as you walk down the hall, you feel someone tap on your shoulder. turning around, it’s her. 

danielle is behind you smiling. “see you monday!” she says with that honeyed voice of hers.

knowing yourself, maybe it won’t turn out so great. you might be doomed considering how much of a loser you are compared to miss sunshine.

—

you arrive at the elementary school the following monday, heart pounding as you push open the heavy doors to the small classroom where the after-school program is being held. a group of kids are already gathered, some working on crafts, others running around, their laughter filling the air. but none of it matters because standing near the teacher's desk, helping a kid tie their shoe, is danielle.

she looks up just as you step in, her eyes lighting up with recognition. "hey! looks like we’re partners in crime for the next few weeks," she says with a smile so genuine it makes you dizzy. “i’m glad you’re here.”

you force a grin, trying to play it cool. "yeah. um, and likewise.”

the teacher quickly assigns you both to work with a small group of students on some arts and crafts. you watch as danielle sits down with the kids, her voice soft and encouraging as she helps them cut out construction paper shapes. you, meanwhile, sit on the opposite side of the table, trying not to focus too much on the fact that you're mere feet away from the girl who’s had your heart for as long as you can remember.

as the session goes on, you find yourself slowly relaxing. the kids are lively and fun, and danielle's easygoing nature makes everything feel less intimidating (though the only thing that really made everything seem like that was her). she’s chatting with the students, laughing when they show her their goofy creations, and every now and then, she glances your way, offering you a smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

"how are you so good with them?" you ask her while cleaning up the table, genuinely curious.

danielle shrugs, her eyes twinkling. "i don’t know, i’m just fond of kids. they’re honest, you know? and they don’t care if you mess up or say the wrong thing."

you smiled, nodding, but her words hit closer to home than she realized. if only you could believe that—if only you could let yourself stop overthinking everything when it came to her.

“like you could ever do that,” you mutter under your breath. danielle catches it, but doesn’t comment on it. “i guess you’re right. i didn’t think of it that way.” you say at a normal volume, and danielle doesn’t have a hard time catching that.

as the afternoon starts to wind down, one of the kids tugs on your sleeve, showing you his glitter-covered drawing of what appears to be a dinosaur. "do you like it?" he ask, his eyes wide with anticipation.

you glance at danielle, who’s watching you with a curious expression, and suddenly, it feels like this moment matters more than anything. you take the drawing, smile at the kid, and say, "i think it’s awesome."

out of the corner of your eye, you catch danielle beaming at you, and for a second, it feels like maybe—just maybe—this whole thing won’t be as hard as you thought.

–

as the kids rushed out of the room, their laughter echoing down the hallways, you found yourself lingering behind, picking up scraps of paper and wiping glitter off the tables. danielle was still there too, helping the teacher gather leftover supplies. the room felt quieter now, just the two of you in the aftermath of the chaos, and for a moment, you both moved in comfortable silence, the air between you lighter than it had been earlier.

"it’s been a while, huh?" danielle said softly, her voice breaking the quiet as she stacked a few cups of markers on the shelf. you glanced over at her, heart suddenly racing again, because it was true—you hadn’t really spoken to her much since middle school, despite always being around. besides, she had been taking different courses than you, so there weren’t many shared classes. even if their were, you two had your respective groups, and danielle was quite popular compared to you, so you stayed out the picture while admiring from afar.

"yeah," you nodded, tossing some crumpled-up paper into the trash bin, smiling when you make it. "guess we’ve both been pretty busy."

she smiled, that same soft, almost shy smile that always made your chest tighten. "swim has been taking up your time, huh?”

“oh, yeah, haha.”

“i’ve seen you around at your practices, you’re really good!”

“y-you have?” your eyes widen with surprise, gaze staying on her as she throws something away. 

“my friend hyein is on the team, you know her?”

“ah,” the underclassmen that tried to drown you (in a playful way, because that’s playful to hyein. allegedly so). “yeah.” you giggle thinking about your swimmate. “she’s very… fun.”

“she’s always up to something.” danielle giggles.

quiet fills the air as you two continue cleaning. danielle is stacking chairs, and you’re lifting each stack over to the edge of the classroom. neither of you say anything for a while, mindful of the other in a semi-awkward silence as you help the janitors out. 

danielle breaks the silence again.

“i didn’t realize how much i missed seeing you around until today," she admits, her words gentle but carrying more weight than you expected. she’s looking at you, standing maybe ten tiles away and her eyes are stuck on yours. you feel like you’re being mushed into the ground.

you blinked, caught off guard by her honesty, and suddenly, you weren’t sure how to respond. so you just smiled back, hoping it didn’t look too awkward. "yeah… same here, actually."

the silence stretched once again as you both continued cleaning up, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. it felt like something was shifting between you two, the years of distance slowly fading away, replaced by an old familiarity that had never really gone away.

once most of the mess was cleaned up, you found yourselves standing near the door, neither of you in any real hurry to leave. danielle looked down at her phone for a moment, then back up at you. "hey, do you drive?" she asked, her voice a little hesitant.

you nodded. "yeah, i do. why?"

"i was thinking... we should probably carpool for this," she said, motioning to the classroom. "since we’re both gonna be volunteering here for the next few weeks, might as well make it easier on ourselves, right?"

the idea of seeing her more often, spending more time together, made your heart skip a beat. "yeah, that sounds like a good plan," you agreed, trying to sound casual. "i can pick you up if you want?"

her eyes brightened at that, and for a moment, you could swear there was a bit of relief in her expression. "that’d be great."

you pulled out your phone, opening up your contacts, and as you handed it over to her, your fingers brushed hers. it was a small, brief touch, but goosebumps were poking at the inside of your shirt after. even the hairs on your arm started to stand noticeably. danielle didn’t seem to notice—or maybe she did—but either way, she calmly typed in her number and handed the phone back to you with a smile.

"there," she said, her voice light. "now you have no excuse not to keep in touch."

you laughed, feeling your heart swell. "no excuses," you promised, and as you both left the classroom together, you couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted between you two—the connection that had always been there but was finally starting to come into focus.

—

swim practice took up most of your days, which you didn’t mind. most of your friends were on the team anyway, so it just gave you an excuse to hang out when you weren’t practicing for your respective races.

it always went like this: ten minutes of warmups—light stretches and a couple of easy laps to get your muscles moving. then came fifteen minutes of drills, laps back and forth with barely any rest in between, focusing on your form, speed, and turns. the coach would shout instructions from the edge of the pool, calling out corrections or praise when you hit the perfect stroke. after that, you’d usually break into smaller groups, each focusing on different parts of the race. whether it was freestyle, butterfly, or backstroke, you’d put everything into perfecting your technique—freestyle was your forte—until your muscles burned and your lungs screamed for air.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, practice would wrap up with a cooldown: slow laps, easy strokes, and a few more stretches. additionally, there would be playful banter, and hyein would always find a way to bother you since she was also focused on freestyle. you two were inevitably always together, she was like the younger relative that would pester you any chance you got. 

your body always felt heavy afterward, but in a good way. exhausted and accomplished.

you were dripping wet as you pulled yourself out of the pool, every step feeling heavier than the last. practice might’ve ended, but the exhaustion clung to you as you made your way to the locker room, the sound of splashing water and your teammates’ chatter filling the space around you.

you changed quickly, glad to get out of your damp swimsuit, and ran a towel through your hair as best you could. it was still dripping slightly when you finally stepped out of the locker room, feeling refreshed but undeniably drained.

and then you saw her.

danielle stood just outside the entrance, her presence so unexpected that you almost stumbled in surprise. you should be used to this, maybe, considering you saw her yesterday. your heart jumped to your throat, tiredness vanishing in an instant. she was leaning casually against the wall, scrolling through her phone, but when she noticed you, her eyes lit up, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"hey!" she called out, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. "fancy seeing you here." she says sarcastically.

your heart was pounding, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your hair was probably sticking out at odd angles, still damp and messy. "h-hi," you stammered, mentally kicking yourself for sounding so awkward. "what—what are you doing here?"

danielle tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking a little sheepish. "i’m actually waiting for hyein.." she glanced away, then back at you with a small, hesitant smile. "but, um, i wanted to see you too. just to say hi."

your heart practically stopped at that. she wanted to see you. you felt your cheeks start to burn, or maybe they were always a little warm, you took a hot shower earlier and that would make a lot of sense, but also danielle is—

you scramble to find something—anything—to say that wouldn’t make you seem like a complete idiot. "oh, uh, really? that’s… nice. i mean, it’s great. i—it’s good to see you, too. again. we saw each other yesterday."

“why yes, we did.” danielle laughed softly, her eyes crinkling in that way that always made your stomach flip. "you’re cute— and funny."

you blinked, completely caught off guard. your brain was short-circuiting. did she really just say that? were you more cute or funny? was the cute just thrown in there? you think for a bit, you make people laugh easily and— you need to stop thinking.

"oh, um, thank you? you too." you respond. she laughs again, shaking her head.

"i’m just teasing," she said, though there was something almost… nervous in her gaze as she looked at you. like she wasn’t sure if she’d overstepped. "but really, it’s nice running into you like this. you look different to how you did yesterday." 

you glanced down at yourself, still dressed in loose sweats and hoodie, hair a mess. "different good or…?"

"definitely good," she confirmed, her smile widening. "you look… relaxed. it suits you."

relaxed, right. you can’t help but chuckle.

before you could come up with a response that didn’t sound completely ridiculous, someone called your name. you turned to see wonbin waving at you from the other end of the hall where the boys locker room is, sohee trailing behind him. it "hey! you done?" he asked, his voice carrying over the distance.

you blinked, glancing back at danielle, and she gave you a small, understanding nod. "you should go," she murmured softly. "don’t want to keep your friends waiting."

"yeah, um, i guess i’ll see you next week" you hate how reluctant you sound.

danielle’s smile softened, something almost wistful in her eyes. "yeah, can’t wait to get glitter all over my hands again." she says jokingly. she waved as you turn to join wonbin and sohee, her gaze lingering on you a moment longer. "bye, y/n!"

"bye," you called back, lifting a hand in a half-wave.

you turned away, walking towards your friends, but couldn’t resist glancing over your shoulder one last time. danielle was still standing there, watching you leave, and when she caught you looking, she flashed you another quick grin, eyes crinkling and teeth showing. your heart did a flip against your chest.

wonbin nudged your shoulder as you reached them, smirking knowingly. "danielle marsh?" he questioned as if it weren’t the obvious, drawing her name out teasingly. "what’s up with that?"

"nothing is up. get your head out the gutter," you muttered, shoving him lightly, but you couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at your lips. "we were just talking."

sohee snorted. "right. just talking. sure."

“we literally had a brief conversation, i hope you guys inhale water.”

they both laughed as you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest. even as you headed out with them, thoughts of buying a sandwich swirling around, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and danielle—that maybe, just maybe, your friendship was returning with ease.

—

the next week you’re with danielle again. this time she’s heading towards your car, getting in your car, sitting in the passengers seat in your car, and clicking her seatbelt in next to you.

“hey.” she greets, smiling.

“hi.” you respond nervously. you check the time, you’re very early but you’re not sure if you can even drive properly with the prettiest girl in the school next to you. “ready to go?”

“yup!”

“okay!” you respond with the same energy, making her giggle. you just made danielle marsh giggle. 

accompanied by you is the sound of music playing in the middle of the silence—a little too loudly—before you glance at her nervously. you apologize, but she shakes her head in your peripheral, putting her hand on the side of your upper arm as she does so. you clench your jaw, forcing a smile as you turn the corner.

she puts a hand over her stomach. “hey, can we stop by and grab a snack? there’s a little convenience store on the way there i always pass by.”

“yeah, of course.” 

you pull into the small convenience store’s parking lot, your heart still racing from the brief moment earlier when danielle had laughed at your overly energetic response. you had to focus on driving, but her presence beside you was making it impossible to think straight.

(you’re not that good at doing anything… straight….)

“i’ll be quick,” she says with a smile, unbuckling her seatbelt and stepping out of the car.

“who said i’m not coming with?” you reply, “i’m not just gonna let you in by yourself.”

“wow,” she smirks, “what a gentle-lady.”

you follow her inside, letting her lead the way. it’s a cozy little store, shelves stocked with snacks, drinks, and everything in between. danielle heads straight to the snacks aisle while you find yourself wandering toward the drinks, hoping to calm your nerves. you scan the selection, pretending to be interested in a row of teas when you feel a sudden gaze on you.

turning slightly, you catch danielle staring at you from across the aisle. her eyes are soft, almost thoughtful, as if she’s studying every little movement you make. your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you freeze, unsure of what to do with yourself.

“uh—” you clear your throat, lifting a tea bottle. “this one any good?”

danielle blinks, snapping out of her thoughts, a shy smile spreading across her face. “oh, yeah! it’s really good. you should try it.”

you nod, trying to play it cool as you glance at the label, but you can still feel her gaze lingering on you. there’s something electric in the air between you two—unspoken, but undeniably there—something that wasn’t there before. 

—

the second time you and danielle help out at the elementary school, the day is warmer, and the kids are outside, running around with boundless energy. you’re supervising the chaos, but also playing along with the kids—throwing a frisbee, helping them climb the jungle gym, and laughing as they chase after you.

danielle stands nearby, watching with an amused smile. it’s been a short amount of time since the last time you volunteered together, and she realizes how much she’s missed your presence. she’s always known you were sweet, but seeing you like this—so good with the kids, laughing and having fun, so personally and naturally—makes something inside her chest tighten.

it had been a while since she’d last seen you, not including the first volunteer hours, but just in general since middle school. sure, you had that one class freshman year, and gym during sophomore year, but that wasn’t really much.

between your current classes and different social circles, the chances to bump into you had become rare. but the moment you stepped into the classroom that day, something in her stirred. she couldn’t help but notice how much you’d changed since the last time she saw you. she was able to observe you fully: taller, more confident, but still with that same sweetness in your eyes that had made her stomach flutter before the transition into high school. additionally, you looked good—better than she remembered—and that realization had her heart skipping a beat.

she tries to focus on her own task, playing hopscotch with a few of the younger kids, but her eyes keep drifting back to you. you’re crouching down to tie a little girl’s shoelaces, smiling up at her in that easy, charming way you do. danielle’s heart races as she thinks about how effortlessly kind you are, how even the small things you do make her feel warm inside.

as you finish helping the girl, you catch danielle’s gaze—not for the first time that day. your eyes meet, and for a split second, neither of you looks away. she quickly glances down, a soft blush creeping up her cheeks. she can’t help but think how much you’ve changed since middle school—how you’ve grown into someone who’s not just good-looking but incredibly thoughtful, too.

you jog over to where she’s standing, slightly out of breath but grinning. “having fun?”

“yeah,” she replies, her voice a little softer than usual. “you seem like you’re having fun, too.”

“can’t help it,” you shrug, glancing at the kids. “they’re pretty contagious.”

danielle laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. the way you talk to her, so casually and effortlessly, makes her more nervous than she should be. you’ve always been easy to talk to, but now it feels different—like there’s something more beneath the surface.

as the afternoon goes on, the kids' energy only seems to increase. you end up sitting on the grass, surrounded by a group of them, laughing as one of the younger boys insists on “fixing” your hair. his tiny fingers tug gently at the strands, doing his best to style it into something creative—mostly a messy combination of pigtails. you wince occasionally, but you let him continue, his determination too adorable to resist. 

danielle watches from a few feet away, trying not to laugh too obviously. she’s been watching you all day, and she can’t help but feel charmed by how good-natured you are, even in moments like this. there’s something so endearing about the way you don’t take yourself too seriously, how you just go with the flow and let these kids have fun with you. she can’t help but sneak a picture, for… the memories of course.

“you look… really good,” she says, teasingly, as she approaches. 

you glance up, one eyebrow raised, trying to look at your reflection in the window nearby. “oh yeah? should i make this my new look?”

danielle grins, sitting down beside you. “i think it could be a trend. maybe you’ll make it on the cover of vogue.”

“right, 'styled by six-year-olds' is definitely going to get me scouted. maybe i’ll even be dressed head to toe in like… i don’t know— celine or something luxury.” you chuckle, letting the boy keep working on your hair. "i’ll give you credit for the idea when i get famous.”

danielle laughs, the sound light and soft, and her heart beats dangerously hard. you’re never trying too hard yet still manage to make people feel good just by being yourself. it’s been like this since middle school, but now, it feels more intense, like every small interaction with you is enough to make her stomach twist in turn—in the good way of course. 

“do you ever get tired of being everyone’s favorite?” she asks, playfully nudging you with her shoulder.

you blink, looking genuinely confused. “me? everyone’s favorite? what are you talking about?”

“you,” danielle says, smiling. “you’re so… easy to like. look at these kids—they’re obsessed with you. i don’t think i’ve ever seen someone win over a bunch of first-graders that fast.”

you shrug, looking a little bashful. “they’re fun and young, that’s all.”

the kid working on your hair finishes and steps back to admire his masterpiece. “done!” he announces proudly.

danielle bursts into laughter when she sees the final result—your hair is sticking out in all directions, a combination of tiny pigtails and knots. you make a dramatic face, pulling a mock-serious expression. “so… how do i look?”

“like a work of art,” she teases, leaning closer to inspect the chaos. “mona lisa is jealous.”

you can’t help but laugh along with her, feeling the warmth of the moment. even though you’re clueless about how much she’s been thinking about you, about how every little thing you do makes her heart skip, the playful energy between you two is unmistakable. there’s something so natural about being with her like this, so comfortable. it feels right, just like how it was back then.

as the kids run off back toward the adults, you and danielle stay sitting side by side in the grass, the conversation flowing easily as she fixes your hair. it’s like no time has passed since middle school, but at the same time, there’s a new layer to your dynamic.

“you know, i always liked you a lot in middle school.” danielle says suddenly, accidentally pulling out a strand of your hair with the hairtie. you wince, but not at the feeling of your hair being pulled out. “sorry about that.”

“you liked me?”

“i mean, who wouldn’t?” danielle shrugs. “everyone wanted to be your friend, of course i wanted to be yours too!”

that kind of ‘like’---the platonic kind.

“oh,” you mumble, “right, thanks. i liked you a lot too, um, like, you know, as a friend.” you’re lying right in front of her face, well, kind of. 

you thought she was just someone sweet and gorgeous, a great friend for maybe two weeks max. she started getting more touchy and affectionate, throwing compliments and making your cheeks flush a little too much. all of it confused you at the ripe age of thirteen, and then the points connected: you had a crush on her.

the moment you realized you liked her was burned into your memory, a core memory that never left. it wasn’t some grand gesture, not some dramatic revelation. it was just the two of you, sitting under the sun after finishing fitness exams early, finding a quiet spot in the grass to relax. you remember her finding a tiny flower in the grass, something you hadn’t even noticed, and without hesitation, she tucked it behind your ear, smiling as she called you wonderful and sweet, like it was the easiest thing in the world—like it was true.

her eyes had lit up, like you were something to be admired, like you were a constellation that she’d stumbled upon. your heart raced in that moment, faster than it ever had during any of the laps you’d run earlier. she just smiled at you, oblivious to the storm she’d created inside of you, and that’s when it hit you: nothing was going to be the same again.

from that day on, thirteen-year-old you couldn’t stop crushing on danielle marsh. it became a constant, something that wove itself into your everyday life, even when you barely saw her. every stolen glance, every random smile she threw your way, things you were sure meant nothing to her, but they were everything to you.

years passed, and even though you both grew older, matured in so many ways, the feelings stayed the same. maybe you were still young, still figuring out your place in the world, but one thing you knew for sure—you were undeniably, hopelessly in love with danielle marsh, and you always would be as long as she existed anywhere near you.

“i know it’s a little late, but i hope we can be friends like that again.” danielle admits, breaking you out of your memory. “i can’t help being so enamored by the person you are now.”

“woah.” you accidentally say, turning away from her and laughing. “sorry, i just— that was really sweet it um, caught me off guard. thank you danielle.”

“you can call me dani, just like you used to.”

“okay.”

her eyes narrow just a bit as her head tilts. she’s hugging her knees to her chest and staring at you while the sun starts to shine golden rays. you blink a few times, tilting your head the same way, and then she smiles again out of nowhere.

“seems like they’re ready to clean up. we should help.”

“for sure.” you say quietly, not budging. “i’ll go when you go.”

danielle giggles, “alright.”

—

after your second day at the elementary school, you and danielle somehow ended up walking to class together. it wasn’t planned, not exactly, but after bumping into each other the next morning, the conversation flowed so naturally that it just made sense to keep talking as you both headed in the same direction. 

danielle walked beside you, glancing at you every now and then as you talked about anything and everything—how tiring the kids could be, your classes, random stuff like favorite snacks or the latest movie you wanted to see. you two were passing time, walking in loops around the first floor of the school since the bell would ring in fifteen minutes. every time you said something that made her laugh, her eyes sparkled just a little more, and it wasn’t lost on you how easy it felt to be around her. 

eventually, you reached her class as your time together shortened. you stopped and turned to face her, giving a small wave. “i’ll see you around?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips. 

“yeah, definitely,” she said, her cheeks flushing the slightest bit. she gave a little wave back, her smile soft and warm. “thanks for walking with me.”

“no problem,” you said, trying to play it cool despite how fast your heart was racing. you turned, heading off to your own class, but you couldn’t help glancing back once, catching her still watching you. 

what you didn’t see was danielle running into minji and hanni a few minutes later. the two of them were standing near the classroom and got there a few seconds after danielle, noticing immediately how flustered she seemed as they approached her at her desk.

“was that y/n you just waved goodbye to?” minji asked, her eyebrow raised. 

“yeah, we’ve been, uh, talking again. like friends! of course…” danielle said, her voice soft, a blush creeping up her neck as she tried to hide her smile.

hanni grinned, catching on instantly. “getting close again, huh?” she teased, nudging danielle’s arm playfully. 

danielle’s cheeks turned a little more pink, and she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. “something like that,”

minji smirked. “you look way too happy about it.”

danielle looked down, biting her lip to stop from grinning. “it’s nothing,” she muttered, but even she couldn’t believe her own words.

because, really, it felt like everything.

—

later that day you head toward the locker room after a tiring swim practice. sohee is teasing you for messing up during a lap, and hyein continues to add on. you manage to shake sohee off after splitting ways, but hyein is still poking at you.

you shower quickly, dry yourself, and change into your usual hoodie and sweats before waving to your teammates who aren’t done packing up.

once you open the door, you immediately catch danielle leaning against the wall. she looks up as soon as you step out, her features lighting up.

“hey!” she greets.

“hi.” you respond as you walk up to her. “waiting for hyein?”

“um, yeah.” danielle is lying again, this can’t be a good habit. maybe it lying isn’t so bad if it’s to see someone as wonderful as you, danielle thinks. “how was practice?”

“i was kinda slow today, but it was fun.” you sigh, “how has your day been?”

“tiring as well,” she huffs. “but i’m really caught up with schoolwork and the student council meeting was really short.”

“that’s lovely.” you catch sohee and wonbin in the corner of your eye and purse your lips. “those idiots,” your eyes turn towards them and danielle briefly glances at the idiots in question, “are hungry. they’re like vacuums… i swear.”

“i understand, my friends are like that too.” danielle snickers, directing her attention back to you. “hey, i was also wondering if you’d um, like to walk together in the morning? like we can walk or you can eat breakfast. it doesn’t matter. i’m just saying i’d like to be with you tomorrow morning.”

you freeze, parting your mouth to say something, but everything is caught up in your throat.

your brain stops functioning for a moment as you try to process quite literally everything. you manage to respond a few seconds later, “yes!” the eagerness makes you cringe, you cough. “yes, i mean. i’d also like to be with you! u-uhm, in the morning, obviously. yeah. we can do whatever you’d like, just say the words and i’m uh, i’m down.”

her lips turn up and you swear the universe just slapped you in the face. “great,” she says, “i’ll see you tomorrow. you should go feed your friends.”

“yeah, they… eat—a lot. sorry, yeah, i’ll get going. see you!”

“see you y/n!” she waves, and you wave back, walking towards two idiots trying to hold laughter and snarky remarks.

—

you’re helping out the kids as they all tend to their artwork. this time everyone has watercolor, which is a little less messy than your first rodeo at the school. you sit at the table with five children, all of them eager to earn criticism and compliments from their work.

“y/n! y/n! how do you like mine? it’s good right? do you like it?” one girl says, holding up the paper to your face with her little hands.

you chuckle, moving back a bit to get a better view of the work. it’s (what you assume) a scene from the country side; different shades of green line the bottom of the page to imitate grass, and there are different colored flowers peeking out getting shined on by the sun from above.

“it’s gorgeous annie.” you assure, “but i think those flowers are a little lonely without bees.”

the girl brings her paper back and turns it around to inspect. she squints her eyes, biting her lip before nearly slamming it on the ground and beginning to color again. “you’re right! i should’ve done that… also piggies and cows and… the flowers need friends.”

“you’re very creative, i love it!” you beam, patting her shoulder. she turns and smiles at you.

danielle’s palm holds her chin as she watches the interaction from a table away, grinning without knowing. her smile only grows when you give suggestions to another kid, and then she’s breaking away after a child tugs at her hair subtly.

“miss danielle, why are you staring at y/n so much?” the boy asks shyly. 

“o-oh.” danielle’s cheeks start to tingle with heat. “sorry, did you want me to check your work out?”

“why are you staring at y/n?” he asks again, tilting his head at her. 

“it’s nothing, really. i was just um… daydreaming.”

“about y/n?” kids are getting clever these days, though thankfully they lack the snarkiness. “is that why you’re staring at her?”

“um, no.” um, yes. danielle is lying to a child. “i just, she’s– she happens to be in my vision. um, let’s see your artwork!”

the kid shrugs, pushing the paper over to danielle who is in awe of how well done it is. this kid isn’t just smart, he’s remarkably talented too. 

now it’s your turn to look over at danielle, who’s tending to kids. you admire her for a bit, a small smile creeping up to your lips before you return to your own tasks.

—

the three of them—hanni, minji, and danielle—were huddled on the floor of minji’s room, surrounded by blankets and snacks. they’d been talking about everything and nothing for the past hour, the usual mix of gossip, random stories, and playful teasing filling the room as they have their monthly sleepover.

but as the conversation died down, danielle found her mind wandering back to the past few days—the past month—specifically to you. it had been happening more and more lately. volunteering with you at the elementary school had brought back feelings she thought she’d outgrown, but being around you so often was starting to get to her. all the walks to class were getting to her, the shared glances and grins, really just the awareness of you existing was making her think hard.

“are you okay, dani?” hanni asked, noticing the way danielle had fallen quiet, her face a little red.

minji narrowed her eyes playfully. “yeah, you’ve been acting weird all night. what’s going on?”

danielle sat up straighter, nervously picking at the hem of her oversized sweater. “um… okay, i’m probably just overthinking this, but—” she hesitated, biting her lip before blurting out, “i think i still like y/n.”

both hanni and minji exchanged looks, and then hanni grinned. “still? dani, i didn’t even know you ever stopped.”

“you never stopped,” minji added with a teasing smirk. “you’re just aware of it now because you two interact. i still remember how often you’d mention her back then when we were underclassmen. it wasn’t much, but i thought you always had eyes for her.”

“ugh.” danielle groaned, covering her face with her hands. “but like, it’s different now. we’ve been spending time together at the volunteering thing, even after that, and—” she paused, her voice softening, “she’s just so… sweet. and cute. like, even when she’s not trying, she’s just… ugh, i don’t know.”

hanni grinned, sitting up and leaning toward her. “oh my god, are you gushing?”

danielle peeked out from behind her hands, her face red. “no,” she muttered, but even she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “okay, maybe a little. yeah.”

“what’s she been doing that’s got you all flustered?” minji asked, genuinely curious now.

danielle sighed, her heart racing just thinking about it. “it’s like… little things, you know? like, she always makes sure i’m okay when we’re with the kids, and she’s so patient with them. and then there was this one time where a kid was playing with her hair, trying to style it, and she just let them do whatever they wanted without even complaining.” danielle laughed softly. “she just looked so cute and clueless, and i couldn’t stop staring. and she’s so, so sweet. she walks me to class and asks how i’m doing and we do gas station runs before or after volunteering and she’s so… crush worthy. i don’t know!”

hanni and minji exchanged knowing looks again.

“and like, we’ve barely talked since middle school, but now it’s like… i don’t know. it feels like nothing’s changed, but everything has? i just—” danielle paused, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “i’m starting to realize how much i like her again. we grew up kind of distant and it feels like there’s so much more to her that has me falling deeper than i ever had.”

minji smiled softly. “sounds like you’ve got it bad, dani.”

danielle groaned, lying back on the floor and covering her face again. “why is this happening?”

hanni laughed, poking her side. “because y/n’s cute, and you can’t handle it.”

“exactly,” minji agreed, her teasing grin in full force.

danielle sighed, letting her friends’ teasing wash over her as she tried to calm her racing heart. it was hopeless. she’d never stopped liking you, and now that you were back in her life, it was like everything was coming back all at once.

“what do i even do?” danielle muttered, staring up at the ceiling.

hanni grinned, nudging her. “easy. tell her.”

danielle blushed harder, shaking her head. “no way. i’ll just… i’ll wait.”

minji snorted. “yeah, good luck with that.”

—

that same night, you’re playing basketball with sohee at the court near your houses. sohee moved across the street from you right before high school started, and ever since that you two have been best friends. he’s someone you trust and love with your whole heart, but simultaneously a leech stuck to your side.

the night was cool, the court illuminated by the soft, dim glow of the overhead lights. you and sohee had been at it for a while, your usual one-on-one basketball game to unwind. except tonight, something was off. sohee was easily scoring on you, his movements quick and smooth while yours were sluggish and distracted. you missed shots you’d normally make without a second thought, and every time you tried to focus, your mind drifted back to danielle.

“y/n,” sohee called, catching the ball after your latest missed shot. “what is going on with you? you’re way off.”

you wiped the sweat from your brow, feeling the frustration rising. “nothing, i’m just… tired,” you muttered, but even you didn’t believe that excuse. sohee didn’t either.

he dribbled the ball lazily, walking toward you. “tired? no way. you’ve been off this whole game. i’ve scored more points in the last ten minutes than i usually do in an hour.” he nudged your shoulder with his elbow, his eyes narrowing playfully. “what’s going on?”

you hesitated, biting the inside of your cheek. it wasn’t like you to talk about stuff like this, especially with sohee, but the thoughts swirling around your head were starting to get overwhelming. you couldn’t deny it anymore.

with a sigh, you sat down on the edge of the court, sohee plopping down beside you. “it’s… danielle,” you finally admitted, your voice quieter than you intended.

sohee blinked, raising an eyebrow. “danielle?” he repeated, leaning back on his hands. “okay… go on.”

 you put your head in your hands, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “i don’t know. like, we’ve been hanging out more because of the volunteering stuff, and… i don’t know. i can’t stop thinking about her. like, at all. and it’s messing me up. before it was just a small, lingering crush. it’s so, so bad now.”

sohee’s expression softened, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “so you’ve been crushing on her hard, huh?”

you groaned, leaning your head back and staring up at the night sky. “yeah, i guess you could say that.” it felt like an understatement—it was an understatement. “but it’s more than that. i feel like… every time we’re together, i’m losing my mind. like, i don’t know what to do with myself. i’m always trying to act normal, but she’s so sweet and adorable and cute and i—” you stopped yourself, feeling embarrassed by how much you were rambling. “jesus, i sound like an idiot. don’t look at me—it’s bad.”

sohee chuckled, shaking his head. “honestly, from what you’ve told me, it sounds like she probably likes you too.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you shook your head. “no way. she’s just… being nice. that’s how she is.”

“nah,” sohee stood up, tossing the ball back and forth between his hands. “you don’t see it, but i’ve seen you guys together. and besides, people don’t just act like that for no reason. the way you described her, she’s gotta be into you.”

you raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “you think?”

sohee shrugged. “i mean, you won’t know until you ask her. but from where i’m standing, she’s been giving you all the signs. you are the only one who doesn’t catch her smiling at you, even looking at you. she has to be losing it just as much.”

you sat there for a moment, letting his words sink in. maybe he was right. maybe danielle did like you, but it was hard to believe, especially when you felt so off balance around her. still, the idea of it made your heart race in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“you’re overthinking it,” sohee said, tossing the ball to you. “just… be yourself. she clearly likes who you are, whether you realize it or not.”

you caught the ball, your grip tightening around it as you glanced at him. “and if you’re wrong?”

he laughed, shrugging. “then you’ll live, you always make it. but honestly, i don’t think i am.”

you exhaled slowly, standing up and bouncing the ball a couple of times. “yeah, maybe.”

sohee grinned, motioning for you to start the game again. “come on, let’s finish this. i’m not letting you off easy just because you want marsh.”

you laughed, feeling a little lighter as you dribbled the ball and faced him. “i’m gonna beat your ass—maybe stick to swimming.”

—

the next time you and danielle volunteer at the elementary school, the kids are in full creative mode, diving headfirst into arts and crafts. you watch as their tiny hands work with paper, markers, and glue sticks, their faces lit up with excitement. you and danielle sit side by side at a low table, helping them cut shapes and fold paper, but soon enough, the kids start getting ideas of their own.

"we’re gonna make you guys princesses!" one of the little girls announces with a grin, holding up some colored paper.

"yeah, princesses need crowns," another chimes in, already working on what looks like a very lopsided paper tiara.

danielle laughs softly, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "oh, wow. we’re honored, huh?" she says, glancing at you, her smile wide but a little flustered.

you nod, trying to play it cool even though the idea of you both as ‘princesses’ is making your head spin. "i guess we’re royalty for the day."

soon enough, you and danielle each have paper crowns placed carefully on your heads, the kids squealing in delight at their creations. you catch a glimpse of danielle out of the corner of your eye, and even though the crown is crooked and made of construction paper, she looks... perfect. she always does. she looks even better than any princess from the movies.

"okay, now you need to get married!" one of the boys shouts, bouncing on his feet as he holds out paper rings he made from scraps of old coloring sheets.

both you and danielle freeze for a second, the word ‘married’ hanging in the air like it’s some forbidden territory. you and danielle: married. but the kids don’t give you much time to process because suddenly, two of them grab your hands, pulling you up from your seats.

"come on! princesses have to get married!" they insist, giggling wildly.

danielle glances at you, her eyes wide, but she’s smiling, clearly trying to suppress how flustered she is. "uh, i guess we don’t really have a choice here," she says softly, her voice slightly shaky but still playful.

"nope, none at all," you respond, trying to sound as casual as possible, even though your heart is practically beating out of your chest. you reach out and take the paper ring they offer, pretending it’s all part of the fun as you slip it onto danielle’s finger. “but i don’t mind you as the princess.” you whisper.

danielle’s cheeks flush as she does the same, her fingers lightly brushing against yours as she slides the paper ring onto your hand. for a second, the whole room seems to blur, and it’s just the two of you standing there, awkwardly exchanging paper rings with a bunch of kids cheering you on.

"you may now... be married!" one of the kids declares, causing an eruption of giggles all around you.

you and danielle exchange a quick look, both of you clearly trying not to burst into laughter, but also kind of… lost in the moment. her smile is soft and shy, and you can’t help but feel the warmth spreading through your chest like always.

"well, that was... something," danielle murmurs, her voice quieter as she glances down at the ring now wrapped around your finger.

"yeah," you manage to say, your own voice barely steady. "guess we’re officially paper royalty now."

“i suppose so ‘your highness.’”

both of you laugh, but it’s the kind of laughter that lingers—nervous, sweet, and a little unsure of what it all means. you sit back down, the kids going off to make more crafts, but the paper rings stay on your fingers. neither of you make a move to take them off, both pretending like everything is fine, even though the butterflies in your stomach are telling you otherwise.

—

it was a typical friday after swim practice. you were tired but in a good mood, feeling the pleasant ache in your muscles as you pulled your hoodie over your head and adjusted your sweatpants. as you walked out of the locker room, your hair still damp, you see danielle waiting outside, leaning against the wall with her phone in her hand.

she looked up when you stepped out, and the smile that spread across her face was like a breath of fresh air. “hey,” she greeted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

you smiled back. “hey. waiting for hyein?” it was your automatic assumption since danielle usually hung out with her after school, and you were trying to play it cool, despite the sudden spike in your pulse.

danielle shook her head, biting her lip as if she was a little nervous. “no, actually. i was wondering… if you wanted to grab a bite with me? i mean, if you're free? if you’re going to grab dinner with sohee and wonbin though—i understand.”

for a second, you just stared at her, completely thrown off. danielle marsh, standing there, casually asking you to hang out. it felt surreal. she was looking at you expectantly, her eyes bright and hopeful, and it took everything in you to not freeze up completely.

“just us?”

“who else would be coming? i wanted to… spend time with you.” danielle fidgets with her fingers.

“uh, yeah, sure!” you finally managed to respond, hoping you didn’t sound too eager, but internally you were freaking out.

from the corner of your eye, you spotted sohee and wonbin leaning against the vending machine nearby, watching the whole thing unfold. sohee gave you a sly smirk, while wonbin raised his eyebrows in playful encouragement, clearly trying to get you to go along with it. they didn’t say a word, but their teasing looks were enough.

you ignored them, focusing back on danielle, who was smiling wider now that you’d agreed. “great!” she said, looking genuinely happy. “there’s this place nearby that makes really good sandwiches. hyein loves to eat there after practice.”

“sounds perfect,” you replied, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face as the two of you made your way toward the parking lot.

as you walked side by side, you couldn't help but sneak glances at her, wondering how the universe had aligned for this to happen. danielle, who had been so distant for years, was suddenly in your life again, and now you were about to grab sandwiches together.

you reached your car, and as danielle slid into the passenger seat, you tried to act normal. after all, this ins’t the first time danielle has been in your car. she clicked her seatbelt and looked over at you with a soft expression, and for a moment, everything felt easy.

you turned on the engine, glancing at her with a smile of your own. “let’s go get those sandwiches.”

—

you noticed one of the kids, a little boy named max, slumped over at his desk, his tiny hand still clutching a crayon while his head rested on his arm. he was fast asleep, the exhaustion from the day finally catching up to him. you smiled to yourself, gently lifting the crayon from his hand and setting it down before carefully scooping him up in your arms.

max stirred slightly but didn’t wake, his small body curling into you instinctively. you carried him across the room, making sure your steps were light and quiet, and set him down gently on a blanket in the corner. once you made sure he was comfortable, you knelt beside him, adjusting the blanket around him so he wouldn’t get cold.

as you stood up, brushing off your hands, you felt a pair of eyes on you. turning around, you caught danielle watching the whole scene, her gaze soft and warm. before you could say anything, she spoke, her voice quiet but filled with admiration.

"you're really sweet, you know that?" she said, almost like the words slipped out without her meaning to.

your face heated up instantly, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks. you rubbed the back of your neck, trying to play it off. "thank you," you mumbled, avoiding her gaze because the way she was looking at you made your heart race even more.

but danielle wasn’t letting it go that easily. she smiled at you, that same smile that always made your insides twist in the best way. "no, i mean it. you’re just... really good with them. it’s nice to see. you’re so sweet and so like, cute. sorry."

you blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. "uh, thanks. i just... i don’t know." you tried to brush it off again, but you could feel her eyes still on you, and it made you flustered beyond words.

danielle tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks a little pink now too. she quickly looked away, biting her lip like she couldn’t believe she’d just said that, and you swore you saw the smallest hint of nervousness in her expression.

you both stood there for a second in the quiet classroom, neither of you sure what to say next. but something unspoken passed between you, something warm and sweet, and even though neither of you acknowledged it out loud, it hung in the air like a gentle breeze.

maybe she didn’t just see you as a friend after all.

—

after leaving the elementary school, you and danielle decided to grab some smoothies, neither of you really wanting the day to end just yet. after picking up your drinks, you drove to a nearby park, parking in a spot that had a perfect view of the sunset. the sky was painted with soft pinks and oranges, fading into a deep blue as the sun dipped lower on the horizon.

sitting side by side in the car, both of you sipped on your smoothies, the air between you comfortable yet charged with something unspoken. danielle was flipping through her phone, looking for something to watch, and eventually settled on a short movie you both had heard about. you propped your phone up on the dashboard, the two of you leaning back in your seats, the glow from the screen illuminating your faces.

the movie played on, but your mind wasn’t completely on it. not really. it was hard to focus when danielle was sitting so close, her laugh quiet but making your heart race every time. you could feel the warmth of her next to you, and each little shift she made only reminded you of how much you liked her.

as the movie reached its peak, the two characters on screen began to confess their feelings for each other. it was a sweet, heartwarming moment, and as you watched, you couldn’t help but feel the growing urge to say something. the way they looked at each other, the vulnerability, the raw emotion—everything felt so familiar.

you glanced over at danielle, who was also watching the scene intently. her hand rested on her lap, fingers lightly tapping to some rhythm only she could hear. your heart pounded in your chest, and before you could stop yourself, you opened your mouth to speak, but then—

“i like you.”

the words tumbled out at the exact same time. both of you froze, eyes wide as you turned to face each other. danielle’s hand smacks over her mouth at the same tiem as you. for a second, it was like the world had stopped, the air between you electric, charged with a mix of surprise and relief. 

danielle’s eyes blinked in shock, and then she laughed softly, her cheeks turning pink as she ducked her head slightly. "what? you, you like me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

you nodded, feeling equally flustered but relieved. you turn toward your wheel and put your hands over your face as you lean against it. “yeah,” you mumble against your skin. 

there was a beat of silence, the tension dissolving into something lighter, something sweet. you both smiled at each other, the nervousness fading as the reality of the moment settled in.

"i thought it was just me," she admitted shyly.

"same," you replied, grinning despite the butterflies in your stomach. "but... i'm glad i wasn’t." you lean back in your seat, unable to look at her.

danielle let out a little laugh, and for a moment, everything felt right. you weren’t just friends anymore, not after this. and as the last light of the sunset faded, the two of you sat there in the quiet of the car, your hands slowly finding each other in the space between you. it felt like something had shifted—something you’d both been waiting for.

she looks at you, her eyes still wide, her smile soft but curious. "how long?" she asks quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. the question hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of it.

you swallowed, feeling the heat rise to your face. "uh... since middle school," you admitted, glancing down at your hands nervously. "it was after we finished the fitness testing... remember? you put a flower in my hair while i was sweaty and tired and gross."

danielle’s eyes lit up with recognition, a soft giggle escaping her lips. "wait, really? you liked me then?" she asked, her smile growing as she leaned in a little closer, clearly caught up in the moment. 

"yeah," you nodded, feeling the giddiness rise in your chest. "i remember being so embarrassed because i thought i looked terrible, but you just smiled at me like... like it didn’t matter."

danielle blushed deeply, covering her mouth with her hand as she giggled. "oh my god, i didn’t know! and now i feel even worse because... i’ve liked you since middle school too."

your heart nearly stopped at her words, your eyes widening in surprise. "wait, what? since when?"

"remember that science project we did together?" danielle asked, her cheeks still flushed. "you finished most of it because i was sick for half the week... and you didn’t complain once. you just did it and made sure i didn’t feel bad about it. you even emailed me to drink water and take care of myself. how could i not like you."

“oh"

"yeah," danielle smiled, a little shy now. "i think that’s when i realized you were really special."

both of you were blushing now, giggling nervously in between your confessions, like you couldn’t quite believe what was happening. it was surreal, this moment you’d both been unknowingly waiting for since you were kids. and now here you were, sitting in your car, finally on the same page after all these years.

"i can’t believe we’ve both been... waiting this long," you said, still grinning like an idiot. you smack your forehead with your palm.

"me neither," danielle agreed, her voice soft as her gaze lingered on yours. her smile grew, her eyes sparkling with that familiar light you’d always admired. "but i’m really glad we know now."

"yeah," you whispered, feeling your heart swell as you looked at her. "me too."

silence settled between you two after the giddy confessions, but it wasn’t awkward. it felt... comfortable. like a new kind of peace, where everything was finally out in the open. danielle fiddled with her smoothie cup, glancing at you every now and then with a soft smile, while you kept sneaking looks at her as you drove, your heart doing little flips each time you caught her eyes.

the drive to her house felt shorter than usual, and before you knew it, you were pulling up in front of her place. you turned the engine off, the soft hum of the car dying down as you both sat in the lingering quiet. you wanted to say something, anything to keep her here just a little longer, but your mind was blank—except for the thought of how much you didn’t want this moment to end.

danielle turned to you, her eyes warm and sparkling under the dim glow of the streetlight. "thanks for today," she said quietly, her voice gentle, but there was something more behind it, something unspoken that hung between you.

you felt your heart race again. "no problem, anytime."

danielle looks like she wants to say something. she looks at you with an uncertain expression, biting her lip to hold back something.

“i want to kiss you so bad right now danielle.” you admit quickly, almost out of breath. “you look so cute right now i kind of want to get run over because of how adorable you look. like, oh my god.”

“no, yeah, i feel the same. can we— can i kiss you? oh my god, i’ve never done this before.”

you giggle, “me neither.”

there was a brief pause, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned in—just slightly. it was almost instinctual, like the air between you both had been pulling you closer this entire time. danielle noticed, her breath hitching softly as her eyes flickered to your lips, and in the next heartbeat, she closed the distance.

the kiss was soft, tentative—both of you so nervous, yet so eager. her lips were warm and gentle against yours. danielle’s hand slid into your hair, ruffling it up a bit more and sending shivers down your spine. you couldn’t help but melt into her touch. your own hands trembled as you cupped her cheek, everything feeling new and exciting, yet strangely right.

when you finally pulled apart, both of you were blushing so hard, it was almost embarrassing. you could barely look at each other without grinning like idiots, your hearts pounding in unison. danielle let out a soft laugh, her cheeks bright pink as she quickly glanced at the door.

"um... i’ll—i’ll see you tomorrow?" she stammered, clearly flustered, but there was a giddy, breathless smile on her face that made your own heart stutter.

"yeah, tomorrow," you managed to say, your voice shaky from the rush of emotions. you were still trying to process what had just happened, your lips tingling from the kiss as you watched her open the door to leave. “one more?”

danielle laughs, then gives you a brief kiss before pulling away and avoiding your gaze from nervousness.

she waves a quick goodbye before disappearing into her house, but not without one last smile that made your heart swell all over again. you sat there for a moment longer, your face burning as you replayed everything in your head. the kiss, the confession, her soft touch—it all felt like a dream, one you were still floating in.

the slightest amount of physical contact from you sends her spiralling, she can’t think right the moment your shoulders graze or fingers brush against one another. her palms go sweaty, her breath gets short, and her face warms up; hanni tends to be more distant when it comes to you.

maybe it's the way you do it so effortlessly, plus that little smirk on your face that renders her dumber than she already is. maybe it's because your hands are always so warm that it makes her flinch away, or maybe it's something more. but this could mean nothing, right?

--

exhibit a:

hanni wasn’t always wary of your touch. there was a point in time where she’d give you hugs without thinking, let you lean on her shoulder or lean on yours, even intertwine fingers during livestreams or just spontaneously because why not?

one night, while in spain during your time recording for the new ep, you two had been put into a room together. there had been two beds, but you wanted to hangout near hanni while you doom scrolled and texted your friends. hanni let you linger there, neither of you had made any physical contact during the time until you mindlessly put your leg over hers, linking it.

while you went on your phone hanni would glance at you, she didn’t know why. you caught her in the midst of it, interrupted her while she traced the curve of your lips and she could only blush.

“is there something on my face?”

hanni still stares, not answering for a bit until a few seconds pass.

“no, i just zoned out.”

“okay...?” you ignore it with a chuckle, returning to your phone.

after hours of scrolling, you yawn, your phone falling somewhere on the bed as the hours of recording and singing throughout that day had caught up to you.

you fell asleep first, your breathing soft and steady, while hanni lay beside you, wide awake. she didn’t mind though. you hadn't moved to your bed, and hanni isn't strong enough to carry you (she's smaller and shorter, that's quite given; you tease her endlessly for it). she couldn’t bring herself to wake you up, watching the peaceful way you drifted off. she felt warm next to you, like it was the most natural thing in the world to be here, sharing this moment. eventually, she let her eyes close too, not bothering to move. she liked the closeness.

the two of you fell asleep beside each other on your backs, your hands barely touching and a leg tangled with the other.

when you woke up, the first thing you noticed was how you were wrapped around her. your arm was draped over her waist, your body molded against hers, and for a moment, you were too comfortable to move. it was similar to the feeling of cuddling your pillow at night in the dorms, but instead with hanni. you really liked the feeling of her in your arms, weirdly enough.

hanni was awake now too, but she hadn’t shifted yet. instead, she lay still, her heart beating faster as she became hyperaware of the closeness between you two. she could feel your warmth, every breath, every slight movement, and it made her feel bubbly and panicked.

hanni wasn’t used to feeling this way, like her entire body was on edge, but in the best way possible. being this close to you—it made everything feel different, more intense. physical touch isn't new to her in the slightest, considering all the members are a little touchy (danielle is a whole different story), but she's never felt this way with you or any of the other members. her thoughts were running a mile a minute, and she couldn’t help but steal glances at your face, admiring how soft and peaceful you looked in the morning light. her nerves kicked in when she realized how close your lips were to her shoulder, how intimate this all suddenly felt.

fuck, hanni thought. everything felt so perfect, but this only made her more wary.

and then you stirred, slowly waking up again, your eyes fluttering open. when your gaze landed on her, your lips curved into the softest, sleepiest smile, and it made her heart skip a beat.

“morning han,” you mumble, your voice raspy with sleep as you reach up to gently caress her face. your thumb brushes her cheek, and she can’t help but lean into your touch, her skin tingling from the simple gesture.

hanni can't breathe. her lips part, and then she closes her mouth to tense her jaw.

“you’re so pretty in the morning,” you say, still groggy but sincere. "how are you real?"

hanni’s face flushes immediately, her heart doing flips as she stares at you, wide-eyed. “you can’t just say things like that,” she murmurs, trying to suppress a smile, feeling shy all of a sudden.

you chuckle softly, your hand still resting on her cheek, not wanting to pull away. “why not? it’s true.”

hanni wants to pull away, it's too much. she feels like her heart might just escape from her chest.

the way you look at her, sleepy but affectionate, makes her feel weirdly nervous in the best way. the closeness, the intimacy—it’s overwhelming, but in a way that makes her want to stay right there, wrapped up in you.

but she can't, the pit in her stomach doesn't let her.

she shifts away, turning and groaning playfully as she stretches. she checks her phone, the time saving her from this situation.

"shit, we should be getting up soon."

you frown, hand resting on hanni's waist still until she sits up and rubs her eyes. "do we have to?" you ask, wanting to stay in bed a little longer with her in your arms. something about being so close to her and her specifically makes you really content.

"we have to get to the location, eat, get ready, recording—you know, all that."

you pout, rolling away from her and finding a pillow to replace her warmth.

"five more minutes?"

"fine..." hanni huffs, looking at you fondly. she can't tell if she's fond of the weird rush you give her either.

—

exhibit b

hanni is in the middle of vlogging, setting up her phone on the counter as she stirs something on the stove. her voice is light, a little bubbly, as she explains what she’s making for dinner, though she’s focused on keeping everything smooth for the video.

the phone drops and she groans, biting her lip subtly as she sets it back up, returning to her little commentary.

“so, i’m just letting this simmer for a bit,” she says, leaning closer to the pot, “and then i’ll—”

before she can finish, you come up behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist. she gasps, then freezes for a second, her whole body stiffening as your head gently rests on her shoulder. she can feel your warmth instantly, she can smell your signature sweet perfume, and the sudden contact makes her heart jump into her throat.

your arms pull her close, and her cheeks heat up as if the stove’s flames were warming her directly. she knows she’s still on camera, but for a moment, she can barely remember what she was even talking about.

“hey,” you mumble softly, voice low and a bit tired, but sweet. “what are you making?”

hanni’s grip on the spoon tightens, and she laughs awkwardly, trying to play it cool. “uh, j-just… dinner,” she manages, her voice a little higher than usual. her brief stutter earns a punch to herself (mentally of course) and she cringes internally. her brain is short-circuiting from the feel of you pressed against her back, your head so close to hers. she swears her face is probably bright red by now. there is no way this is getting cut out, especially not with the popularity you two have as a duo.

you lift your head from her shoulder, standing beside her but still lingering close, your arm brushing against hers. hanni tries her best to focus on the camera, forcing herself to talk about the food again, but it’s so difficult with you right there, looking effortlessly adorable after coming back from your shoot. you’re in casual clothes, but there’s something about the way you look—tired but still glowing—that makes her even more flustered.

“you look cute,” she hears you say softly, just loud enough for her to hear but not for the camera, and it completely throws her off. you look her dead in the eye, your gaze dropping to her lips and then back up as you smile. she almost drops the spoon, quickly looking at the camera and then back at the food, trying to regain her composure. her mind is a mess. how is she supposed to vlog when you’re like this?

“uh—thank you,” hanni stammers, her cheeks fully tinted pink now. she tries to laugh it off, stirring the pot with more focus than necessary, but the tension in her shoulders gives her away.

you chuckle softly, leaning a little closer to check what she’s making. “need help?”

hanni shakes her head quickly, eyes wide as she glances at you, then back at the camera. “n-no! i’m good, totally fine,” she insists, though her flustered state says otherwise.

“okay,” you hum, stepping back but still watching her with a teasing grin. "but if you need me to cut anymore veggies or meat i can! just ring me up! bunnies, did you know that i'm actually a wonnnnnnderful cook? i used to cook a lot with my parents-"

hanni lets you ramble, she loves hearing you ramble. she can't help but smile everytime you do, your voice is like music to her ears, it’s a symphony.

when you're finished with your ramble, you bring the attention back to hanni. "now back to our show!"

hanni lets out a quiet breath of relief, trying her best to wrap up the vlog—or at least this segment. “so, yeah! um, this just needs a few more minutes, and then dinner will be ready.” her voice wavers slightly, but she manages to end the video, turning off the camera with shaky hands.

as soon as the camera’s off, she turns to you, her face still red, and you can’t help but laugh softly at how flustered she is.

“you’re impossible,” she mutters, playfully swatting at you, but there’s a shy smile tugging at her lips.

“what?” you ask, oblivious to everything going on.

"i--" hanni pauses, shaking her head before flicking you in the forehead. "go change, dinner will be ready by then."

…

@/dailyyn on twitter:

“hanni and y/n crumbs! look how good y/n looks after the shoot… imagine being her gf and she greets you like this… id kill to be hanni”

the clip shows you surprising hanni, making her blush with your subtle antics and sharing the cute moment on camera. fans go a little insane partially because of your look, and also the chemistry between the two of you.

↪️@/tokkijeans: is it just me or are they really close? like.. suspiciously close

↪️@/ynslover: replying to @/tokkijeansi wouldn’t be surprised if they. were dating… i’ve never seen hanni so shy

↪️@/hanynenjoyer: this video is so cute! they’re my everything…

—

exhibit c

the studio was lively, filled with activity as the photobook shoot progressed. bright lights flashed intermittently, casting soft shadows over the set as you and hanni stood close, posing for the camera.

you two were in arguably casual clothing, but obviously topped off with some extra details because it was for a photoshoot. you couldn't stop staring at hanni, stealing glances whenever you could. she looked gorgeous, that wasn't debatable. her hair was styled in a way that made it a little wavy and a small clip pinned the hair that would frame her face back.

in return, hanni was doing her absolute best to keep her cool. the light makeup made your features stand out subtly, especially your lips (which hanni couldn't stop stealing a peek at), making you look stunning. you'd probably go trending on twitter later, hanni knows you like to upload selcas after things like this, and each one never fails to gain lots of attention.

(not just from the fans, but from your fellow member too.)

the photographers suggested subtle intimacy—small, delicate touches, heads leaning together, eyes locking in moments that felt almost too real. they had convinced you two it would fit the concept: domestic, casual, and comfortable. for you, it was easy to comply, maybe even natural, to slip into those roles. especially when it was hanni by your side.

your hand brushed against hers as you adjusted your stance, smiling to yourself when you caught her glancing at you. hanni was trying to keep her cool, you could tell—but why? her usual ease seemed strained, her body a little tense despite the casual poses. but you? you were just happy to be this close to her, to feel her warmth as you both leaned into the moment.

the photographer directed a few more shots, asking you to sit beside hanni and lean your head against her shoulder. you did so with ease, resting your cheek carefully on her shoulder. you could feel her freeze slightly under your touch, her body rigid against yours. you bring your hand over and place it over hers, rubbing your fingers gently against her skin to coax her back into relaxation—miraculously, it works.

you didn’t think too much the whole thing; after all, these shoots always required some closeness. but with hanni, it was different. your heart felt lighter being near her, warmer in a way that you didn’t feel with anyone else. you smiled softly as you shifted into the next pose, letting her lean against you this time, her back pressing against your shoulders.

she smelled sweet, like the faintest hint of citrus, and you found yourself wanting to linger there a little longer.

"you smell good." you mumble softly as the photographer readjusts his settings. "like really good."

hanni doesnt answer, she opts for pinching you playfully instead, earning a chuckle.

"what? you look really good too."

"shut up." hanni says, mostly for the sake of her sanity. "you're so... ugh."

the moment ended when the photographer had caught both of your attention again. you two stop bickering (if you could even call it that) and focus once more.

the camera flashes one final time, and the photographer calls it a wrap. as the crew began to clear the set, hanni quickly stepped away, her cool facade returning as she busied herself with adjusting her outfit, avoiding your gaze. your heart sank a little at her sudden distance.

you stood there for a second, watching her, a growing pit of uncertainty forming in your stomach. it wasn’t the first time this had happened. hanni had a way of pulling back whenever you got too close, a way of putting space between you that made you second-guess everything. you were touchy with everyone—that was just who you were—but with hanni, it was different. she made you happier, made your heart feel full in a way that was hard to describe. she was so adorable, so easy to be around, and sometimes you couldn’t help but think of being close to her all the time.

but now, watching her act distant again, you couldn’t help but feel a bit upset. was it something you did? were you pushing too far? but she's completely fine with dani dragging her around, haerin randomly leaning against her, and even she initiates the phsyical contact with minji. not to mention hyein, who's always clinging onto everyone — but that's hyein, she's like a younger sister to you all.

your thoughts spiraled as you bit your lip, trying to shake off the gnawing feeling.

hanni finally glanced your way, catching your gaze for a split second before quickly looking away, her face unreadable. you frowned, taking a step toward her. “hanni… are we good?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light, though the hint of worry bled through.

she hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “yeah, of course. why wouldn’t we be?”

“i don’t know. it just—” you paused, struggling to find the right words. “sometimes, it feels like you’re… distant. like you’re pulling away. was the shoot too much? was i too much?"

hanni blinked, her expression softening just slightly, but she still didn’t meet your eyes. “no, no— and i’m not pulling away,” she said quietly, but the uncertainty in her voice didn’t do much to reassure you.

you narrow your eyes at her, trying to believe her. you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “okay. if you say so.”

the air between you felt thick, tense, and it was hard to shake the disappointment that clung to you as you watched her pack up her things. you wanted to be close to her, wanted to feel that warmth again, but right now, it felt like she was slipping through your fingers.

this left you spiraling even more, trying to figure out what went wrong. hanni walks over to watch the others, letting danielle cling onto her and not visibly getting nervous or anything like that. was it you? it had to be.

—

soobin was like the big brother you never had, and you were forever grateful for that accidental meeting while you were a trainee and he was a rookie—when he’d spilled his coffee all over you. it had been embarrassing then, but now? it was the reason you had biweekly catch-up sessions—usually over facetime, since no one in the industry liked to see a girl group member breathing the same air as a boy group member.

but today was different. today, the two of you were in one of the company lounge areas, sharing snacks from the convenience store and sipping on the flavored milk soobin had brought. he watched you quietly, eyes filled with concern as you sank into your chair, picking at your fruit gummies without much enthusiasm.

“have things been rough? are they pushing you too hard?” he asked, his voice soft.

you shook your head, your lips pressing into a thin line. “i think my coworker hates me.”

“as in… a member?”

“yeah.” you sighed, popping an orange gummy into your mouth and chewing it slowly.

“may i pry?” soobin asks, stealing a gummy from your pack.

you nodded. “yeah, go ahead.”

“who is it?” he questions, chewing his stolen gummy.

“hanni.”

soobin froze mid-chew, his brows furrowing. “wait, hanni? but— the internet’s always talking about you two. i mean, i know you can’t trust everything online, but i’ve seen it too. you guys seem close.”

“yeah, well, i think she hates it. all the physical stuff, everything i do…” you trailed off, sinking deeper into your seat. “am i terrible?”

the hood of your sweatshirt slipped over your head as you slouched, messing up your hair. soobin couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, tilting his head as he looked at you. “you’re not terrible, y/n,” he assured you, his voice steady. “maybe she’s just—”

“i think i’m in love with her.” you blurted out, groaning as you covered your face with your hands. “i’m in love with her, i think. no, fuck that, i know.”

soobin stared at you, wide-eyed. “you what?”

“i’m in love with her,” you mumbled again, sinking even lower into your seat, hands covering your face. “god, i realized it last night while i was sulking in bed at midnight. and now, everything makes sense. i want to be close to her all the time because i want something more. and i feel like a creep because—am i weird? am i… am i a predator for being so touchy with her? what if she hates me for it?”

he watched as your expression shifted from miserable to horrified, your body practically sliding off the chair now. his deep voice cut through your spiral, calm and steady as ever. “you’re not a predator. trust me. the fact that you’re aware of how your actions might affect her shows that. you’re self-aware, and you care enough to try and make things better.”

“but… this could ruin everything.” your voice was small, defeated.

“it won’t,” soobin says firmly. “i know you.”

“do you know her?”

he shrugged, smiling softly. “i don’t need to know hanni as well as i know you. you always get things done, y/n. you always work it out. remember when we had those dating rumors? you handled that pretty well.”

you groaned at the memory, but it did lift your spirits just a bit. the whole two-week ‘scandal’ had been absurd. someone had noticed that you and soobin both had the same roblox sticker on your phone cases in your selcas, posted just two days apart. it blew up online, spiraling into dating rumors that, frankly, neither of you could believe.

the whole thing was based on a sticker. a roblox sticker. beomgyu had given soobin the sticker, and soobin, thinking it was dumb and funny, gave you one too. somehow, the internet made it a conspiracy.

you had to lie, saying you barely knew soobin, and that you found the sticker on the floor of the hybe building, thinking it was funny. it was the only way to get the fans to calm down. soobin had to pretend he barely knew you as well, but the two of you had giggled over facetime because of it—which was great for your mental state while you noticed the forced hate towards you.

“ugh, that was so weird,” you mutter. “if only they knew we’re—”

“completely off the radar,” soobin finished for you, chuckling. “like some future lavender marriage if the media doesn’t get off our asses.”

you snorted at that, “gross,” but your smile quickly faded as the weight of your current situation settled in again.

he shrugged, his smile gentle. “i don’t need to know hanni as well as i know you to be sure of this. you’re the kind of person who works through things. you always have, and you always will. you’ve told me how close you two were during your trainee days—there’s no way she’d want to throw that all away. besides, isn’t it better to have her in your life, even if you’re in love with her, than to lose her altogether?”

for someone so stupid, he’s equally as wise.

you bite your lip, a sense of helplessness settling in your chest. “i don’t know,” you say, voice soft. “sometimes, i just want to pull away, distance myself so i don’t screw it all up, but… but then i’m around her, and she’s just so... so hanni. she’s adorable and funny and makes me feel so warm inside. and then i'm close to her, and it’s like this weird feeling that makes me want more, but… i don’t want to scare her off. i don’t want her to think i’m weird.”

you could feel tears of frustration prickling at the corners of your eyes, your hands trembling as you spoke. admitting your feelings out loud made them feel so much more real, and that terrified you.

soobin leaned over, placing a hand on your shoulder, his deep voice a steadying force amidst the chaos of your thoughts.

“you’re not weird,” he repeated gently. “you just care. and that’s a good thing. but you need to trust yourself, y/n. you’re good at this—at reading people, at figuring things out. if hanni ever felt concerningly uncomfortable, you’d notice. just... be careful. take your time. you’ll figure it out. i know you will.”

you stared down at your hands, twisting the edge of your hoodie in your fingers. the weight of your confession hung heavily between you and soobin, but there was also a strange sense of relief in having said it out loud—like you had finally let go of something you’d been holding onto for far too long.

“yeah,” you said softly, nodding. “i guess so.”

—

two days after spilling your alleged unrequited love to your wonderful, amazing, stupid, and very gay bestfriend you had gotten dating rumors with—you're sent to a prada show.

being one of the faces for the brand meant being sent to fashion weeks, shows, and various other schedules that had you showing off the designer brand. and each time this happened, you went viral, because prada never fails to impress, especially when it's you.

you’re set for a photoshoot, this time for the cover of vogue. the weight of it feels significant, but not overwhelming. you’re wearing a prada crop top that shows off your toned abdomen, the result of months of dedication and hard work. the black blazer and slacks, perfectly tailored, give you an oversized yet effortlessly chic look, striking that balance between casual and captivating. everything fits like a glove, intentional but laid-back.

you admire yourself in the mirror, your eyes tracing the sharp angles of your makeup. the subtle eyeshadow that makes a statement, the clean lines, the way it accentuates your features—you can’t help but praise the makeup artist, murmuring compliments as you run a hand through your messy, artfully tousled hair. it’s wild but controlled, you snap a picture quickly for your fans.

when it’s time, you step onto the set, the bold red backdrop making you stand out even more. the lights hit just right, casting shadows that emphasize your figure, and for a moment, as you strike the first pose, you think to yourself: wow, this is for the girls.

after shooting is done, you monitor your pictures and are caught off guard from how great they look. you weren't that confident about oyu rvisuals back then, singing and dancing you could od well, but visuals got to your head. you've learned to love yourself more the more your members and the internet praised you, but mostly because hanni used to compliment you a lot even with your bare face, you wish she still did it.

"woah," you say, snapping pictures of the monitoring screen to post to bubble later.

...

hanni is sitting at the dinner table, a snack in hand as she absentmindedly scrolls through her phone. the dorm is quiet, most of the members tucked away in their rooms, and hyein isn’t around tonight since she's with her family. it’s been a long day, but she finds some comfort in texting her sister, filling the silence with their usual banter. she's distracted enough that she almost doesn’t notice the notification from the official newjeans account.

her thumb hesitates before clicking on it, already assuming it’s something from your vogue shoot. everyone knew you were out for the day, busy with your big shoot, so it seemed natural. but what she didn’t expect was how stunning you’d look.

the first picture stops her cold. you’re lounging on some plush couch, leaning back with that casual confidence she’s only ever seen in person—half smirk, half knowing gaze. hanni’s heart stumbles in her chest. you look beyond good. you’re breathtaking. the makeup, perfectly done but not too much, the messy hair that somehow looks effortlessly styled—it’s too much. she gulps without even realizing, eyes locked on the screen as she stares for longer than she cares to admit.

thirty seconds go by, maybe more, before she hesitantly swipes to the next slide. each new picture draws her in further, and it’s not getting any easier to look away. you’re a vision in every shot, and her chest tightens with each one. she knows she’s been trying to distance herself, trying to get her feelings under control, but how is she supposed to do that when just seeing you on her screen makes her lose her cool like this?

“you’ve been staring at that for a while, haven’t you?” danielle’s voice cuts through her thoughts, light and teasing. hanni jumps in her seat, turning to see danielle settling in next to her. she leans over, her eyes landing on the picture of you still displayed on hanni’s phone. “she looks pretty.” danielle adds.

“um, yeah,” hanni mutters, hurriedly swiping out of instagram, but the heat in her cheeks is unmistakable. she sets her phone down as if that’ll somehow help her case.

danielle smirks, raising an eyebrow as she gives her a sidelong glance. “you seemed to like that post, huh?”

“i was just… zoning out,” hanni tries, but the uncertainty in her voice betrays her. it sounds unconvincing even to her own ears.

“seemed like more than that to me.” danielle’s voice is light, playful, but there’s a glint in her eye that says she knows exactly what’s going on.

hanni lets out a forced laugh, trying to brush it off. “what are you even saying?”

“i’m saying,” danielle starts, leaning in just a bit closer, “that it’s quite odd of you to stare so hard at her. not just at her on the cover of vogue, but in general.”

hanni swallows hard, trying to play it cool, but the flutter in her chest tells her otherwise. danielle’s right, and the worst part is, she can’t even deny it.

danielle’s eyes linger on hanni, clearly not buying her act. hanni feels the pressure building, but she stays silent, forcing a simple shrug as if nothing’s wrong. she knows danielle is waiting for her to crack, but she’s not ready to let everything spill. not yet.

"so…" danielle starts, her voice teasing but gentle, “you’re really gonna act like that wasn’t you staring at y/n’s photos for, what, five minutes?”

hanni scoffs, though it sounds forced. “it wasn’t five minutes, and i wasn’t staring like that.”

danielle crosses her arms, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “right. sure you weren’t. you only jumped like i caught you doing something illegal.”

“i was just… scrolling,” hanni mutters, turning her attention back to her phone, trying to seem unbothered. she swipes through random apps, but danielle’s quiet presence next to her makes it impossible to focus on anything else.

“scrolling, huh? that’s what you’re going with?”

“yep.”

“uh-huh. so if i ask again why you were so focused on y/n, you’re gonna say… what?”

hanni huffs, leaning back in her chair. “danielle, it’s not a big deal. i just zoned out, okay? she’s my friend. we work together. seeing her on my feed isn’t weird.” her tone is defensive, too defensive for her liking.

danielle raises her eyebrow, unrelenting. “zoning out on the same picture for thirty seconds? then the next one? and the one after that? you sure it’s nothing?”

hanni’s lips press into a thin line, irritation bubbling up, though it’s more with herself than with danielle. why is this so hard? why can’t she just brush it off? but danielle is looking at her with that piercing, curious gaze, and hanni knows she’s not letting it go. plus, it's danielle.

“you’re imagining things,” hanni tries, though her voice wavers.

“am i?” danielle leans forward slightly, her tone is soft but persistent. “because i know what i saw. and this isn’t the first time you’ve been weird about y/n.”

hanni blinks, her guard starting to slip. “what do you mean ‘weird’?”

“you’ve been acting strange around her for a while now,” danielle points out. “you avoid her, then get all flustered when she’s near. and now you’re sitting here, staring at her photos like you’re in a trance. come on, hanni. something’s up.”

hanni clenches her jaw, trying to hold onto the last bits of defense she has. “it’s… it’s not like that. she’s just—”

“just what?” danielle cuts in, her voice more patient than accusing. “you can tell me. whatever it is, i’m not judging.”

hanni sighs, her resolve beginning to crumble under danielle’s persistent questions. she opens her mouth, but no words come out, her mind racing to come up with some kind of excuse, something that’ll make danielle drop it. but there’s nothing, and hanni knows it.

danielle’s watching her closely now, not pushing too hard but clearly waiting for hanni to finally let it out. “hanni, it’s okay. i’m not gonna force you to talk if you don’t want to. but i’m just saying, i’m here if you need to get something off your chest.”

hanni bites her lip, her heart pounding in her chest. she can feel the words bubbling up, the truth she’s been trying so hard to suppress. but how can she admit it? how can she explain that being near you makes her feel like her heart is about to burst, that every touch and smile from you sends her into a spiral? she's beyond fucked.

“danielle, it’s not… it’s not what you think,” hanni starts, but even she knows how weak it sounds. she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes darting away from danielle’s.

danielle lets out a soft sigh, her tone turning gentle. “hanni, it’s okay to feel something for her. you don’t have to keep it all inside.”

“i don’t—” hanni stops herself, the words catching in her throat. “it’s not… ugh, i don’t even know how to explain it.”

danielle stays quiet, waiting for her to continue.

hanni rubs her face, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “i don’t… i don’t know what to do. she’s just—she’s everywhere, danielle. i can’t even breathe when she’s around. she’s always so close, always so touchy, and it’s driving me insane. i can’t handle it.”

danielle’s expression softens further, nodding slowly as if to encourage her to keep going.

“and it’s not like i don’t like her or anything,” hanni continues, her voice wavering. “that’s the problem. i like her too much. and i don’t know how to deal with it, so i’ve been pushing her away. and now she probably thinks i’m a complete jerk, but… i don’t know what else to do.”

danielle raises her eyebrows. “you’ve been pushing her away because you like her?”

hanni groans, slumping down in her seat. “yeah. because every time she's close to me i feel like i’m gonna explode. she’s so—ugh. she makes me feel things, and i hate it. i don’t know how to be around her without freaking out.”

“so you’re in love with her,” danielle says simply, no judgment in her tone.

hanni freezes, her heart skipping a beat at the words. in love. she opens her mouth to protest, but the truth is already sitting heavy in her chest. she exhales shakily, realizing there’s no point in denying it anymore.

“yeah,” hanni mutters, almost too quietly for danielle to hear. “i think i am.”

danielle leans back, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “well, that’s a start. at least now you’ve admitted it.”

hanni buries her face in her hands again, feeling the weight of the confession settle over her. “what am i supposed to do? i’ve been acting so weird around her, and she probably thinks i hate her now.”

danielle shakes her head. “hanni, i don’t think y/n could ever think that. if anything, she’s probably wondering why you’re avoiding her. you should talk to her.”

hanni groans again. “but what if she doesn’t feel the same way? what if i ruin everything?”

“you won’t,” danielle says confidently. “you’re both close. i don’t think y/n would throw away your friendship over this. but you’ll never know how she feels if you don’t talk to her.”

hanni knows danielle is right, but the thought of confronting her feelings—and you—feels terrifying.

"and if it makes you feel better..." danielle continues, "i don't think the chances of her not returning the feelings are high. she cares for you a lot and she's not nearly as touchy or close with any of us—just you han."

"oh."

hanni bites her lip, fighting every worry in her head. as she does so, the root of her crisis returns home.

both her and danielle look up to see you sighing as you close the door, waving at them tiredly as you walk towards where your room is. danielle tilts her head, looking at you closely: your shoulders are sinking a bit, your hair is messier than before, and you look exhausted.

"how was everything?" danielle asks you, ignoring hanni beside her who's trying to recover from her feelings taking over. "your makeup is still intact."

"i fear." you say tiredly, rubbing your eyes. "it was cool, but they made me do a lot of promo and interviews. it's over now at least."

you glance at hanni, who's failing to meet your gaze.

"well," you start, "i'm going to go wash up and pass out. night guys."

"night!" danielle beams, smiling.

you look at hanni, waiting for a response. she finally looks you in the eye, then seemingly scans your face and hesitating before she also says, "night y/n, rest up okay?"

"yeah, of course han." you smile softly, waving to them once more before disappearing into the hallway.

danielle looks at hanni immediately after you're out of their sight, and speaks as soon as she hears the door close.

hanni just groans, hiding her face in her hands as she mumbles, "she looks too good i can't possibly--"

"don't be like that." danielle scolds, "it'll be fine."

hanni can barely look at you these days, the fact that she has to face you while knowing everything she feels is real and inescapable—hanni might be on her deathbed soon.

—

the room is warm, sunlight streaming through the thin curtains and casting a soft glow over the space. your blanket is tangled around you, your loose pajamas wrinkled as you lay sprawled across your bed. hanni stands quietly in the doorway, staring at your still form with a soft sigh. she knows she should wake you up; you've overslept, and the rest of the members have already started their day. but as she stands there, watching the rise and fall of your chest, something holds her back.

your hair’s a mess, sticking up in all directions, and you’re wearing that loose t-shirt she gave you months ago. it’s oversized, slipping off your shoulder, and the sight of you like this—so comfortable, so unguarded—makes her heart skip a beat. there’s something about how peaceful you look that makes hanni want to crawl into bed with you, to be close, but she knows she shouldn’t.

she swallows, shaking off the thought, reminding herself why she’s here. she’s supposed to wake you up, not… whatever it is her mind keeps drifting to. taking a deep breath, she walks closer and kneels by the edge of your bed.

"y/n," she whispers, poking your cheek gently. "you’re gonna be late if you don’t get up."

you don’t move, still lost in whatever dream you’re having and turning away. hanni shifts awkwardly, not sure what to do. she leans down and lightly pokes your cheek again. "come on, y/n, wake up."

nothing.

with a tiny huff, she pokes you again, this time a bit harder. "seriously, you can’t just sleep all day. you’re going to be late!" she whisper-yells. 

you still don’t stir, and hanni finds herself smiling despite her frustration. you look so... soft like this. relaxed. carefree. she’s really tempted to lay down beside you now, more than before. she wants to pull the blanket over herself and close her eyes, pretending for just a moment that things are the way they used to be—before all this weirdness between you two. she could pretend there’s nothing on the schedule, she quite literally has free will, she could do it and nothing would stop her. 

but she can’t. she knows she can’t.

instead, she pokes your cheek one more time. "y/n," she whispers, leaning closer. "please get up."

without warning, you move, but instead of waking up, you grab hanni’s wrist and pull her closer, dragging her halfway onto your bed. she yelps, startled, but you don’t seem to notice. you just snuggle into her, wrapping your arm around her waist as if she’s your pillow, your face pressed against her stomach.

hanni freezes, her heart pounding in her chest. you’re still half-asleep, clearly not realizing what you’re doing, but that doesn’t stop the warmth from rushing to her cheeks. she feels like she’s on fire, caught between wanting to escape and wanting to stay right where she is. your warmth, your scent, the way your body feels against hers—it’s overwhelming.

"hanni?" you mumble groggily, eyes still closed. "what are you… doing?"

"uh," hanni stammers, trying to keep her voice steady. "you need to get up. you’re gonna be late."

but you don’t move, just hum in response, your hand moves to loosely hold hers. hanni swallows hard, her whole body tense as she tries to ignore the warmth of your skin, the soft feel of your fingers intertwined with hers.

this is too much.

"hanni?" you mumble again, voice thick with sleep, your hand instinctively pulling her a little closer. "just five more minutes."

hanni can barely breathe, her mind scrambling for some kind of excuse to get out of this without completely losing it. she manages to slip out of your hold, her heart pounding as she sits on the edge of your bed, trying to compose herself. "you need to get up now, y/n," she says, a little firmer this time.

you finally stir, blinking up at her with bleary eyes, confused by the sight of hanni sitting at the edge of your bed. "hanni? what are you… what are you doing here?"

she shifts awkwardly, trying to keep her tone casual. "you were sleeping in, and i came to wake you up. the others are already in the dining room."

you sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes as you look at her. something feels off between you two, a tension that wasn’t there before, something bigger than before. you can feel it too, even in your groggy state. the silence hangs heavy in the air, the unspoken distance between you making everything feel… strange.

"hey," you mumble, running a hand through your messy hair, "we, uh… haven’t really talked much lately, have we?"

hanni glances down at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers. "yeah," she mutters, her voice soft. "i guess we’ve both been kind of... distant."

you nod, still trying to shake off the sleep. "i don’t know why it’s been like that," you say, your voice quiet. "feels like something changed, and i don’t really get it. i’ve been wanting to talk to you, to be honest.”

hanni’s heart tightens at your words. she knows why she’s been distant—because you make her nervous, because she’s terrified of her feelings, because she doesn’t know how to act around you anymore. but she can’t say all that. not now. not like this.

"i’m sorry," hanni finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. "i didn’t mean to pull away. i just… i didn’t know how to handle things."

you look at her, a faint frown creasing your forehead. "handle what?"

hanni shrugs, avoiding your gaze. "just… everything. i guess i got overwhelmed, and instead of talking to you about it, i kind of shut you out. i didn’t mean to."

you’re quiet for a moment, processing her words. it doesn’t really make sense, but it’s something. "i thought you were mad at me," you admit softly. "i didn’t know what i did wrong."

hanni’s heart aches at that. "you didn’t do anything wrong," she says quickly, shaking her head. "it’s not you, y/n. it’s me. i’m sorry for making you feel that way."

the two of you sit in silence for a while, the tension slowly easing as you both realize how much you’ve missed each other. there’s still so much left unsaid, so many things neither of you are ready to admit yet, but this… this is a start.

"i missed you," you finally say, your voice quiet but sincere.

hanni looks up, her heart swelling at your words. "i missed you too."

the weight of the past few weeks lingers in the air, but for the first time in a while, it feels like things might be okay again. even if neither of you is ready to fully address the feelings you’re both clearly harboring, at least you’re talking. at least you’re trying.

and for now, that’s enough.

—

hanni and danielle sit side by side on the couch in the waiting room, both scrolling through their phones. it’s a quiet break, the kind they savor between the chaotic schedules, but their attention keeps drifting to where you’re seated, getting your makeup done. you’re chatting softly on the phone, smiling as you talk to your parents, completely at ease in the chair.

hanni, however, can’t seem to focus on anything else. her eyes flicker over to you every few seconds, as if drawn by some invisible force. she watches how you laugh quietly, the way the stylist’s brush glides over your face, how you seem so naturally pretty even in this hectic setting. her mind is still spinning from your recent talk, even though it was brief. it lingers with all the things unsaid, all the questions still hanging in the air.

next to her, danielle finally breaks the silence.

"so," she starts, her voice casual but curious, "did you and y/n talk?"

hanni’s fingers freeze mid-scroll, and she glances at danielle, unsure of how to answer. after a moment, she sighs. "yeah, we talked… sort of."

danielle raises an eyebrow. "sort of?"

hanni shifts in her seat, picking at the edge of her sleeve. "we addressed the distance. like, we apologized for being weird with each other, but… i don’t really know where to go from there. it’s like, we acknowledged it, but it didn’t fix everything. i still feel…" she trails off, struggling to find the right words. "i don’t know. confused, maybe?"

danielle watches her closely, nodding slowly in understanding. "well, that’s a start, right? at least you talked about it."

"yeah," hanni mutters, but there’s a tinge of uncertainty in her voice. she glances back at you, still on the phone, still pulling her attention without even trying. "but it doesn’t really feel settled, you know? like, we just put a band-aid over it."

danielle sighs softly, leaning back against the couch. "stuff like that is complicated," she says, almost as if she’s speaking from experience. then, after a moment of silence, she turns to hanni with a teasing smile. "by the way, you’ve been staring at y/n this entire time. i can’t believe she doesn’t know that you… you know,"

hanni’s face flushes, and she quickly looks away, crossing her arms defensively. "i was not."

danielle laughs, clearly not buying it. "uh-huh, sure. i’ve been watching you. every time she moves, your eyes follow. it’s like you’re in a drama, and she’s the lead you can’t get over."

"i’m just… i’m just making sure she’s okay," hanni tries to defend herself, though the heat rising in her cheeks betrays her. "she’s on the phone with her parents. what if something’s wrong?"

"oh, please," danielle says, her smirk growing. "you’re just using that as an excuse to admire her. you’ve been acting like this for weeks, hanni. just admit it. remember her prada post?"

hanni opens her mouth to argue, but the words die in her throat. she knows danielle’s right, and that makes it worse. instead of responding, she just sinks further into the couch, burying her face in her hands.

danielle pats her on the back with a chuckle. "don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. for now."

hanni groans, peeking through her fingers at you again. you’re still deep in conversation, oblivious to the way she’s been spiraling.

"you’ve got it bad," danielle teases softly, her tone more understanding now. "but it’s okay. maybe just… give it time. you two are good together, even if you don’t know where to go from here yet."

hanni nods, grateful for danielle’s support, but her eyes drift back to you. she can’t help it—there’s something about you that keeps pulling her in, no matter how hard she tries to resist.

—

it’s late, and the dorm is quiet. hanni sits on her bed, phone in hand, staring at the screen. she’s been thinking about you all week (she’s always thinking about you), the tension that had built between you two finally dissipating after your brief talk. things have felt… fine, normal even, but it’s almost too normal. like the distance you both addressed had just been covered up with another flimsy bandaid, never fully resolved. 

the problem is, she can’t stop thinking about you. and danielle, who’s oddly observant, keeps urging her to clear the air.

"just talk to her," danielle had said earlier, as they watched you laugh with the others during practice. "y/n wouldn’t let this mess up your friendship, you know that."

and now, as hanni sits there, her fingers hover over her phone screen, wondering if she should actually text you. she taps out a simple message before she can second guess herself:

hanni: you up?

the reply comes almost instantly: 

y/n: yeah, what's up?

hanni: can’t sleep

y/n: aw me neither i was calling my mom earlier and after that i couldn’t close my eyes for more than a minute

hanni: :-(  sorry to hear

hanni doesn’t know what else to say, but you beat her to the chase.

y/n: come over?

her heart races for no reason, and before she knows it, she’s standing in front of your room. she hesitates for a moment, then knocks softly before opening the door.

you’re sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone. you’re worried that you scared her off again after being left on read. thankfully there’s a knock at your door a minute later, and when you see her, you offer a small smile. "hey."

"h-hey," hanni says, feeling a little awkward as she steps inside and sits on the edge of your bed. there’s a brief silence, the kind where you can both feel the unsaid words hanging in the air. she picks at her fingernails, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye. you’re still in your pajamas, hair a little messy, looking so comfortable that it’s hard to look away.

after a beat, you exhale, breaking the tension. "fuck this," you mutter, shifting to lay down on the bed, patting the space next to you. "come on."

hanni blinks, then, after a moment’s hesitation, lies down beside you. the bed feels small with both of you so close, but she’s trying to act normal, like her heart isn’t doing backflips just from being near you. you both stare up at the ceiling for a moment before you start talking, and to hanni’s relief, it feels natural.

you talk about everything—the group, your recent worries about the new routines, the photoshoots you’ve got lined up, how excited you are about the new choreography. hanni listens, nodding along, occasionally chiming in about her own thoughts. it feels comfortable, almost like it used to be, like there’s nothing between you but shared conversation.

"i’m really liking the new choreo," you say, turning your head slightly to look at her. "it’s intense, but it’s fun, right?"

hanni nods, her voice soft. "yeah, i love it. i think it’s one of our best routines."

there’s a pause, the kind that feels more like a breath than an interruption. she glances at you, and for a moment, everything feels lighter. like maybe this is enough—just talking, just being close like this.

"you’ve been doing great, by the way," you add quietly, eyes meeting hers, and suddenly both of you are all too hyperaware of how close and physical this is. "i know things have been weird, but i’m glad we’re good."

hanni swallows, her throat feeling tight as she stares at you. for a moment, she considers saying more, opening up about everything she’s been feeling. about how she’s been avoiding you because being close makes her too nervous, how danielle’s been pushing her to be honest, how she’s been daydreaming about you too much for her own good; she considers dropping the fact that she’s in love with you. but instead, she just gives you a small, appreciative smile.

"yeah," she whispers, her voice barely above a breath. "i’m glad too."

maybe it’s because it’s late and you’re too tired to keep pretending, sick of shrinking into some shell. maybe it’s because hanni is right there, looking like a dream, even more than that. maybe you’re young, stupid, and undeniably in love with her. the tension has been building all night, and before you can stop yourself, the words leave your lips, making your chest feel impossibly tight.

“i need to be honest with you,” you murmur, picking at your fingers beneath the blanket. “and you can pull away and leave after i say it.”

hanni frowns, sitting up slightly. “what?”

you swallow hard, the weight of your confession heavy in your throat. you sit up and put your face in your hands. “hanni, i like you. i like you the way people do in love songs. i like you like people yearn for each other in half the songs on your playlist. i don’t know any other way to say it, i’m—i’m sorry.”

there’s a beat of silence, a long, agonizing pause where you feel your heart shrinking into itself. hanni stares at you, her brows twitching, mouth slightly open, and all you can do is pray that this isn’t the moment everything falls apart.

“are you serious?”

you flinch. “i’m sorry—”

“no, no.” hanni shakes her head, turning away to stare up at the ceiling, hands covering her face. "i need a minute."

your heart shatters, the weight of rejection sinking deep. “hanni, i’m so sor—”

“don’t be.” she lifts her hands just enough to show her forehead, a wide smile breaking across her face. "oh my god. i like you too. i’ve been trying to tell you, i didn’t know how. danielle has been telling me to confess for weeks, but i was so scared."

your breath catches. "wait—seriously?"

hanni nods, still grinning, and suddenly everything shifts. the tension that had been suffocating you both breaks, leaving the air light and giddy. you both can’t look at each other for a moment, the sheer happiness boiling up inside making you fidget, trying to contain the laughter threatening to spill out. it’s a nice contrast from the (what seemed like) years of pining.

your hearts are pounding, faces flushed, and the awkward energy between you only makes it all the more real. now you’re both sitting next to each other like two middle schoolers in love—something like that—giddy, flustered, and shocked.

hanni glances at you through her lashes, then covers her face again, laughing softly. “i can’t believe this.”

“i can’t believe it either,” you admit, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

for a second, neither of you move. then, on a whim, you reach out and take her hand, the touch sending a rush of warmth through your body. hanni turns to you, her eyes meeting yours with that same mix of nervous excitement. it feels like time slows down, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. and before either of you can talk yourselves out of it, you lean in, your lips meeting hers in a soft, tentative kiss.

the world stops for a moment.

when you pull back, both of you are breathless, grinning like fools.

"oh my god," hanni says, eyes wide, voice barely above a whisper. “was that too quick? did we rush it?”

you laugh softly. "probably. but i think i would like, die if we hadn’t… yeah.”

without saying anything else, you both lay back down, facing each other on the bed, your fingers still intertwined. it feels easy now, like a weight has lifted, and the giddiness that lingers makes it impossible to stop smiling.

eventually, the talking fades, and you both drift off, tangled together, feeling a sense of peace that neither of you had realized you were missing.

her phone is tucked awkwardly between her ear and shoulder, fingers tapping at the laptop keyboard while scrolling through lecture notes. “uh, yeah… chicken lo mein with extra chicken… and um also…” she squinted at the calendar on her screen. “what was i supposed to— oh, right… midterm next wednesday. right, cool.”

on the other end you listened patiently, smiling to yourself and holding back a small giggle as she mumbled half an order while clearly being busy with other things.

“wait, sorry!” she apologizes quickly, realizing she hadn’t ordered what minji and haerin had asked for. “also six steamed pork dumplings— no, twelve please. shrimp fried rice and… wait, i already said that, right? ugh—anyway, just, yeah, add that too.”

you ring it all up, smiling wider. “anything else?”

there’s a brief moment of silence until you hear, “huh? oh, no, that’s it.” she replies absentmindedly. she had been paying no attention at all, flipping through her notes and muttering to herself quietly about what she needed to review before the weekend. “uh, yeah, thanks—love you, bye.”

another beat of silence passes before you chime in, voice playful. “love you too.”

you could practically hear her freeze, the realization hits her. you hear a gasp on the other end of the phone, sharp and followed by a small curse.

‘w-wait, what?” hanni stammers, cheeks heating up like crazy. everything hanni had been bombarded with halts. her hands freeze on the laptop, her phone almost slips from her shoulder, and the papers she had been holding with the other hand have all landed on teh counter. everything hanni had been thinking about—midterm wednesday, lecture notes, module 2.2, chapter three reading—dissapear from her mind in a blink.

she hears a laugh on the other end, then a voice that sends a shiver down her spine. 

“your total is $28.41, by the way.”

“god, i’m sorry.” hanni rushes out the apology, face palming herself. “i didn’t mean it— not that i don’t love you! well, i mean, i don’t know you, so i don’t love you. not that i hate you! no hard feelings. i’m not saying you’re— okay i’m, i’m going to go. bye. thank you. sorry.”

hanni presses the red button on her phone, ending the call and cringing to herself. hanni is more than glad that her friends in the living room hadn’t heard the most embarassing phonecall of her life. if any of them were to witness it, she’d never live it down. her cheeks are fuming against her hand; she’s a mess, she really needs to stop tackling twelve things at once even though it brings her some type of comfort—less chaos during lots of chaos makes it seem like something manageable.

she clicks through a bunch of tabs, skims through a few lines on her paper, and then closes her laptop. she does this while being distracted by the whole one minute interaction from earlier, shooting herself in the head mentally everytime she thinks of it.

less than twenty minutes later, the delivery guy shows up. hanni knows it’s not the person on the phone, because when the man speaks, it’s not the same voice that sent a weird shiver down her spine when she realized they said “love you too” back to her.

she takes the two bags over to her living room, setting them down in front of two ravenous students—otherwise known as her best friends danielle and minji—watching their eyes sparkle just from the sight. she rolls her eyes at them, sitting down against her small couch and leaning against as they waste no time to dig in and unbox.

hanni’s the last one to reach in and grab something to munch on—mistake number one. mistake number two is catching minji furrowing her brows at a piece of paper, pickiing it up and reading, instead of stopping her before she can do any of that.

her best friend reads it outloud in a confused tone: “i put two extra fortune cookies in there,” minji begins, danielle scoots over to read too. “hope your fortune is as sweet as your voice. love, the girl you don’t hate, but don’t love :(“

“p.s. you sound cute when you’re caught off guard ;-)”

minji finishes reading, and then the two of her friends look up, staring down hanni.

“hanni, what’s this?”

“i— give me that!” hanni says, face burning up. she swipes the paper from minji’s hand, looking at the paper and covering it with her hand like her friends hadn’t just read it together. she cringes, closing her eyes and falling down on teh floor. “i’m an idiot.”

“hanniiiiii” danielle whines, scooting over to shake her by her shoulders while she’s on the floor. “what’s that about? do you have an admirer or something?”

“i can’t tell you, i just, i’m so stupid.”

“dude, what?” minji questions, completely ignoring the steaming, delicious food on the coffee table. “explain—now.”

hanni feels her heart beating like crazy, then she gives in and sits up. her face is most definitely beet red, maybe even worse when she glances at the note again.

“i accidentally said ‘love you, bye’ to the worker on the phone.” hanni says quietly, shaking her head. “and she said it back.”

“she what?” danielle and minji say in unison, looking at her in disbelief.

hanni lets out a weird noise, overwhelmed and flustered beyond words. she looks down at the note again through the spaces in her fingers as she covers her face, not noticing any name or anything that might lead to another encounter with the mystery girl on the other end of the line. this disappoints her a bit, but even if she were to have a name or number or anything, she wouldn’t be able to face you. 

after getting teased to death, the trio indulges in food after a very long and tiring study session. the conversation shifts to annoying professors, upcoming midterms, plans for when they all have free time—but hanni is still thinking of you, oddly enough.

—

a little over a week from that day, hanni orders takeout again. she’s somehow forgotten (for the most part) her embarrassing interaction, probably because her midterm is tomorrow and she’s completely forgotten to eat. her phone sits in between her shoulder and ear again, head tilted awkwardly to rush out an order. 

“alpha waves, altruism, anorexia nervosa… shit, sorry. um yeah, i’d like six steamed dumplings please, pork. umm… chow mein— no, scratch that. shrimp fried rice please.” her words are hurried out her mouth as she furrows her brows at her laptop screen, clicking through slides and trying to comprehend two units of psychology in one night. “that’s it, thank you, love you.”

hanni stops in place, frozen in shock. there is no way.

“wow, you must be smitten, huh?” she hears on the end of the line, followed by a small chuckle. “love you too, ‘hp.’” hanni had never used her full name when ordering things, well, only food. she always had this fear of sharing her legal name unless it was for unconsumable orders. “your total is $14.89 by the way.” 

you hear a groan on the end of the line, followed by what sounds like pens and pencils hitting the floor.

“...you alright?”

hanni, caught off guard by the whole conversation for the most part, but also the fact that you noticed how she had just spilled half her supplies onto her apartment floor, answers with a simple, “yeah.”

“that’s good to hear.”

“i’m really sorry, again, for the… you know.”

“your undying love for me?”

“what?” hanni says, completely disregarding the pens, pencils, and highlighters on the floor. “i- no! no. i’m not in love with you! i didn’t mean it—”

“i’m teasing, hp.” she hears the smile in your voice. “would you like an extra fortune? last time i had heard from you i remember something about a midterm.”

“you remembered?” it sounds a little pathetic, maybe desperate coming from hanni, but hanni couldn’t care less. she’s tired, overwhelmed, and has gone over so much work in the span of a few days that she really can’t think or function correctly.

“yeah, not many people sound as young as you. it’s usually a parent or something ordering for their family at this time. plus, you made my shift.” you confess, “i thought it was cute, you know, how frantic you had ordered your meal.”

“i’m really sorry about that, like seriously, i’m really, really sorry.”

“it’s okay hp.”

“right, yeah. i uh, i have to study. sorry— i don’t know why i’m saying sorry, ugh, sorry. thanks, bye.”

“no ‘love you?’” you ask, and before hanni can answer you respond, “kidding. i’ll throw in two fried wontons, have a good night hp.”

the call ends and hanni blinks a few times as she tries to process what just happened. she’s embarrassed beyond words, just as flustered too. there might even be a blush on her cheeks, she can’t stop thinking about how smooth you were with your teasing, plus the way your voice sounded. 

hanni thinks it’s the midterm getting to her, the stress. she cleans up the mess on the floor and goes through her vocabulary notes. she hears a knock on the door twenty minutes later which makes her jump in her seat.

she grabs the bag of fried rice and dumplings, placing it on the counter before taking everything out. hanni hears her stomach rumble a bit, she definitely underestimated how hungry she was.

before hanni digs in, she notices two fortune cookies and a note at the bottom. she completely ignores the cookies, grabbing the note and opening it up to see the same small handwriting from last time:

“i’m guessing your initials are hp? i could be wrong… 

hp like harry potter? it makes sense because you’re magical.

good luck on your midterm! hopefully you’ll order for a post-midterm celebration.

p.s. there are extra fried wontons ;p”

hanni smiles as she reads the note. pause. hanni stops smiling immediately when she becomes aware of the fact that she’s smiling because of a note. a note from a mystery woman on the other end of the line.

—

midterms are over, all of them. hanni had gone through all four midterms. all four. hanni’s burnt out to oblivion, finding comfort in her bed as soon as she gets back from her last midterm. she checks her messages and is greeted by the groupchat she’s in with danielle and minji.

minji: FINALLY i feel like a fish that’s been gutted out it’s not even finals lowk wasn’t even that bad actually how about you guys

danielle: my midterm is in an hour!  wish me luck :D how was yours hanni?

hanni: i’m about to PASS OUT why did i choose forensics

minji: because you’re a nerd don’t let one biology midterm screw you over who’s going to take care of my body parts when i suddenly get murdered

danielle: woah quite a situation, no?

hanni: uagghshhskafhjk i’m going to sleep GOODNIGHT do you guys want to come over later dani do you need time to unwind before you come over

danielle: no that’s alright! i find your apartment quite cozy i’ll just crash there right after, thanks han okay i’m going to review a bit more wish me luck!

minji: good luck mo dani!! you can do it  we love you

hanni: good luck! you’ve got this

danielle:  ❤️

hanni smiles at danielle’s message, she’s always so positive—even through text, even during these trying times. she decides to pass out for almost two hours, waking up groggy and finding herself almost tripping all the way back to her couch in the living room. she sighs as she collapses onto the cushions, waiting for minji and danielle to come over.

then her thoughts race back to you, embarassingly enough. she thinks about your stupid flirting, your stupid voice, and the stupid giggle she could hear through the phone. she thinks about how stupid she is for smiling, how stupid she is. everything is stupid.

hanni is fantasizing about some random person she’s ordered affordable chinese food from, she doesn’t even know her name. 

(hanni’s brain is mush.)

instinctively, she goes through her recent calls, dialing the number of the restaurant that serves her favorite dumplings. 

it rings for a few seconds before someone answers, “hello?”

the voice isn’t familiar whatsoever, hanni feels a strange discomfort in her stomach. 

hanni doesn’t realize that she hasn’t spoken a word until the second “hello?” is uttered. she breaks from her trance.

“hi, hello, yeah, hi.”

“hello, what can i get you?”

hanni purses her lips before replying, “oh, um.” she sounds like a sad child. “fried rice, i’ll do chicken. wontons, fried, twelve of them. could i also get beef-broccoli lo mein?”

she hears nothing for about three seconds, then a hum. “got it, could i get a name for that order?”

“hp.” 

“y/n’s ‘hp?’” who the hell is y/n? hanni thinks to herself. 

“what?”

“nevermind.” the worker says with her monotone voice. “will that be it?”

“yeah, thank you.” hanni doesn’t say ‘love you’ this time. she tells herself it’s because she’s not preoccupied with at least three things in that same moment, but a part of it is because it’s not the same voice that she had been expecting to hear. “what’s the total?”

“$24.12. it’ll be over in a little more than twenty minutes.”

“okay, thank you.” hanni says, and instead of hearing something snarky back—she hears a hum, and then the call ends.

…

you walk into work later than usual, one of your midterms had been pushed a bit later, so your hours were cut off. 

as you walk in, you catch your coworker’s head snap up. as soon as she realizes it’s you, she relaxes a bit.

“good evening haerin!” you beam, somehow upbeat and lively even after your grueling calculus midterm. “miss me?”

“just had to take more calls than i ever do in one week.” she sighs, watching you move over behind the counter and push your bag under the desk. “so maybe a little.”

“awww, you missed me so much.”

“shut up.” haerin groans, sitting down in the little chair where no customers can catch her. “you know what you missed?”

“what?”

“your girlfriend called—miss hp.”

“hp?!” you say it like you’ve just missed the train that comes every two hours. “seriously? did she say ‘love you?’”

“of course that’s what you’re so animated about.” haerin rolls her eyes at you, shrugging. “she didn’t.”

a sigh of relief escapes your lips, a very exaggerated one for that matter. then you frown, sitting down in the spinny chair nearby and rotating yourself in your seat like a little kid.

“i can’t believe i missed her.”

“you’re actually insane for flirting with a customer.”

“she has a cute voice.”

“you don’t even know her y/n.” haerin scoots over, but only to flick you in the forehead. she leans back in her seat, smirking. you rub your skin and pout at her, making her roll her eyes once more before she continues on, “she could be old, crinkly, and married or something. what if she’s like… balding? what if her teeth are falling out and she—”

“why are you assuming the worst haerin. you’re so— whatever. she sounds my age, i guess. it’s just fun to mess around, it’s cute.”

“i will never get you.” your coworker crosses her arms, jumping at the sound of the phone ringing. “could you get that? i’ve run out of social battery.”

“it’s a phone call haerin.”

“talking to you drained me already.”

you frown, making her giggle at you.

—

the next time hanni calls is two days later, because she’s a loser that can’t seem to get the thought of the chinese restaurant employee who keeps flirting with her (albeit smoothly) out of her head. the phone rings twice, then someone picks up, and hanni waits eagerly.

“hi, pledis plates, how can i help?” it’s you, it’s you. the memory of hearing ‘y/n’s hp?’ pops up in her head—could you be y/n? you have to be.

“hi.” hanni says simply, biting the inside of her lip. she hears a small chuckle on the other end of the line, slightly relieved.

“if it isn’t hp.” it comes out cheeky, making hanni blush. “missed you, you know?”

“what?”

“did you miss me too?”

“i–” yes. hanni did miss you, not like she’d admit it, at least out loud. “i’d like to order dumplings.”

“harsh.” you respond jokingly, “six, pork, and steamed, got it.”

“you memorized it?” 

“you ordered it last time.”

hanni can’t help but laugh, smiling as she holds the phone against her ear. “you must be head over heels to be remembering my order.”

“you’re the one who confessed first though?”

“that was a mistake.”

“uh huh.” amusement is laced in your tone. “it’ll be five dollars, should be there in less than twenty.”

“great.”

 hanni doesn’t know what else to say. you both pause, letting silence and the faint static ring in your ears.

“what happened to the usual goodbye?”

hanni feels herself shrinking in her bed, feet kicking slightly, blush forming. god, she’s head over heels, she’s insane, she doesn’t know a single thing about you other than the fact that you have a really endearing voice and that your flirting is enough to have her smiling like an idiot.

“thanks, bye.” neither of you hang up after hanni says it, knowing there’s something missing. hanni pinches the bridge of her nose, feeling her stomach closing in on herself and simultaneously doing a flip. her heart nearly jumps out of her chest as she chokes out, “love you.”

“i was waiting for that one.”

“a-are you— really?”

“yeah.” you simply state, and you say nothing else but, “bye hp.”

“you’re not going to say it back?”

you grin to yourself. hanni hears a small, amused laugh fromthe other end, sending a shiver down her spine. “i don’t fold that easy, maybe next time.” you hang up right after, leaving hanni dumbfounded.

hanni looks at her phone like you’re going to call back, but you don’t. she drops the phone on her bed, putting both hands over her face and feeling her skin burn against her palms. she groans, then groans again, and sighs finally. 

maybe next time. there’s going to be a next time—hanni has that at least.

—

hanni calls again the next monday, around two days after the last call. it’s the same day she had first said the infamous ‘love you’ to you on accident. she calls at around the same time, laptop on her lap as she taps lightly on the backspace key, though not enough to actually press it. she wonders to herself for a moment, is the dent in her wallet really worth it? has she really reached rock bottom?

“pledis plates, what would you like to order?”

it’s not you. hanni sinks into the cushion of her couch and feels herself deflate. she can’t always call with the assumption that you’ll pick up, there are other employees after all. this time, it’s the same monotone voice she had heard before, a stark contrast to your flirtatious, lively tone.

“hi, i’d just like—”

“ah, hp.”

“how did you—”

“i remember your voice from last time. y/n was quite sad when she realized she’d missed your call by twenty minutes.”

“what do you mean?”

“she came into work late, midterms or something.”

midterms. the information alone gives her the assumption that you’re also in college, maybe even in her grade, and if she’s pushing it maybe you even go to her university. she conjures up a better picture of you now, not quite clear or concrete, but it’s something.

“is she a student?”

“i don’t know if i can leak that, she told me to be very secretive about her. i don’t think you’ll have trouble finding out more though, she never shuts up.”

hanni snickers, so you’re a talker too. yeah, hanni’s into that.

“well now i know her name.”

“do what you will with that.” the girl mutters. hanni hears a small sigh, then another response, “hey, y/n was curious about you. are you in high school?”

“what— no! do i sound like it?”

“you sound young.” the girl on the end of the line—haerin—shrugs. she continues, “y/n thinks you’re the same age as her, she also assumes you’re cute. i guess no one will know until a miracle happens.”

“i can’t tell if you’re insulting me.” hanni chuckles awkwardly, but haerin doesn’t respond.  “but if it helps, anyway, i’m a sophomore in college. tell her i’m interested in forensics.”

“okay.”

silence follows again, but haerin hasn’t hung up, and hanni still holds the phone against her ear expecting something more. hanni decides to take another step, asking, “y/n, how is… could you like, describe her?”

“physically or…? well, i can do a brief description. to start off: annoying, jokes a lot, pretends to be all mopey when insulted. physically: taller than me—i’d say taller than a lot of women. she has a nice smile i guess, but it’s the kind you want to wipe off her face, ugh, it’s like she’s making fun of you when she does it. her hair is also always a little messy, she says its for the ‘appeal,’ but i see none.”

hanni fights back a giggle. this woman has just spilled a good amount, a perfect amount in hanni’s eyes (any amount is alright, anything more than a name). this ‘y/n’ is tall, taller than most women, and hanni is shorter than most; hanni is into that, she loves taller girls. and messy hair too? that’s cute, probably. as long as it’s not the same type of messy that men rock around—men that barely shower or do anything. essentially: compsci majors—then hanni will be alright. you sound wonderful.

“did you want to order anything? or are did you just want to flirt with the idiot.”

“hey! hey, hey. lets not— ugh, okay, could i just get um, six pork dumplings—steamed.”

“okay.” the girl says quietly, and then hanni hears some light tapping. “six dumplings for hp.”

“hanni. it’s hanni. my name is hanni.”

“got it the first time.”

“you’re bright, aren’t you?”

“your order is going to be there later, bye.” and then the girl hangs up, leaving hanni speechless.

—

hanni waits a few days to call, because she doesn’t remember dialing on tuesdays or wednesdays and hearing a voice that brings her a little thrill. she leans against her counter waiting for a response, then lights up when she hears,

“pledis plates, how can i help?”

“y/n.” hanni says, almost relieved. “hi.”

“hi hanni.” your coworker must’ve leaked that conversation, hanni thinks. “nice to hear from you.”

“likewise.”

“can i get six dumplings? pork and—”

“---steamed, yes.” you’re smiling as you say it, like an eager little child. “nothing else?”

“no.”

“alright.” you respond, clicking two tabs and ringing up her order. you don’t give her the cost or anything, staring at the screen and deciding to huff out, “forensics?” you’re starting a real conversion now, what a step.

hanni is smiling hard, she’s so giddy that she’s twirling a piece of hair around her pointer finger. 

“yeah, i think it’s nice.”

“cute.” you mumble, “i’m studying kinesiology.”

“is that so?”

“unfortunately.” you say lightheartedly. hanni doesn’t know what to respond with, she wants to continue the conversation and hear your voice longer, but there’s nothing she can think of. does she ask for your number? how you are? hanni is useless, she’s always been useless when it came to girls.

“hanni?”

“y-yes?” hanni cringes at the slight stutter.

“your total is five dollars. it’ll be there soon.”

“oh,” hanni says sadly, “i mean, um. okay.”

and then she hangs up, a little defeated, but there’s always a next time…right?

when her food gets there, she hurriedly pays the delivery driver, making her wallet cry even more. there’s a note in the bag, along with two fortune cookies. the note has your name and a number on it, making hanni gasp and smile to herself again. there’s a little ‘text me, miss hanni. i’m looking forward to it.’ and as soon as hanni reads it, she clasps her hands together, squeals quietly into them, giggles, and kicks her feet in the air.

hanni tries to do some schoolwork, managing to get ten minutes of reading down, a few sentences jotted down, and then the rest of the time she’s thinking about her new saved contact. she hasn’t texted you yet, mainly because she had been overthinking about what and when to text you. she contemplates texting danielle and minji about it, but she’d just be teased. 

this is the first time in a while since hanni’s gotten anywhere close to something romantic, or maybe this is platonic, but the flirting doesn’t support that idea. she’s tried tinder—once, once and never again—and going to parties. nothing works out, none of them make her giddy and giggly like this. 

before she knows it, two hours have passed, and so she decides to send a simple “hi, this is hanni!’ 

too enthusiastic? too bland? too basic? ugh. hanni groans, lying on her couch in an uncomfortable position.

you reply almost immediately with ‘hey, i’m off in twenty minutes. let’s call?’ and hanni has to put the phone to her chest, looking up at the ceiling in disbelief.

twenty minutes passes by too quickly, hanni hasn’t even figured out what to say. she looks at her phone, waiting for you to call, and when you do, she short circuits; hanni drops her phone on her face.

“hello?” it’s you.

it’s you.

“hey. um, how was work?”

“aw, even asking me about work.” she can hear the smirk in your tone, rolling her eyes as she smiles to herself. “it was fine, my favorite part was when this girl ordered pork dumplings though. she has a cute voice.”

“is that so?”

“yeah. hey, can i ask you something?”

“what is it?”

“i work tomorrow, but its the morning shift. i end at one, i was you know… wondering if you… wanted…” you sound nervous, this is a first for hanni. “if you wanted to share some dumplings, free of charge.”

hanni covers her mouth almost immediately, suppressing any signs of her freaking out.

“are you asking me out?”

“only if you say yes.”

you hear a giggle before you hear a “yes.”

“really?”

“mhm.” hanni smiles again, thinking of something that’ll leave you just as flustered. “okay, well… i’ll see your tomorrow. bye, love you.”

“love you too hanni.”

—

minji’s usually the one who picks up orders if it’s not delivery, and hanni is almost always taking the orders. so when hanni enters the shop for the first time, she’s quite fond of the smell of ingredients being stir fried or steamed, as well as the interior of the place. it’s very nice inside, hopefully the nice person she’s been meaning to see shows up soon.

there’s a girl by the counter, she’s only slightly taller than hanni, and her eyes are oddly cat-like. she looks up at her with those eyes, then shoots a small smile.

“hi, how can i help?” this is who the monotone voice belongs to. her image somehow matches perfectly with the voice.

“hi, i’m hanni.” as soon as she introduces herself, the workers eyes widen.

“woah, you’re real.”

“surprising, i know.”

“y/n is changing in the back—she was eager to get off fives minutes early so she wouldn’t be in uniform when you showed up.” haerin explains, shaking her head. “it’s nice to meet you, you’re very pretty.”

“thank you! i appreciate it. you’re pretty as well.”

haerin doesn’t get to respond. the person who does respond is the girl walking up to the register, scooting haerin to the side with her knuckles and tapping at the screen. the girl isn’t in uniform, and she’s also really good looking. 

you run a hand through your hair as you clock out through the system. “hey, did hanni ever stop by?” you ask haerin, not looking up from the screen because you’ve typed your code in wrong. 

“look up idiot.” your coworker snickers, and when you do, you’re met with the most gorgeous girl you’ve ever seen.

you notice her right away, hair flowing down past her chest, curtain bangs perfectly framing her face. her plump lips and striking features make you pause. sure, you expected her to be pretty—maybe even conventionally attractive, everyone is in their own way—but seeing her in person? she’s beyond that, practically model material. my god. your lips part slightly in surprise, and you catch yourself, quickly swallowing as you both smile at each other at the same time.

you clock out—thankfully not typing in the wrong code again from nervousness—and step out from behind the counter. a small tote bag hangs from your shoulder, and a plastic bag dangles in your hand. you glance down at it.

“twelve dumplings—steamed, pork, everything you like—for the pair.”

hanni’s smile lights up her face, and you can't help but think about how adorable she looks, how effortlessly charming she is.

“why thank you,” she says, her voice soft and playful. it sounds better in person than through the phone.

“you’re gorgeous, by the way,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, still marveling at her. “like, i expected you to be pretty, but… wow.” you can tell haerin is fake gagging or rolling her eyes or something like that from behind, she’s probably already on her way to avoid witnessing this interaction.

hanni blushes instantly, the red creeping up her cheeks. if she were at home, she’d probably be giggling and kicking her feet, but for now, she just looks away shyly, smiling. “thanks, you’re really cute too.”

“you think?”

“yes.” she meets your eyes, still flushed. “can we eat? i’m hungry.”

“right, yeah. i hope it’s not too forward, but is the park nearby good? we can settle down and, um… talk more. you know, more than just about your usual order.”

hanni laughs—you might die right then and there—before responding, “that’s perfect,” and then she nods, looking at you. her eyes are soft and warm and wonderful.

“great,” you echo.

“great,” she repeats, a small laugh escaping her.

you both walk side by side, still a little stiff at first, the mutual attraction between you creating an unspoken tension. but as you settle into the rhythm of conversation, the initial awkwardness fades away, replaced by the easy flow of natural chemistry. each step feels lighter, the distance between you shrinking with every passing word.

—

—

—

hanni hears a knock at her door, confused because she hadn’t expected any guests other than minji and danielle—who are already in her living room leeching off her netflix account. 

she opens it to see you, which immediately brings a smile to her face. she almost leaps over to hug you, nearly making you drop the large bag in your hand.

“someone missed me.”

“shut up.” hanni says before pecking your lips. she looks at you, your dorky, adorable face, and then presses another longer kiss. “come in babe. i didn’t expect you to be here.”

“i got off early because i had to cover. i wanted to surprise you, and i know you had company over.”

“oh yeah,” hanni had almost forgotten that her best friends had been there.

she leads you over, helping you take off your tote and setting it on her counter. her friends catch the two of you from their peripheral and wave, then their eyes light up at the sight of the familiar bag in your hand. you set it down, placing a the container of fried rice, lo mein, and dumpling down as they treat you like a savior.

“thank you so much, i owe you my first born.” danielle says, giving you a playful pout.

minji snickers, scooting up to the coffee table. “you’re the best thing that’s happened to us—to hanni.”

you look over to your girlfriend, that’s right, she’s your girlfriend. hanni is rolling her eyes at you, pushing your shoulder, and then pulling you in by the wrist to sit next to her. she’s not one for pda—especially in front of danielle and minji—but under the table her fingers graze your skin, which makes you smile.