yuyu

You’re sprawled on the bed in your shared dorm room, surrounded by an organized chaos of open textbooks, scribbled notebooks, and your laptop balanced precariously on your knees. The literature assignment has you trapped: an endless essay on symbolism in modern poetry that feels like it’ll never end. You’ve been at it for hours, the afternoon sun filtering through the semi-sheer curtains, bathing the room in a warm, golden tone. The air smells faintly of vanilla from the candle you lit to “help you focus better,” though really it’s just distracting you with its constant flickering. Your fingers fly across the keyboard, but your mind keeps wandering, frustrated by words that refuse to flow the way they should.

You don’t hear the door open at first—Jiwoo always enters with that silent grace, a leftover from her ballet years—but suddenly she’s there, closing the door with a soft click and dropping her practice bag to the floor with a dull thud. She’s holding a small box wrapped in plain paper, and her smile is that perfect mix of shy and confident that always makes you pause whatever you’re doing. Her hair is still a little damp from the post-practice shower, falling in loose waves around her face, and she’s wearing an oversized gray t-shirt that reaches mid-thigh, paired with tight black leggings that show off her long, toned legs. Barefoot, she moves with that natural elegance, like the whole world is her stage.

“Hi, love,” she says softly, shaking off the last traces of practice exhaustion as she approaches the bed. She climbs up in one fluid motion, sitting cross-legged beside you, her knee brushing lightly against yours. “Looks like you’re at war with that essay again. How’s it going? Have you cracked the rose symbolism or whatever yet?”

You laugh, a low, relieved sound, and close the laptop partway to give her more room. You lean your head back against the headboard and look at her, noticing how her warm brown eyes shine with that quiet intensity she saves just for you.

“Worse than that. I’m stuck on the part about how poets use nature to represent repressed desire. Sounds sexy in theory, but writing it is actual torture. And you? How was practice today? Did the girls drive you insane with their endless energy?”

Jiwoo sighs dramatically, but with that crooked smile that makes her look even more adorable. She leans back a little against the headboard, carefully opening the box to reveal a handful of fresh strawberries—bright red, glossy, perfectly ripe. The sweet-tart scent immediately fills the air, mingling with the vanilla.

“Exhausting, but good. Yuha almost ate it during the new choreo—you know, that floor drop part—and A-na wouldn’t stop cracking jokes about how Carmen blushes every time Stella mentions anything religious. We nailed it in the end, but I’m dead.” She picks up a strawberry between her fingers, inspects it for a second, and bites into it. Red juice drips slightly down her lower lip. She licks it off with the tip of her tongue—a casual move that makes you swallow hard.

“Want one? I got them at that organic market on the way. They’re amazing—sweet and juicy… just like you when you’re not stressed out by homework.”

You nod, leaning in so she can feed you one from her hand. Her fingers brush yours on purpose, an electric touch that sends tingles up your arm. As you chew, the conversation flows easily, the way it always does with Jiwoo: the organized, straightforward leader off-stage who’s your anchor—attentive and warm. You tell her about your boring day in class, how the professor rambled about metaphors for a full hour; she laughs and fires back with group anecdotes, like how Ian insisted on throwing in an improvised ballet step to the routine and Juun backed him up just to watch the chaos unfold. “I ended up telling them to chill or we’d never finish,” she says, rolling her eyes fondly. She passes you another strawberry, and you notice how her gaze keeps drifting to your lips every time you bite, how her hand “accidentally” lands on your thigh, fingers tracing soft circles over the fabric of your shorts.

The mood shifts subtly: the air feels heavier, the casual chat now laced with something deeper. Jiwoo picks up another strawberry, but instead of eating it herself, her expression turns intense—that predatory look she gets when she takes off her glasses (though she isn’t wearing them today). Without a word, she moves with that dancer’s fluidity, twisting and straddling you on the bed. Her body weight presses you down into the mattress—warm, commanding—her hips slotting perfectly against yours, knees bracketing your thighs. You feel the heat of her skin through the thin fabric, her breath close to your face. “Try this,” she murmurs, low and husky, holding the strawberry right against your lips.

You take it between your teeth, the sweet juice bursting in your mouth, but before you can fully bite, Jiwoo leans in and bites it from the other side. Her lips brush yours in the process. Red juice drips down her chin, splattering onto your shirt, and she doesn’t waste time: she closes the distance, licking the juice from your mouth in a deep, strawberry-flavored kiss. Her tongue pushes in, claiming space, exploring urgently while her hands tangle in your hair to keep you close, tugging gently to tilt your head. You moan against her lips, the kiss turning wild—teeth grazing, ragged breaths mingling, the tart-sweet taste flooding everything.

She breaks the kiss only to gasp against your neck, trailing wet kisses down your collarbone as her hands slide to your shirt. She yanks it up—not down—with a firm but careful pull, exposing your chest to the cool room air. She grabs another strawberry from the box beside you, squeezes it lightly between her fingers, and lets cold drops of juice fall directly onto your hardened nipples. The contrast makes you arch, a sharp gasp escaping your lips—cold against heat, sweet against sensitive skin. “You look so delicious covered in my favorite fruit…” Jiwoo whispers, her voice vibrating against your skin before she lowers her head. Her hot tongue circles one nipple slowly, sucking gently at first, then harder, teeth scraping just enough to send waves of pleasure-pain through your body. Her other hand massages your opposite breast, thumb rubbing the peak with expert precision, rolling it between her fingers.

She doesn’t stop at your chest. Her free hand travels down your stomach in possessive strokes, slipping slowly to the waistband of your shorts. She slides her fingers underneath, rubbing slow circles over your underwear—torturous pressure that has you rocking your hips, chasing more friction. “You’re already so wet, baby… just from a few strawberries?” she murmurs against your skin, sucking harder on your nipple while her fingers slip beneath the fabric, finding you soaked and ready. Two fingers slide inside easily, curling perfectly against that spot that makes you see stars, pumping slowly to build the tension.

The intimacy escalates: Jiwoo dominates you with that innate grace, flipping you onto your stomach effortlessly, kissing down your exposed back while her fingers never stop, adding a third to stretch you further—the delicious burn making you whimper. “You’re so tight for me, love… so perfect, so mine,” she groans, biting softly into your shoulder, leaving faint marks you’ll hide with a secret smile tomorrow. She flips you back over, eyes locked on yours—dark, hungry—as she kisses her way down your body: wet kisses across your stomach, tongue dipping into your navel like she’s licking imaginary juice, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your hips.

She reaches your center with deliberate slowness, torturing you. She tugs your shorts and underwear off in one smooth motion, leaving you completely exposed. Her hands firmly part your thighs, knees pressing into the mattress to keep you open. “Look at me,” she orders softly, and you obey, watching as she leans in, hot breath fanning over you before her tongue takes one long, slow lick from entrance to clit, tasting you like you’re the sweetest strawberry. The contact rips a loud gasp from you, hips jerking, but Jiwoo pins you down with strong hands on your hips. “Shh, stay still… let me taste you properly.”

Her tongue moves with expert precision—wide circles around your clit at first, soft sucking to build you up, then faster, alternating with flat strokes that cover everything. She pushes her tongue inside you, tasting deep, mimicking the earlier motion of her fingers, curling to brush sensitive walls. She adds fingers again—two pumping in rhythm with her mouth—while her tongue focuses on pulsing suction around your clit, teeth grazing just enough to add that edge of intensity. The pleasure is overwhelming: heat rolling up your spine, muscles tensing, moans spilling uncontrollably. Your hands fist in her short, damp hair, tugging to guide her, but she controls the pace, speeding up when she feels you getting close, tongue vibrating with a low hum that makes you shake.

“Don’t stop… please, Jiwoo,” you beg, voice broken, and she moans against you, the sound sending vibrations straight to your core. “I’m not stopping until you come all over my mouth, pretty… I want every drop of you.” She speeds up—fingers curling deeper, tongue lapping urgently, sucking hard—until the orgasm crashes over you like a wave: intense, devastating, body convulsing, muffled cries pressed into the pillow so the other girls in the dorm don’t hear. Jiwoo doesn’t stop right away; she licks gently through the aftershocks, drawing out the pleasure until you’re oversensitive, pleading incoherently: “Enough… please, love, it’s too much…”

She climbs back up your body slowly, kissing every trembling inch—thighs, hips, stomach, breasts, neck—until she reaches your lips in a soft kiss, sharing your taste mixed with lingering strawberry sweetness. “Shh, love… you did so good, so beautiful when you fall apart for me,” she murmurs against your mouth, wrapping you in a tight embrace, her body covering yours like a warm, protective blanket. She cleans you up with wet wipes from the nightstand drawer, helps you slip into one of her oversized t-shirts that smells like her—strawberries and her soft perfume—and cuddles you against her chest, legs tangled together.

—Haneul

Physics class was in its final stretch, but for me, the clock seemed to have stopped.

I couldn't concentrate. Not when she was there.

From the moment I arrived and saw her sitting a few rows ahead, my attention evaporated. My eyes, as if with a life of their own, searched for her again and again, even though my mind screamed for me to focus on the lesson.

I would see her absentmindedly moving her pencil between her fingers, sometimes drawing little scribbles at the edge of her notebook.

I would see her frown slightly when she didn't understand something, or bite the tip of her pen in a way that made me lose my own train of thought.

At times, she would tuck her hair behind her ear with an almost rehearsed delicacy, and her every slightest movement would leave me stupidly mesmerized.

What pretty hair she had

Had she always been so pretty?

What am I thinking?

I was trying not to stare so hard.

I was failing miserably.

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I'd catch her looking at me too.

Not for long. Just a few seconds, as if she was only looking back by chance.

But I could tell.

Would she remember who I was?

Would that brief moment we shared in the night have been enough to linger in her memories?

And every time it happened, a little jolt would shake my chest, as if my heart didn't know how to behave.

What's wrong with me, I asked myself over and over again.

It was not normal for me to feel such an absurd heat on my cheeks just because our eyes met. It was not normal this stupid impulse to want to get closer, to want to talk to her, to want… something that I could not even put into words.

It was fear.

It was curiosity.

It was something much bigger than I was ready to admit.

When the bell rang announcing the end of class, it took me a second to react. I hurried to put my things away, still feeling the weight of his presence nearby.

I grabbed my backpack, quickly checking my cell phone to see my next classroom, and started walking towards the exit, distracted, as if the air was heavier than normal.

My skin seemed to know before my mind did that she was near.

A tingle ran through my arms, like a silent current, barely a whisper of electricity under my skin.

At the same time, she was getting up too, looking at something with a slight frown, not seeing where she was going.

We didn't notice.

Until it happened.

Our backpacks collided, an awkward bump that made me take a step back. And as if that wasn't enough, our hands reached for the door handle at the same time, colliding softly, barely a brush of fingers.

The contact of our hands was like a flash: brief, warm, disarming.

For an instant, a fleeting thought crossed my mind - what if instead of pushing her away… I just grabbed her - and the vertigo of that idea made me take a step back, as if the ground had trembled.

The contact went through me like an electric shock.

Both of us frozen.

Staring into each other's eyes, so close I could see the tiny glints of light in hers.

"Oh, I'm sorry… "I murmured, more a sigh than a word, my voice barely quivering.

We both looked down at the same time, as if the world had become unbearably bright.

I felt the heat in my cheeks so obvious, so blatant, that anyone could have seen it.

"No… it's okay,” she replied, barely audible, with a tiny smile that threatened to kill me right there.

I laughed softly, more out of nervousness than anything else, not knowing what to do with my hands.

She let out an awkward giggle too, lowering her gaze for a second.

The silence became heavy, awkward and sweet at the same time.

I could hear my own heart thudding in my ears.

I decided to speak, before the awkwardness drowned us out completely.

"You're… the girl from the other night, aren't you?"

I didn't know where I got the courage.

Maybe because I needed to know if she remembered me too.

She raised her eyes at me, clearly surprised.

For a second, I feared I had ruined everything.

But then I saw her smile, just shyly.

"Yes,” she whispered.

When I heard her “yes,” a warm relief washed over me, dissolving at once the absurd fear of being forgotten.

And in that moment, the whole world seemed to become small, as if only she and I existed, trembling on the edge of something we did not yet understand.

"I'm Haneul, by the way,” I added quickly, as if I feared she would disappear if I didn't say more.

"Jiwoo,” she replied, lowering her gaze for a second before meeting my eyes again.

We stood in front of the door, too close, too aware.

A thick, sweet silence formed between us, as if we both knew we should move, but something invisible-smooth as a thread of wind-kept us still.

As we left the room, our shoulders accidentally brushed again, a small touch that left me shivering inside.

We stood there for a moment longer, standing in front of the door, in that strange silence, full of electricity and nerves.

I didn't want it to end.

I didn't want us to just say goodbye like it was nothing.

"I've never… seen you here before,” said Jiwoo, barely cocking his head, with that shy little voice that made me smile like an idiot. As if he had read my mind of what I was thinking at the time.

I cleared my throat, trying not to look too nervous.

"Ah… " I laughed softly, scratching the back of my neck. Yes, well. It's because… technically I shouldn't be in this class.

I saw her frown, curious.

"Huh?"

"I'm a little… behind,” I confessed, lowering my voice a little. I used to study at another university, but I dropped out. And now I'm starting again, from scratch.

I shrugged, trying to play it down, although inside I was dying of embarrassment.

"Oh… "She whispered, and her gaze became even sweeter, as if she wanted to tell me it wasn't a bad thing.

"So, technically, I'm two years older than almost everyone here,” I added with a laugh, to break the tension a little.

Jiwoo smiled, little, cute one.

And just when it looked like he was going to say something else - maybe ask me what I was studying or something else - a voice interrupted us.

"Jiwoo, what took you so long to come out?"

It was a tall, very pretty girl with dark hair and bright eyes.

She was looking at us with a smile, approaching us nonchalantly.

I saw Jiwoo tense up a little, but he soon relaxed.

"Ah… "Jiwoo laughed, half nervous. I told you I was going to be a little late.

The girl looked at her as if she didn't buy the excuse, but didn't insist.

"Who's your friend?" she asked immediately, looking at me curiously.

Jiwoo turned to me, blushing a little.

"Oh, uh…" He stammered, “This is Haneul."

"Nice to meet you,” I said quickly, bowing slightly in greeting.

I'm Karina,” replied the other girl, smiling big, ”It's good that Jiwoo is making friends so fast!

"Ah, yes,” I let out an awkward giggle, looking at them both. We're just getting to know each other.

I didn't know why I had wanted to clear it up so quickly. Maybe… maybe I didn't want Jiwoo to feel pressure.

Or maybe he didn't want Karina to misunderstand… something.

Whatever this was.

"I'm glad!" Karina said, nudging Jiwoo gently. It's about time you stopped being so antisocial.

Jiwoo let out a choked laugh, holding his hand to his face, as if trying to hide.

And I… I couldn't stop smiling.

I've never seen someone so cute being so embarrassed.

"Well,” Karina added, ”We're going to the cafeteria. Are you coming, Jiwoo?"

Jiwoo hesitated for a moment. He looked at me, as if he wanted to say something else.

"See you later,” he said, softly, with a shy little smile that melted me.

"Yes… see you later,” I answered, unable to hide the silly happiness that ran through me.

And as I watched them walk off together down the hallway, I stood there for a few more seconds, biting my lip to hold back a huge smile.

I saw her shyly raise a hand, as if to say goodbye, but she hesitated halfway through the gesture.

She smiled, just a shy little curve on her lips, and that smile was held in my chest like a little secret.

—Jiwoo

The whole class was torture.

I couldn't concentrate on anything the teacher said. Not when every couple of minutes I felt her gaze on me, soft and curious, like an invisible touch that made me shiver.

I tried hard to look distracted, to pretend that I was looking at my notes or my schedule, that I was just mentally going over my classes.

But it was impossible to ignore her.

Every little movement of hers called out to me.

The way she would fiddle with the sleeve of her sweater when she was bored, or how she would press her pencil against her notebook when she was trying to jot down something important.

Every time I looked up, my eyes would search for her.

Whenever I found myself looking at her too much, I would force myself to look away, pretending to be busy.

Was this normal?

Why did it feel like my heart was going to break my chest every time we were in the same space?

When the bell rang, I gathered my things quickly, still mentally going over my schedule, making sure I didn't miss any classes.

I walked toward the door, engrossed, not seeing where I was going.

Until our backpacks collided.

Until our hands brushed on the handle.

I felt her skin against mine, warm, real, quivering.

My eyes searched for hers, and when I found them, everything else disappeared.

"Oh, I'm sorry…" -she whispered, and her voice ran through me like a sigh.

"No… it's okay,” I replied, feeling foolish at the way my voice trembled.

The silence that followed was full of electricity.

Nervous laughter escaped from both of us, shy, sweet, as if we both knew something was going on, but neither of us was able to name it.

And then she spoke.

"You're… the girl from the other night, aren't you?"

My heart stumbled in my chest.

I nodded, unable to pretend anymore.

"Yes."

The nervous smile I saw form on her face gave me a small glimmer of courage.

Maybe I wasn't alone in this.

Maybe… she too was feeling the same vertigo I was.

And as we walked out the door together, our shoulders accidentally brushed once again.

Little accidents.

I felt so silly.

The whole time we stood in front of the door, I wanted to speak, to say something, anything.

But it was as if my words were hiding somewhere inaccessible.

So when I asked her why I hadn't seen her before at the university, I felt like I was throwing myself into the void.

And when she explained to me that she had left her career for a while, that she was starting over… I don't know.

She seemed brave to me.

He seemed incredibly strong to me.

I wanted to ask him more.

I wanted to know what had happened before, what he was dreaming about now, why he was back….

But then Karina appeared.

And my stomach shrank.

I knew Karina wouldn't say anything bad.

But I was embarrassed. As if the little bubble Haneul and I had created burst all at once.

I introduced her as best I could.

She was kind, sweet, as always.

But I… I just wanted to stay a little longer talking with Haneul.

When Karina invited me to go with her, I hesitated.

My heart hesitated.

But I couldn't say no to her.

So, before I left, I smiled at Haneul.

Small. Clumsy.

Hoping she would understand everything I didn't dare to say yet.

I'll see you later.

And as I walked beside Karina down the hallway, I couldn't help but look back one last time.

She was still there.

Looking at me.

the rain gently patters against the windows, filling the room with a steady, soothing murmur. you and Carmen are curled up on the couch, sharing a thick blanket that smells a tiny bit of lavender.

Carmen has her head resting on your shoulder, her fingers intertwined with yours, as if afraid that the slightest movement might separate you.

at first it was just a quiet evening: an old movie on TV, half-finished hot chocolate on the table, and a million comfortable silences floating between you.

but little by little, you felt her breathing get slower, deeper. now, when you look down, you see her relaxed little face, with that tiny smile Carmen always wears when she's dreaming something beautiful.

your heart melts.

you caress her with your thumb, just a touch, as if you wanted to tattoo that moment on your skin. outside, the world is still gray and wet, but here, under the blanket, entangled in each other, everything is warm, tender, and perfect.

without meaning to, you whisper, “i love you.”

and even though you know she's asleep, you swear Carmen's smile gets just a little bit bigger.

the rain is still singing in the background when you feel Carmen move slightly against you. she blinks slowly, as if each blink is too much effort. she snuggles closer, and her hand, which never let go of yours, squeezes your fingers gently.

“mmm… did i fall asleep?” he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep, so low you barely hear it.

“never mind,” you reply in a whisper, stroking her hair with your other hand. “you look so pretty when you sleep.”

Carmen giggles softly, that sweet little giggle that always makes you smile without realizing it. she rubs her eyes like a little girl, before looking up at you, still half asleep, but with a tenderness that takes your breath away.

“did i tell you today how much i like you?” she asks suddenly, her voice still sleepy but loaded with sincerity.

your chest fills with warmth. you squeeze his hand between yours, as if you can hold those words forever.

“i don't think so,” you reply, playfully, ”but… you could tell me again.”

Carmen smiles, more awake now. She sits up a little, still wrapped in the blanket with you, and rests her forehead against yours, closing her eyes as if just being this close gives her peace.

“i like you,” she whispers, so close you feel her words brush against your skin. “a lot. like… more than i know how to say.”

you laugh softly, fingers caressing his cheek with trembling tenderness. “it's the same for me with you.”

and then, almost shy but brave in her own way, Carmen bends her face and leaves a soft, trembling kiss, barely a touch, on your lips.

there is no hurry. no nerves. just warm love in the midst of the storm.

when she pulls away, her cheeks are pink, and you know yours are too. You both laugh, softly, as if sharing a secret that no one else in the world could ever understand.

“mmm… we should go to bed,” she murmurs, her voice low, sleepy, full of affection.

outside, the rain is still falling.

but inside, tangled under a blanket, the world is perfect.

You let out a lazy chuckle, cradling her a little tighter under the blanket. “we're fine here…” you whisper, not wanting to move, not wanting to break the perfect bubble you formed together.

Carmen laughs too, that warm little sound vibrating against your chest. “but the bed is more comfortable… and i want to hold you tight.”

the way she says it - so sweetly, in that voice that sounds like a coo - makes your heart flutter.

“all right,” you say, pretending to surrender, even though you really want nothing more in the world than to follow his voice wherever it goes. “but only if you promise not to let go.”

Carmen lifts her head to look at you, with that goofy, lovelorn smile that melts anyone's soul. “never.”

with awkward movements and soft giggles, you manage to untangle yourselves from the blanket, though you end up stumbling a bit along the way. They hold hands as if they were two little girls escaping from a nice dream, walking barefoot to the bedroom, leaving tiny footprints of happiness with every step.

already in bed, Carmen hugs you from behind, gluing her forehead to the back of your neck, her arm firmly around your waist. You can feel her calm breathing, her heartbeat beating in tune with yours.

“i love you,” she whispers before she falls asleep, so softly it almost seems like a thought.

you smile in the dark, closing your eyes, letting yourself be lulled by her warmth and the murmur of the rain.

and just before you surrender to sleep, you dare to reply, in a whisper you know Carmen will feel, even if she doesn't hear it:

—Haneul

The alarm rang softly—so softly it almost hurt.

I opened my eyes slowly. My room was quiet, like the world hadn’t realized I had to wake up yet. I stayed in bed for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling. I could stay here, I thought. Pretend it wasn’t time to go back. But I knew I’d been running for too long already.

I took a deep breath and sat up in bed. My reflection in the mirror looked back at me, tired. I looked different. Maybe it was the haircut I got a few months ago, or the dim light in my eyes. But it wasn’t just that. It was the years.

I used to be an excellent student. The type who scored perfect grades, color-coded her planner, and turned in assignments early. I was taught that hard work would take me anywhere… But no one ever mentioned burnout. No one told me that if you don’t take care of your mind, your body starts to scream for you. And I didn’t listen in time.

It started with insomnia, panic attacks, a sadness so constant I forgot what it felt like to be okay. People would ask, “What’s wrong?” and I couldn’t explain it. I cried without knowing why. Spent entire days in bed. Stopped eating well, stopped talking, stopped showing up to class.

I had to drop out. Not because I wanted to, but because I couldn’t keep going. And yeah… it was also because of him.

My closest friend. The one I shared classes, lunch breaks, and quiet moments with. A sudden illness took his life. He left—just like that. No goodbyes. I never thought losing one person could drag me down so deep. But it did. And I’m still not sure I’ve made it out completely.

Today, for the first time in a long while, I’m trying again.

I got ready slowly. A comfy sweater, jeans, some lip gloss, and my hair pulled back. I looked in the mirror before leaving and whispered to myself: “You can do this. Even if it hurts. Even if you tremble.”

The trip to campus felt like a silent film. I had my headphones on, but didn’t play any music. I wanted to hear the world—unfiltered.

When I arrived at the university, everything felt the same… yet distant. Voices, footsteps, laughter. And me, standing there like a stranger in a place I used to know.

I felt like everyone was looking at me, though probably no one was. It was strange. I wasn’t new, but I didn’t belong either. I should be close to graduating. But here I was, starting over.

I found the classroom for my new elective—it was the only one that fit my schedule. I walked in and took a seat by the window. I’ve always liked watching the world from there.

Outside, the trees swayed with the wind. And inside me… something moved too. Maybe a little hope. Maybe fear. But at least—I was here.

—Jiwoo

“What if no one ever likes me?” I whispered as I sat on the bed.

Karina, my sister, was drying her hair with her peach-colored towel and gave me that smile of hers that always seemed to hold the answers to the universe. “What if someone does?” she said, like it was the most obvious thing ever.

Karina talked about everything—no filters. From relationships to sex, boundaries, protection, feelings. She always told me it was okay to be scared, but also okay to explore if I wanted to. With respect. With clarity. No pressure.

And even though I appreciated her support, I couldn’t help feeling overwhelmed. The thought of “being liked” by someone made me nervous. The thought of not being liked scared me even more.

This break, she kept bringing up one topic: Yushi, a friend of hers. She said he’d had a crush on me for a while. That he was sweet, respectful, kind. I agreed to message him here and there, but the chats were always short and kind of awkward. He seemed nice. But I didn’t feel anything. And that made me feel guilty.

Maybe something was wrong with me. Or maybe I just wasn’t ready for anything.

Coming back to campus didn’t help. Everything felt bigger somehow.

And to top it off, I had to take an extra class I didn’t want: physics. It was the only one that worked with my schedule. Different group. Different students. I was terrified of not knowing anyone. Plus, I’d be getting out an hour later than usual. And even though it wasn’t a big deal, it felt like the world was shoving me into something I didn’t ask for.

That morning, Karina walked me to school. She was her usual cheerful self while I tried to focus on each step.

And then—I saw him. Yushi. Standing there with his backpack slung over one shoulder, his hair a little messy from the wind, wearing that mix of nervous and friendly on his face.

“Go say hi,” Karina whispered, nudging me with her elbow.

I swallowed hard. My feet carried me to him on autopilot.

“Hi,” I murmured, giving a quick smile.

“Hey, Jiwoo. How are you?” he asked right away, flashing a smile that felt like it had been practiced in the mirror.

“I’m fine… thanks,” I replied, already feeling out of place. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. Put them in my pockets. Took them out. Tucked my hair behind my ear. I hated it.

“How were your holidays?” he asked again, this time softer, like he was afraid to scare me off. Spoiler alert: I was already uncomfortable the moment Karina decided to set us up.

“Quiet. Stayed home. Nothing interesting.” I left it at that. Didn’t ask about his.

But he didn’t give up.

“I went to visit some relatives with my parents. A lot of family time. I prefer things calmer, but it was okay.”

I nodded, pretending to care a little more. It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t rude or pushy. He actually seemed genuinely interested. But… I wasn’t. Not in that way.

“Karina said you’re in the same major as me, right?” he asked, scratching the back of his neck. He looked a bit nervous. Like he knew this wasn’t flowing but was still trying anyway.

“Yeah… just switched some classes this semester.”

“Oh, no wonder we hadn’t run into each other.”

Another smile. Another question. Another awkward silence.

“I guess,” I replied, trying to sound polite.

My eyes were already searching for a way out—without being mean.

“Karina told me a lot about you,” he said suddenly, with a half-smile.

That made me frown a little.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. She said you’re quiet, but have a lot going on inside. That once you trust someone, you’re one of the kindest people they could meet.”

“She said that…?”

“Yeah. She said you’re special. That you’re worth getting to know.”

I went silent. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t like Karina saying things like that about me. It made me feel exposed. But somewhere deep in my chest… it felt nice. To be wanted. Even if just to be known.

“Thanks, I guess,” I said, looking down.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Jiwoo. Just… if you ever feel like talking, I’m around.”

I nodded. Before he could say anything else, I checked the time on my phone.

“I have to go. Got class.”

“Sure, see you later,” he replied, still smiling that smile of his.

I waved a little and turned around, walking toward the classroom. As I walked away, I felt a pinch in my chest. Not because of him. Because of me.

Because I didn’t know how to be kind without faking it. Because I didn’t want to hurt him. Because I didn’t even know why I felt this way.

Maybe it was fear. Or discomfort. Or maybe… it just wasn’t the right time.

I entered the classroom and looked for the least exposed seat—I hated sitting up front. I headed to the row by the window and took an empty spot, hoping no one would sit beside me.

And that’s when I saw her.

A girl sitting at the back of the room, near the window, her head tilted slightly as she stared outside. She looked completely uninterested in everyone else— Just like me.

And then, she looked at me.

My eyes widened. It was her. The girl from the party. The one who looked at me with those kind eyes, like she already knew me.

Her eyes widened a little too, like the surprise was mutual. But unlike me, she smiled. Calm. Warm.

Like seeing me again didn’t make her heart race the way mine did.

I… smiled back. Clumsily. Shyly. And felt the heat rise to my cheeks in a second.

Why am I blushing…?

I tucked my hair behind my ear and looked away, just as the professor walked in.

—Jiwoo

I hated parties.

And not in that dramatic “I hate anything that involves socializing” sense.

No.

They just made me nervous.

The noise, the people, the lights flashing like they were trying to hypnotize you… it was all too much. I felt like I was being watched, even if no one else was, as if simply standing in the middle of the place was an unnecessarily uncomfortable act.

But I came for a reason.

My sister.

She had been begging me for weeks to accompany her to a friend's party. That she didn't want to go alone, that it was going to be fun, that “you have to step out of your comfort zone once in a while, Jiwoo.” I agreed. For her sake. For getting out of the routine a little. For trying something different.

I didn't even last ten minutes in the room before I wanted to rush out. The lights were too bright, the music was pounding in my chest, and groups of people were talking so fast and so loud that I couldn't even follow someone else's conversation without getting confused. The house was full. People laughing, dancing, drinking. My sister had blended in perfectly. As usual. I, on the other hand, had a hard time even walking without looking out of place.

I walked away.

I walked through part of the house as if I were looking for something, although I didn't even know what. I just needed a space to breathe without someone offering me a shot or trying to get me to talk about things I wasn't interested in. And then I saw it.

A small sofa, secluded from the chaos, set apart from the chaos. With someone already seated. A dark-haired girl with a calm look. She looked just as fed up as I was. And she didn't seem drunk, or particularly interested in attracting attention.

I approached cautiously, as if each step might break something.

"May I?" I asked quietly, pointing to the empty place.

She nodded.

I sat down, adjusting the sleeves of my sweater until my hands were completely covered. As I always did when I was nervous. I looked down for a few seconds, feeling my heart pounding from being there, next to someone I didn't know, in the middle of an environment that overstimulated me in every possible way.

Silence.

Not uncomfortable at first. Rather... cautious.

We both seemed to understand that neither of us felt like talking, and that was fine.

But something inside me-a weird mix of social anxiety and the need to not seem so antisocial-pushed me to speak. It took all the courage in the world. More than one would imagine for a simple sentence.

"Don't you drink?" I blurted out, not daring to look directly at her.

Boom. There it was.

She had said it.

I felt as if my soul had left my body for a second.

What if she thought I was stupid? What if I didn't want to talk?

"I'm driving," she replied, simple.

I nodded as if nothing was wrong, but inside I was celebrating as if I had won a medal for successfully interacting with a human.

We returned to silence.

Although this time... a little softer.

"I'm not drinking either," I mumbled, my fingers playing nervously with the edge of my sleeve.

She turned her head slightly towards me, surprised by the confession, but didn't say anything right away.

"No?" he asked at last, in a soft voice, almost as if he didn't want to break the bubble of silence between us.

I shook my head slightly, not daring to look at him.

"I came for my sister."

She nodded slowly, as if she understood more than she was saying. Her lips curved just barely, like a silent answer.

She didn't ask more. She didn't throw awkward phrases. He didn't analyze me with his eyes.

He just settled better in the seat, crossing his arms over his oversized sweater, and took a deep breath.

There was something about his energy that didn't intimidate.

That didn't demand anything.

That it gave me the rare feeling that I could just stand there, not say a word, and everything would be fine.

And that, for someone like me...was very rare.

But very comforting.

A few seconds passed before I broke the silence, this time with a little laugh.

"That guy... the one with the traffic cone..." I mumbled, pointing my eyes towards the makeshift track.

She barely turned to look.

"Is she... dancing with him?" she asked, as if unsure of what she was seeing.

"Yes. And winning, I think."

That made her smile. Just a little, but enough for me to notice.

We kept talking about little things.

How loud the music was.

How stuffy the place was.

How uncomfortable some of the shoes looked.

Simple things. No weight. No need for depth.

But somehow... they made me feel comfortable.

Or, at least, less uncomfortable.

Just as my body was starting to relax, just as I stopped biting the inside of my cheek from nerves... I saw her.

My sister.

Staggering toward the bathroom. With a bad face. Until, unable to contain it, she began to vomit at the entrance of the bathroom.

I froze for a few seconds. Then I stood up almost on impulse.

"I have to go, I'm sorry," I said, turning to the girl on the couch.

"Are you all right?" she asked, in a voice that surprised me with its genuineness.

"My sister... is... the one throwing up. I'm sorry."

I left without waiting for an answer.

I followed her, helped her, and the rest of the night passed between cleaning up vomit, giving her water, and hailing a cab because clearly I couldn't drive either.

But as I settled into the back seat of the car, with my sister sleeping on my shoulder, I kept thinking about her.

The girl on the sofa.

The one with the serene look and the calm voice.

The one who made me feel that maybe, just maybe, not every party was a punishment.

I didn't know her name.

And most probably I would never see her again.

—Haneul

I didn't want to come.

It's not that I hate parties. It just... wasn't the time.

After a week filled with endless classes, accumulated homework, and hours of work at the most chaotic coffee shop downtown, all I wanted to do was get home, lie on my bed, order spicy tteokbokki with lots of cheese, and watch some mindless anime or documentary. It was Friday, but for me that didn't mean freedom: it was just another day of accumulated tiredness.

But my cousin, Yoona, had other plans.

Plans that, of course, included dragging me with her to a friend's party.

"Come on, please,“ she insisted as she followed me down the hallway of our apartment, ”You don't do anything fun lately! You just study, work and sleep. It'll do you good to get out for a while, see people.

"Seeing people is the last thing I want to do," I replied as I reached for my favorite sweater.

"Please, Haneul. Besides...“ he came over and gave me a guilty look, ”if you come, I can drink without worrying because you drive well and don't drink...

There it was.

The real reason.

It wasn't that he wanted me to socialize.

I just needed a driver.

I sighed so hard my chest hurt. But I accepted anyway. Because I'm a fool. A fool with an “ok, but only for a little while” face.

So I ended up driving to a distant house, with neon lights decorating the driveway and the bass of the music echoing even in the car windows. As soon as we entered, my cousin merged into the crowd and disappeared, leaving me alone among strangers, multicolored drinks and a dense atmosphere.

The house smelled of cheap perfume, spilled beer, and something else I preferred not to identify. A guy offered me a drink as soon as I passed the door frame; I thanked him with a grimace and walked on. I walked past bodies dancing, a couple arguing in a corner, someone recording stories for Instagram, and another trying to plug in a speaker that clearly wasn't working anymore.

It was just too much.

So I wandered away.

And I found a small couch by the main entrance. Old, but clean. Safe. Out of the way enough that I didn't have to make eye contact with anyone.

I plopped down on it and sighed a second time. I didn't have a drink in my hand, or a group to go back to, or even enough battery on my cell phone to distract me with videos.

And there I was. Sitting up. Breathing.

I just wanted two hours to pass so I could say “enough was enough” and walk away.

That's when she arrived.

I didn't hear her coming, I just saw her approaching from the corner of my eye. Dark brown hair, oversized sweater covering her hands, and a look that seemed lost but alert. She scanned the place as if seeking shelter and, for some reason, chose to sit next to me.

Not a word.

Just a shy nod, and he sat down.

He wasn't like the other people at the party. She didn't come screaming, or carry a drink, or smell of vodka. She was... quiet. Serious. The kind of person who makes you wonder if you're bothering them just by being around them.

At first I thought she couldn't stand me. That she was there for lack of options. But minutes passed and her presence didn't bother me. On the contrary. There was something strange about that shared comfort. As if we were both fed up with the noise of the world and had found a pause in the middle of the mess.

"Aren't you drinking?" she asked suddenly, her voice barely a whisper.

I shook my head without looking at her much.

"I'm driving," I said.

She nodded. And that was it.

The silence returned, thick and half uncomfortable, as if we were both aware that something needed to be said, but neither of us knew what.

"I'm not drinking either," he said after a while, as if to justify his presence there.

"And so?" I dared to ask, turning slightly towards her.

She shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't like parties. I came for my sister."

I said nothing, but nodded. Maybe that's why I liked her... although her serious expression didn't help much. It looked like she was making a constant effort not to look uncomfortable, but clearly she was.

We tried to talk some more. We exchanged short sentences, comments about how chaotic the house was, that the music was too loud, that someone was dancing with a traffic cone. The basics.

And just when I was beginning to think maybe we could talk more...

She tensed. She turned her head toward the hallway and stood up quickly.

"I have to go, I'm sorry," she muttered suddenly, urgency in her voice.

"Are you all right?"

"My sister..." he said, looking toward some invisible spot. She's... the one throwing up in there. I'm sorry.

And he left.

Just like that, as quickly as he had come.

I stood watching her back disappear into the crowd, with that same feeling as when someone interrupts a nice dream.

Later, after Yoona had made out with a few guys and drank until she couldn't hold herself together, I decided it was time to leave. I didn't ask her. I just held her hand as I walked her to the van, and she insisted that one of her friends would go to sleep with us.

The ride home was uneventful. I liked driving at night; the cool breeze on my face made me feel alive. I was listening in the background to the barely understandable conversations between Yoona and her friend, until one sentence caught my attention.

"I swear that the best people in your life come in the strangest ways…" said Hyo, slurring her words a bit, laughing with Yoona at something that didn't even make sense anymore.

"Like the cab driver who saved you from throwing up on yourself, right?" Yoona giggled, half-hugging her friend as they tried to find the key to the house.

I looked at them from the rearview mirror, leaning my elbow on the window, ready to tell them to shut up when they arrived so as not to wake up the neighbors or their parents. But that sentence, said like that, without a filter and in between drunken laughter… it stuck in my head.

The best people arrive in the strangest ways.

And without being able to help it, I thought of the girl at the party.

The one who sat next to me without saying much.

The one with the calm gaze and the awkward silences.

The one who asked me if I didn't drink.

What was her name?

Oh, right.

I didn't even know that.